It is nearly 1 am and I am leaving for UK today. The last few weeks have gone by with incredible speed and I am still putting things into my suitcase and taking them out again. The problem is that over the next few months I will need suitable gear to wear at the Edinburgh International Arts Festival and the associated Book Festival. I will need suitable clothes for the Clan gathering and for just hanging out with friends and lastly I need a pack and other equipment for walking the pilgrim way across northern Spain known as the Camino. In other words I need enough for three different holidays crammed into one suitcase and a back pack. It has been quite an exercise but now it is time to call it a day. I will be back in a few hours
I have arrived in Glasgow after a long trip from my front door to Barbara's place. The flight itself was uneventful. I am sure that all the other godwits know about the long journey to the other side of the world. I am hoping to find the summer but so far there has been rain and clouds. Fortunately it has not been cold.
Barbara met me at the airport and we drove out to Loch Fyne where the sunlight on the hills was truly amazing. The land is very steep and quite unlike the rolling hills of the Waikato. There was no stock. I think that the land is not very productive so even the hardiest of sheep would have difficulties.
We had to drive over Rest and Be Thankful hill before dropping down to the Loch past mist clad mountains and many rhododendron trees in full bloom. We drove over the quaint hump backed stone bridge near the castle at Inverary (the seat of the Campbells) where we enjoyed afternoon tea.
We are planning to do a lot more exploring over the next few months. I am off to Bristol tomorrow and upon my return we will go to Spain and France. We sat at Barbara's dinner table last night as the sun poured in and we looked at maps and synchronised our diaries. Suddenly Barbara drew my attention to the time. It was 9.30 pm and the sun was still up. It was up again very early today and I am enjoying the longer hours of daylight.
There will be some photos with my next diary entry. I have not yet worked out how to add them to my diary. Watch this space
I have been contacting friends in order to arrange time to see them all. On Thursday I met up with Maureen Sier at the Borders Bookshop coffee bar. We had a good chat until Barbara arrived then the three of us made arrangements about getting together again soon. Maureen and I are planning to attend part of the Baha'i Summer School at Comrie in July. I hope to meet other Baha'i friends there as although I am planning to be away from home for 4 months there will not be enough time to visit everyone.
On Friday morning I flew to Bristol where I was met by Sally Downs. She drove me to her home in Marshfield as I will be staying with Tony and Sally for the next 10 days. It does not seem that long ago that Tony and I were students at Auckland University. Since his graduation he has worked in many different places but has been based in Marshfield for about 15 years and I have visited them a number of times.
Most of the times that I have visited, I have not seen Ian and Michael. This time however Ian is living back at home after completing a degree in philosophy at Cardiff University. We had a long chat about his plans for the future. He will be flying out to New Zealand in a few months time for a working holiday and some directional research. He has gone to Milan this weekend with some of his mates and is expected home tomorrow night in time to start a holiday job on Monday
This morning Tony and I went to the Farmers Market to gather up the raw materials for Sunday lunch. I always enjoy a market as you can see the best produce displayed and you can talk to the growers. There were stalls with many different seasonal vegetables and fruits. A whole table of different coloured heritage tomatoes caught my eye. I had seen the green striped tomoatoes in Thames but I had not seen the orange and red striped variety. There were displays of fresh meat, salami and game as well as a table of trout whole and filleted and in a pate. There were piles of fresh baked bread and buns as well as locally produced cheeses, pickles and jams. The wealth of the earth was piled up before my admiring eyes.
Later in the day we went to visit the Courts Garden managed by the National Trust. Tony and Sally are members of the National trust and I had my New Zealand Historic Places Trust membership card so we all entered free. The Courts Garden covers seven acres. Half of this is in formal garden enclosed by yew hedges and the rest is arboretum. The house was built for a wool merchant and the garden contains many features typical of the Victorian garden ---- high hedges divide the garden into separate areas of dense planting furnished with topiary and statues. Originally there was a cloth mill associated with the house and the garden itself was laid out in 1901 after the mill was demolished. The layout of the garden has essentially remained unchanged since the 1930s so it is an important example of this period on English garden history.
The house is tenanted now and there is a privately run tearoom at the rear of the building. The grounds are open to the public and are filled with delightful features such as the profusion of roses in different colours, the ornamental pools and the slow moving stream. Vegetables grew in neat rows in a walled garden. Areas of lawn edged with flowers and shrubs surrounded the house. I took lots of photos but I am still unsure how to get them on to the blog.
The garden is located at the village of Holt in Wiltshire. Tony drove us through country lanes and byways in order to reach it. Many of these roads are very narrow and vehicles have to pull off the sealed carriageway to allow others to pass. The houses are built right at the edge of the road and this will often obscure visibility. Outside the villages there are trees and hedgerows growing right next to the road creating dark tunnels of foliage similar to the scene in Lord of the Rings when Frodo, Merry and Pippin met the Nazgul on the road.
Sally and I have spent a number of hours preparing food for the lunch party tomorrow. After dinner we went for a stroll around the village and through the neighbouring fields. It was 9pm and the sun was low in the sky. The day that I arrived in Glasgow Barbara and I sat in warm sunshine in her living room at about 9 pm. It seemed so much brighter then but I suppose this was due to the different lattitude.
Tonight we watched a fiery sunset and listened to the skylarks . We met a man with binoculars who was watching the birds settling down for the night. He mentioned that he had seen a dottrel. I was surprised about this as Marshfield is inland although not far from the sea. The dottrel is a wading bird and I wondered what it would find to eat in Marshfield. I told him that I have seen dottrels and godwits at Miranda near Thames and the conversation turned to the migratory habits of birds. High in the sky a jet vapour trail silently tracked across a coloured sky. Now the village is dark and silent for a few hours before the dawn of the longest day
Today was a great occasion for those who lunch. Sally and I spent a lot of time preparing a lunch for friends including Harold and Helen Jones, Carolyn and Philip Evans and Barbara Wortley. Also in attendance was Sally's friend, Diana Stern.
We began by going for a walk around Marshfield. I was amazed again by the way that the English are permitted to walk through farmland in order to enjoy the countryside. In New Zealand people would be restricted by fences and gates but here the network of public footpaths is protected by law. Walkers use these ancient paths to keep them open and many of them have been used since medieval times. We skirted around fields of wheat and barley decorated with red poppies, scrambled over styles and brushed past hedgerows. There were views of distant farms and villages clinging to hillsides. There were many different kinds of trees and all day the skylarks were rejoicing
The land is much gentler in shape than the steep hillsides near Loch Fyne. The paths had been much used by horses as well as by people. The land was in pasture of varying quality but it was green and pleasant to see.
We lunched at Tony and Sally's home and we were still sitting at the table at 5 pm. We enjoyed a whole fillet of Scottish salmon as well as salads and baked red peppers. For dessert there was goosberry shortcake and rhubarb icecream all handmade and all exquisitely delicious. What a privilege to enjoy good company and good food.
Helen and Harold Jones picked me up this morning and we went on a ramble into the Cotswolds. We walked along the scarp and looked at the view towards Gloucester and Cheltenham. Unfortunately it was a cloudy day so the colours were muted and the sky was dull. We could see the sugar loaf in Wales and the Morvern Hills. We picniced on the hill and tried to pick out landmarks but the day was too dull.
The guide book mentioned various kinds of wildflowers and insects but we did not see them. Nor did I see a buzzard but the skylarks were still active
Tony took the day off work so we could travel into the countryside. We were planning to take a picnic but the sky was dull and it tried to rain as we had breakfast. The weather map showed dark clouds in the area that we wanted to visit. The unhelpful comments by the weatherman mentioned rain but some areas would remain dry. Fortunately we decided to ignore all that. We did not pack a picnic but took along our raincoats instead.
We set out and by the time we reached Raglan Castle the sun was shining and we were able to wander about admiring the architecture and the scenery. Raglan was one of the last medieval castles built in England and Wales and it appears to have started out as a fortified manor house. It is possible that it was originally a motte-and -bailey construction as the detached main tower or keep may be on the site of a large flat topped mound with the curving line of the surrounding buildings occupying the site of the bailey or courtyard. It was one of a series of fortifications in the old Welsh border area of Gwent constructed after the Norman Conquest.
The house was held by the Bloet family until the late 14th century when Elizabeth Bloet married William ap Thomas who built the castle as it looks today. There is a moat around the tower. The great hall had a beautiful bay window that looked into the courtyard. The place was known to be magnificent and had a large garden
King Charles I was entertained at Raglan several times but eventually the castle was beseiged then sacked by the Parliamentary forces in 1646. The place fell into ruin but efforts are now being made to restore is and I could see that it was once very splendid
From there we visited the ruined Priory at Llanthony where amidst the black hills the impressive size of the buildings made a great impression. We sat in warm sunshine drinking coffee and thinking about the sort of society where the farmers supported such a large establishment by payment of tithes
We followed many narrow country roads from Hay on Wye where we browsed in the secondhand bookshops and enjoyed a ploughman's lunch at the local pub. We visited St Margaret's church in Herefordshire. We almost missed it as the signposts were unclear and the church itself was hidden behind a thick hedge. There was no sound except the birdsong as we opened the heavy old door. Across the whole width of the little chancel was a rood screen and loft all delicately carved and faded to pale grey with time. It was a wonderful treasure that had somehow escaped the vandalism of the Puritans.
It has a beautiful stained glass window of St Margaret as a shepherdess the work of AJ Davis whose windows can also be found in churches around the world including New Zealand. I will have to look out for those.
We crisscrossed the country lanes again to visit the parish church of St Mary and St David at Kilpeck, Herefordshire. It was built about 1134 and is justifiably renowned for its carvings that are mostly well preserved. Some of the 85 corbels have been removed (I assume that they must have offended someone) and the sculptures come from any parts of Europe and Eastern Mediterranean areas. I took many photos but the camera eventually needed to be recharged. Eventually I will post the photos or some of them once I learn how to do so.
This morning it has been raining quite hard. All the newly planted flowers in Sally's garden are standing up and smiling. When I went to collect todays Guardian there was a lot of water flowing in the gutters. Perhaps we will not go for a walk this afternoon
I called in at the local hardware store to get some cat food. The place is full of dark stained shelves and there is a wall of square drawers like an old time pharmacy. Goods for sale included candles in glass holders, garden implements and pest remedies as well as note cards and coloured enamel jugs hanging from high rails. I saw a photo of the former owner surrounded by general store goods and photos of the Royal family (George and Mary). The sales assistant told me that when the former owner passed away there were no kin who wanted to take on what had been a family business for several generations. Developpers came sniffing around wanting to rip out all the old shop fittings but the ?National Trust? has put a designation on the shop and nothing can now be changed without permission.
Yesterday Sally and I set off under heavy grey skies to meet her friend, Rene, at Minster Lovell. We admired the church and the ruined manor house as well as a large round dovecote. By this time the clouds had parted and there was warm sunshine. We stood by the little river and watched six round fluff balls of ducklings busily following behind their mother. It was an idyllic scene.
We lunched at Rene's home at Whitney and admired her lovely garden with so many different varieties of clematis. I did not know that there were so many colours available. We took coffee in the garden and compared our family histories.
On the way back to Marshfield Sally stopped in Burford. We had to look around for the parish church at the end of a lane at the bottom of High Street. It was a very special visit although we had only the briefest of time to enjoy its maze of low arches, surprising visitas, chapels and shrines. Burford was a town of wealthy medieval wool merchants whose tombs in the churchyard are like stone chests topped with wool bales and carved with cherubs and skulls.
The church has just grown like Topsy with additions and renovations showing various levels of sensitivity. There is a memorial to Edmund Harman (died 1569), barber and courtier to Henry VIII. An interesting primitive carved panel dating from about 160 AD may depict the Celtic Fertility goddess, Epona, or it might be the flight into Egypt or even the entry of Christ into Jerusalem
I enjoyed the Tanfield monument erected by the wife of a prominent judge in 1628. The couple were unpopular in Burford and after the death of the judge the church refused the widow permission for a memorial. Undaunted she arrived with her workmen and installed an elaborate memorial featuring the Tanfield coat of arms and effigies of the couple lying in prayer. For good measure Lady Tanfield added her own verse: So shall I be/ With him I loved/ And he with me/ And both us blessed./ Love made me poet/ and this I writt./ My hate did doe it/ And not my witt. The church let them be.
I did not have time to look at other things in the church apart from a shrine to St Dorothy the patron of orchards and small gardens
Last night we went out to hear a talk at St Michael's Church in Bath. At this time of the year in the run up to the Edinburgh Book festival there are talks about new publications happening in various centres. Last night we heard from Anthony Beevor on the subject of his new book about D Day. He read from a prepared script but I do not know if this was a passage from the book or something composed especially for the occasion. He took questions from the large audience and spoke very fluently about military history and many of the human stories that abound in the archives of different countries. it was very interesting and I will certainly read the book when time permits. One of the things that has stuck in my mind is the statistics of civilian casualties. I gather that more French civilians were killed (by the Allies) in the battle for Normandy than were English killed by the Luftwaffe during the Battle of Britain.
After the talk Sally and Tony and I accompanied Diana to her home at Upper Wraxall for supper. When we left there the sky still had some light. We searched unsuccessfully for the family of hedgehogs that Diana saw earlier in the week. As we drove back to Marshfield the sky was split by lightning so I should not be surprised by the rain today.
On Friday Sally and I went to visit her friend Jill on a neighbouring farm. We admired the garden and the idea of having raised beds on my own property has taken root. I have always wanted to grow my own herbs and lettuces but the soil in Thames is crumbly clay and generally a waste of time. Over the years I have spent a lot for little reward but now that I have some time I can see the usefulness of raised beds so that I do not have to bend down so much. The existing terraces can remain as they are and a raised area for vegetables could go along the western boundary. This is something to think about.
Jill and Tim have passed on the main farm to their son but they still live on the place. We walked around together admiring the pasture and the stock. The farm boasts an organic icecream business so I am looking forward to trying the wares. We saw a newly excavated lake that will eventually host wild life and a 50 acre block of untouched forest. We saw a badger hole but there did not appear to be anyone at home.
That evening we drove in to the Royal Theatre in Bath to see a programme of two one act plays. I was not familiar with either of them. It was a very stimulating and enjoyable night out. The first one was a short play by Anton Chekhov called "Swansong" and according to the programme notes it took him a little over an hour to write it. There are two characters an aging actor who reminisces about his career in a deserted provincial theatre at night and a Prompter who helps the actor to salvage some of his dignity. These parts were played by Peter Bowles and James Laurenson respectively and they were marvellous and the play was very gripping.
The second play was "The Browning Version" by Terrence Rattigan set in a famous public school during a summer in the late 1940s. The play resonated with a world order that was anarchic, chaotic and moribund. Bowles played an aging teacher who had failed to reach his potential or to inspire his students. Laurenson was the headmaster. The older teacher had decided to move to another position along with his deeply disaffected and manipulative wife. The headmaster wanted to be rid of them quickly and it transpired that the wife was having an affair with another teacher. there were many twists and turns showing that all of the characters were deeply flawed but it was so well done. I really enjoyed it and I have been thinking about the nature of truth and duty ever since.
It was still light when the play ended. There was a crescent moon rising and the clouds were tinged pink. The shepherds would have been delighted and so were we. The days have been very warm and despite early clouds there have been blue skies and only one day of rain.
On Saturday after a visit to the farmers market and the supermart Sally and I went to the church fete. After seeing mounds of tomatoes and other fresh vegetables at the market and admiring the stalls of organic meat and fish as well as locally produced cheeses I was in the right mood for the fete.
We walked through the village to the Old Vicarage where the local people gathered for this uniquely English Country occasion. The Old Vicarage is a huge house that was sold by the church some years ago as it no longer suited the needs of the parish. The new owners have generously allowed the fete to happen on their lawn every year. The stone house and outbuildings are almost surrounded by a drystone wall. The wall shelters a wonderful garden on two large terraces. There were roses and daisies and geraniums as well as lots of other things that I did not recognise. Just inside the gate were the plant stalls and on the front lawn were tables of books and home made cakes and other produce. Best of all there were tables set up on the lawn behind the house under the trees. The local silver band played in a small marquee. The children tried their skills at the coconut shies and a small army of ladies served tea and cake to hordes of thirsty villagers
To the strains of "The Floral Dance" and the theme from "Hogan's Heroes" Sally and I served generous portions of home made fruit loaf and lemon drizzle cake, chocolate cake and cup cakes, cherry shortbread and various slices. Everyone seemed to have a great time and I do not know how much money was raised. When Tony arrived later we all had a cup of tea on the lawn then checked out the second hand book stall. I was extremely restrained taking only three paperbacks at 50p each.
The grounds of the Old Vicarage were ideal for the fete and it was just wonderful to walk about in the sunshine meeting the local people and chatting. Surely this is better than rushing around in the city.
We went from the fete to a BBQ in Bristol at the home of one of Tony's workmates. We were promised a BBQ summer and it was a truly splendid occasion. After the usual salads and meat we sat outside chatting and watching the sunset. As the light faded a brazier was lit in the back garden and we were kept warm by the fire and entertained by the stories told by the hosts. They were an Iranian couple. She was Shiva from Tehran and he was Sayyid from Qazvin. We drank Persian tea and enjoyed Persian sweets. It was a really lovely evening.
It must have been 10.30 when we headed back to Marshfield. Tony drove us along the scenic route under the famous Brunel bridge and past St Mary's church. He explained about the river control work that has been done over the years. there is so much more to see and do. I cannot fit it all into this visit.
Thank you to all the readers of this blog of random thoughts from me for your encouraging comments. I think all of you would love being in England too
Tony and I went walking to see Wansdyke. I had never heard of this spectacular earth work before and I was amazed by its size and length. Wansdyke (Woden's Dyke) is an early medieval linear defensive installation. It stretches from Maes knoll in Somerset to the banks of the Severn in three parts of varying lengths with gaps in between. It is not clear when it was built but it would have taken years to create the deep ditch with the spoil banked up to form a substantial rampart. Archaelogical evidence suggests that work may have begun in the 4th or 5th century that is after the departure of the Romans and before the arrival of the Saxons. It may have been a boundary between Celtic Kingdoms or it could have been a line of defence against invaders.
Armed with a picnic lunch and a thermos of coffee we parked near Silberry Hill and walked up a steady rise to the top of a ridge near West Kennert. We saw hang gliders wheeling and swinging. We stopped to admire crop circles and we looked for the flora and fauna mentioned in connection with the Pewsey Nature reserve. We passed stock grazing quietly and not taking any notice of us until we came to the ditch itself.
In this area (Wiltshire) the Wansdyke is well preserved except where the badgers and rabbits are attacking the walls. the ditch would have been at least 20 ft deep and the spoil piled on to the bank would have made a significant barrier. Although it is not as well known as Hadrians Wall it represents at least as much work with primitive tools and wicker baskets. We followed a path alongside the ditch for some distance then dropped down from the ridge through fields of ripening wheat and barley
We passed the long barrow at West Kennert. That monument is a lot older than the Wansdyke. Once again I was impressed with the amount of work that must have been required to make the barrow. I wondered what sort of social organisation would have been necessary to muster the labour required.
Tony measured the distance of our walk on the map and concluded that we had travelled about 13 km. i thought it would have been more than that. I was really tired by the time we arrived home and the next day my legs and shoulders were stiff. During the walk I used two Leki sticks and found them very helpful in maintaining balance. As a training run for Camino this walk made it clear that I need to do a lot more preparation
Yesterday Barbara Wortley and I visited the Cathedral and the Bishop's Palace in Wells. The art work was inspiring and the history was interesting. I noticed the panels of bobbin lace made by a parishoner depicting 4 different saints bearing traditional tokens associated with their lives and work. The intricacy of the lace work was a marvel and when I read that the parishoner has only 6 formal lessons in this art form I was awe struck. The lace work had been framed and hung behind the quire so Iwas very gld to have noticed it.
I also particularly noticed a series of icons in traditional style placed all in a row but marking the stations of the cross. This form of artwork is unusal in an English church but I found it interesting and touching. There were a number of other icons in different parts of the cathedral. One of these was a large picture of St Andrew who was the first one to leave his nets and follow Christ. Tthe cathedral is dedicated to St Andrew and the arms of the bishop feature the familiar while diagonal cross on a blue ground. There was another set of icons in a smaller chapel (at the Bishop's Palace) showing the creation story. These icons were shaped like petals and I was very taken with them.
There were stained glass windows and beautiful carvings. The stalls in the quire were all made of a dark coloured timber. It may have been stained but could just have the patina of age. Other newer furniture pieces arranged next to the altars in the cathedral and in the bishop's palace were made of a lighter coloured timber and assembled without the use of nails. There was a list of the names and dates of the various bishops of Bath and Wells and the effigies of a number of them arranged in one of the cathedral aisles. Also on display was a collection of modern embroidered altar cloths. These were beautiful but for me the highlight of the handwork were the many kneelers and seat cushions depicting wild flowers and coats of arms as well as geometrical designs.
The Bishops Palace is a medieval building that has been extended and renovated a number of times over the years. The adjacent Great Hall is now a ruin but we were able to pass under the archways and admire the new gardens fragrant with roses and shining with stainless steel sculptures of birds in flight and plants. There was a marvellous carving of Adam and Eve being expelled from the Garden of Eden by a fierce looking angel adorned with a snake. The carving was made from a single yew tree that grew in the yard of the parish church at Tiverton. The tree was felled in 1946 and the notice next to the carving mentioned the many hours of work in producing this work of art.
We walked on the ramparts next to the moat and I enjoyed seeing a family of swans gliding across the water. There were 4 busy cygnets learning to forage amongst the weeds in the moat. From the ramparts we could see Glastonbury Tor. The upper gallery in the palace contained portraits of a number of the bishops including the incumbent. Many of the pictures were presented with short biographical notes and I was interested to see how often the bishop played a political role even to modern times. For instance there were 4 pictures of the coronations of British monarchs since 1900 and the Bishop of Bath and Wells stood on the left side of the enthroned monarch as a supporter.
The picture of the current Bishop showed him in a purple cassock seated in the small chapel in the palace with the petal icons in the backgound and also showing the altar table and a crystal bowl that I saw during my visit. The picture did not show the marvellous light effects from the stained glass that I attempted to capture in a photo. I still have to find out how to add pictures to this blog
We looked a the alms houses in a little street adjacent to the Music School. The street was laid out and the first house built there in 1363. A man that we met by chance assured us that it was the oldest continuously inhabited street in Europe. The houses all had very tall chimneys so that the smoke of coal fires would blow away over the roof tops. each house had a small garden and the street itself was paved with cut stones (sets not cobbles said our guide).
There was so much to see that we spent the whole day at the cathedral and its environs. We set out later than expected to return to Marshfield and got mixed up in queues of traffic. Barbara joined us for my last supper in Marshfield. This afternoon I return to Glasgow
There was hardly any rain to speak of. I spent my time in Barcelona as a tourist while Barbara attended a conference. I have always associated Barcelona with the work of Antoni Gaudi 1852 – 1926 so I was keen to see some of the buildings designed by him. Gaudi is the foremost exponent of Modernisme which has nothing to do with what is referred to in English as Modernist Art. That term has been applied indiscriminately to any painting or sculpture created after 1900. Modernisme on the other hand refers to the Catalan version of Art Nouveau and strictly covers only the window between 1890 and 1910. Subjects usually include flowers birds and insects as well as sensuous women but because of its association with a Catalan Renaissance will also include nationalistic symbols such as the dragon or bat.
I took the audio tour of the Batllo House which was given a face lift by Gaudi (1905 to 1909) when the owner thought that the original building was boring. The result is anything but dull. The public rooms have leadlighted windows with swirling bubbles of pink and blue. The window frames look like human bones and the edge of the roof is decorated with colourful mosaics. A tiled light well brought natural light to all floors of the house. The tiling itself has colours graduating from light blue at the ground floor level to dark blue near the roof. The whole effect is organic and lively.
Another tour of an apartment building known as La Pedrera (built 1906 to 1910) revealed more information about the Gaudi methods. The building has no straight lines and simply curves around a corner in the street. Each apartment has a balcony dripping with twisted metal giving an effect of a jungle of plants. There are displays about world events during the time that Gaudi was working and an explanation of the arches that he created to support themselves without the need for buttressing. All done without the aid of computers!!! The building is crowned with a series of air vents and chimneys that look like daleks. Despite the futuristic design the building is very functional and I could see myself living there quite comfortably
Gaudi’s principal patron was Count Euseio Guell, a prominent man of that time who became wealthy through textiles. He commissioned Gaudi to design his home but I did not get time to visit. Another commission was to design a village for the workers at the Guell factory and although this project was never completed there is a large park open to the public and well used by the citizens of Barcelona. Originally it was planned to construct houses, shops and a school but the park now includes a garden area with a view point from which to admire the surrounding countryside. There are winding paths and a large terrace lined with mosaic decorated bench seating. When I was there a band was playing creating a relaxed and friendly atmosphere.
Underneath the terrace is a hall of columns originally intended to house a market but there was no sign of such activity when I was there. I followed the path down to the main gate past a large mosaic lizard that has become a symbol of Barcelona. There was a fountain and a gatehouse all characterized by mosaics and curved lines. I found myself remembering my visit to the Hundertwasser Village in Vienna. Hundertwasser was also an enemy of straight lines.
One day I took a train to Tarragona about an hour down the coast from Barcelona. The purpose of the visit was to enjoy the Roman ruins there. Some years ago a citizens referendum decided to develop industry ahead of tourism but fortunately there has been a real effort to preserve the history of the area. The town was established as a military base from which to launch the conquest of Spain but it quickly grew in political social and cultural importance. Under Augustus it became a resort and the capital of the Eastern empire and the second most important city under Roman rule (after Rome). Pontius Pilate was born there. As such an important centre it needed an amphitheatre, circus and a temple. The Romans always chose attractive places to build their cities and Tarragona was no exception. The town is built at the top of a cliff and there are beautiful beaches nearby. The amphitheatre was built close to the sea and was under reconstruction at the time of my visit so I could not explore there. I was able to go into the circus area where the area beneath the public seating is honeycombed with tunnels and corridors for the gladiators and fierce beasts.
Contrary to popular mythology it was rare for Christians to be martyred in the circus. There is a record of the burning of a bishop and two deacons but I did not hear of others. There is an historic cathedral built on the site of the Roman temple containing many chapels in honour of various saints including the martyred bishop. After the fall of Rome, Tarragona became an important centre for Christianity and St Paul preached there. I spent a number of hours in the cathedral reading about the history and admiring the 15th century altar carved by Pere Joan (another Catalan artist). The cathedral itself is large and there is a peaceful cloister containing a garden and edged with graceful arches.
I ran out of time to see everything but I would definitely return there for the history and the beaches. The beach closest to the town is known as Miracle Beach because one Christmas Eve some fishermen were lost at sea. They prayed for assistance then looked up to see the great rose window of the cathedral lit up for midnight mass. They made it to shore safely hence the miracle.
There were so many other adventures in Barcelona. I visited the Picasso museum to learn about the great man. Unfortunately the collection did not include many of his better known work but I was pleased with what I did find. I attended a talk given by an American professor about the life and work of a Dutch artist called Kes van Dongen who was a contemporary of Picasso. I also took a tour of the opera house that has been rebuilt after a disastrous fire in 1994. There is a hall of mirrors decorated in gold and duck egg green and an imposing staircase. The interior features many portraits of composers conductors and artists. Opera was privately sponsored for many years so there are a number of areas reserved for the use of the members of a sponsors club. We were shown around these truly magnificent facilities and I thought it would be wonderful to attend a performance there especially as this house feels that it has a special relationship with Wagner
After Barbara finished her responsibilities at the conference we went to see the Sagrada Familia. Work on this enormous temple was begun in 1882 and it is still under construction with an estimated completion date of 2030. Gaudi devoted the last part of his life to the work on this magnificent edifice. It is planned to have 12 towers and 8 have been completed. We were able to ride a lift to the top of one tower and walk down a narrow spiral staircase. Not for the fainthearted. We wandered through the immensely high nave and saw one of the completed rose windows. Others are in place but were obscured by scaffolding. The nave is held up by immense columns which form branches like trees. The intention is that natural light will enter the building through skylights then it will be filtered through the “Trees” giving a dappled effect as in a forest. I was delighted with that idea.
The exterior of the building is decorated with a number of facades. The nativity façade depicting the scene of the birth of Christ was completed by Gaudi but after his death other architects have been involved. Another façade depicts the passion of Christ and this was completed by another Catalan artist, Josep Subirachs, using a different style of figures. Gaudi’s original plans and models were destroyed by fire during the Civil War but an effort was made to reconstruct his ideas in 1940 and the work that is going on at present is based on this reconstruction. It is said that the inspiration for the towers came from the tall slender cypress trees and other inspiration was provided by Montserrat. Although there is lot of work still to be completed the temple is awe inspiring and I hope that I will have the chance to visit again
The following day Barbara picked up the rental car and we loaded ourselves and Barbara’s friends, Sarah Robinson and Ron Kerr, into it and headed for Montserrat. The name means ‘serrated mountain” in English and it certainly looked like a jagged edge as we approached across the plain. We parked the car at the foot of the mountain and rode to the top along the narrow gauge railway known at the Cremallera. The train deposited us and lots of others conveniently close to the Basilica. We did not hear the world famous boys’ choir as the singers were on holiday but we did see the small black statue of the Virgin holding the infant Jesus. It is said that the statue was carved in Jerusalem and brought to Catalonia by St Peter. It was hidden during the Muslim invasion of Spain but found centuries later by some shepherd boys. Now known as La Moreneta the statue stands behind the high altar.
As we left the basilica we came upon a group of brightly costumed folk dancers performing in the square. Both men and women were using castanets and dancing energetically to the sound of guitars and drums. The dances or melodies were well known and many in the audience were clapping to the rhythm of the music.
We carried on along the mountain road to the French border. The road was winding and there were tunnels. The clouds were low and there was light rain. We spent the night at Ax les Thermes.
Ax les Thermes as the name suggests is a small mountain town where people go to take the waters. We stayed in a little hotel across the stream from the baths. Barbara and I shared a good room with one balcony facing upstream and another looking down to the town. We could see the steam rising from a hot pool across the stream. We had an excellent bathroom and there were cornflowers hand stenciled on to the walls.
The four of us wandered down to the town admiring the window boxes and the fountain in the square. We had dinner in a small place with others who looked like patients at the clinic. We finished with a dessert serving of nut cake which really excited the taste buds. It had walnuts and hazelnuts as well as chestnut. I can feel some cooking experiments coming along.
Taking the waters is a serious business. I gathered that you could not just turn up at the baths casually as is the case at a spa. You need a referral and you are then expected to stay for three weeks having baths and other treatments every day. After dinner we wandered out of the town square towards our hotel and came upon a large shallow foot bath so we rolled up our trousers and sat on the edge with our feet in the warm water. Just lovely.
The next morning we carried on towards Sarah and Ron’s place at La Coquille. We stopped for a snack at Cahors and bought a big bag of cherries in the market. I had never seen so many cherries in one place. They are hideously expensive in Thames but in Cahors the sales assistant was happy for us to try each variety then purchase according to our preferences. The varieties were Coeur de Pigeon, Van and Lolita. Since we all liked Lolita best there was no difficulty in making a choice.
Mostly we travelled on secondary roads to avoid heavy traffic but when we approached Toulouse we got on to the ring road motorway and got lost when we missed the right turning. Eventually we found the right route and carried on to reach La Coquille so named because it is on one of the pilgrim routes to Santiago. We went looking but could not find the pilgrim hostel. Ron and Sarah have a house close to the railway station and the town is small enough to walk around. I admired the abundance of hydrangeas not only in the usual pastel pinks and blues but also growing luxuriantly in darker shades of magenta and blue. I would like my garden to be filled with them also but Ron & Sarah thought that there was something special about the weather this year that has encouraged them to look so lovely.
We visited the Chateau de Hautefort which has been sensitively rebuilt and surrounded by formal gardens in the French style. The chateau has two wings linked by an older section and a round tower at each end. It is more like the castles of the Loire Valley than what would be expected in Aquitaine. The castle was described in a document dated 987 as big and unassailable and it is certainly an impressive sight. We spent several hours looking around inside and admiring the gardens and the views over the surrounding countryside outside. Ron mentioned that the castle was besieged by Richard Coeur de Lion and that the same Richard was killed in another siege at a nearby castle. I wondered how the King of England was involved but Ron pointed out that Richard would have been defending his mother’s interests in the area. Even though he was King of England, Richard spoke little English (and probably not much French either but would have spoken the local language of Aquitaine) and spent almost no time there. I was interested to note that a section of the highway that we travelled was called Route de Richard Coeur de Lion. The castle is located in troubadour country and is associated with Bertran de Born whose quick temper and many adventures are an interesting history in themselves.
After the visit to Hautefort we enjoyed a splendid lunch at a tiny restaurant below the castle wall. The restaurant was called Foie Gras Erillac so we had to try some foie gras and it was delicious. I had duck for a main course. We were well fed and well served and we emerged feeling as though it was time for siesta
We went shopping at the market at Perigueux an ancient town settled by four different tribes before the Roman occupation. This town was the capital of the region. We did not get much time to look around the town as the market was so good. The market was arranged around a square outside the cathedral. The church architecture was obviously inspired by the experiences of the crusaders as it had domes and Eastern shaped arches. We tasted various products and bought fruit and tinned foie gras. I found a scallop shell signpost indicating the direction for the pilgrims to Santiago. All the shops were open and there were many delicacies to try and souvenirs to avoid. I enjoyed listening to a street musician. I found a postcard with a recipe for nut cake so the cooking experiments are coming closer.
Another wonderful experience was a visit to the prehistoric caves at Villars. These caves were discovered by chance by the members of a local caving club in 1953. They set about exploring the cave lined with limestone formations and evidence of occupation by bears. In 1958 a member of the same club discovered cave paintings depicting horses and bison dating from 17,000 BC. After a detailed examination of the paintings a rare human figure was found. It looked like a stick figure but it was a very important discovery. We were lucky to be able to enter the cave as others have been closed to protect the paintings. I was delighted to see all this prehistory with my own eyes.
Barbara and I headed back to Spain past fields of sunflowers in full bloom. The weather was warm and sunny and I would definitely return to that area. We drove to Carcassonne to see the ancient town built by the Cathars. Our first view of it from the motorway was so spectacular that I wanted to take a photo but there was nowhere suitable to stop and the view changed as the road dropped down from the hill into the modern city. We found a parking spot and walked into the walled town. Actually there was a double wall and a moat with a drawbridge so the defences were quite sophisticated.
The Cathars were treated as heretics by the Church and a crusade to eliminate them was launched in 1209 and led by Simon de Montfort (Albigensian Crusade). There is reason to suppose that the Cathars were not Christians at all as their beliefs appear to have come from Persia via the Balkans. At the time of the crusade there were many people adhering to Cathar beliefs living in the south of France where they enjoyed the protection of some of the noblemen. Pope Innocent III excommunicated the nobles and persecuted the Cathars seizing their property and making their lives as difficult as possible. Many of them died for their beliefs
First we lunched in the Square selecting regional dishes to delight us. We both chose different versions of cassoulet of duck and beans in a rich sauce. I will have to try that as well when I get back to New Zealand. We wandered slowly around the ramparts looking at tremendous views of the countryside. I thought about how the defenders would feel as they watched the crusader army approaching and knowing that there would be no quarter. We looked at the castle and the basilica from the outside and followed narrow little street full of shops selling things to tourists
Later that day we drove on towards Spain and stopped for the night at Narbonne Plage where we took a room in a seaside hotel. We strolled on the golden sand shore at sunset paddling in the warm water of the Mediterranean and looking towards Africa. There was a concert on that night at a stage adjacent to the shore but I was so tired I did not hear a thing. The beach is some distance from the town of Narbonne. We did not stop in the town at all.
The following day we drove around the Mediterranean edge of the mountain range. We stopped at a picturesque town called Cerbere just 4 km from the border. We picnicked near the lighthouse and admired the colour and clarity of the water. We imagined Ulysses sailing by and wondered if the town had taken its name from his adventure with Cerberus the three headed dog. According to Wikipedia Cerbere takes its name from other things and we were wrong
We returned to Barcelona via Figures so that we could visit the Dali museum showcasing his work. Luckily it was well signposted and there was a parking building with some vacant spaces nearby. There was no mistaking the museum. It has been built on the site of the town theatre that was destroyed during the Civil War. The building has pink exterior walls with numerous golden bread rolls arranged at regular intervals. Along the roof edge is a row of white egg shapes interspersed with faceless statues making semaphore moves. A round tower at one end is also crowned with egg shapes and along the street edge of the building is a row of slender cypress trees. The colour and texture combine to make a pleasing and distinctive building
Dali was born in Figures in 1904 so it was appropriate that he was commissioned to redesign the theatre in 1974. The museum is a sprawling temple to Surrealism containing his paintings, sculptures, sketches and installations created throughout his working life. Some of the more interesting installations included a portrait of himself from the back as he is painting the portrait of Gala (his muse) from the back. There was a rowboat suspended from the ceiling with blobs of blue resin hanging from it representing water. There was the Mae West room with a number of abstract objects that when viewed from a particular point combined to make the image of Mae West’s face. There was a “Rainy Cadillac” containing three mannequins wrapped in vine leaves and in a perpetual state of dampness due to the continuous rain inside the vehicle. It was all amazing and we stayed for hours
We made it back to Barcelona that night and stayed at the same hotel on the first floor at a cheaper rate than the conference price. We dined at Taller Tapas near Catalunya Square on the Ramblas and it was a new food experience for me. We had a variety of dishes in a busy atmosphere and I enjoyed trying out the many small servings
On our final day in Barcelona we took the Metro to the Ramblas in order to see the local market in operation. There were flower sellers spread along the Ramblas and stalls selling every kind of fruit and vegetable inside. The piles of produce were arranged in patters so they were like art work. It was interesting to see the local produce as well as imported goods. There were stalls for fish meat and spices as well as dried fruit and in a distant corner you could buy cooking implements as well. There were plenty of eating places. We chose tortilla
In a corner near the cathedral we found the archives of the House of Aragon. This place was not mentioned in any of the guide books so it was a happy and most interesting discovery. The archives were actually documents preserved by Jaume I to establish the legitimacy of his reign. Jaume is Catalan for James. His dates are 1208 to 1276. During his lifetime significant events included the Albigensian Crusade launched in 1209, the fall of the Kingdom of Jerusalem in 1244, the re establishment of the Byzantine Empire in 1261 and the establishment of the Inquisition in the province of Tarragona in 1232.
Jaume was orphaned at an early age yet in 1274 he attended the Second Council of Leon as the Dean-King of Christendom. His parents were Peter and Mary who decided after some years of marriage that they did not like each other so they petitioned the Pope for a divorce. How ironic that the ancestors of Katherine of Aragon were also involved in a messy divorce. During his earliest days Jaume was betrothed to the daughter of Simon de Montfort as a means of ensuring the boys safety. When Peter was killed in battle in 1213 young Jaume was placed into the care of Simon and had to be rescued from a life as a political pawn by the Pope. Jaume received some education while he was in the care of the Knights Templar of Spain but it seems that he could not read and write. This did not prevent him from having a distinguished career as a military man, politician and administrator. He remained a very devout man throughout his life.
The archives were fascinating not just for the story of his life but also for the social changes that happened during the life of Jaume I. I could see that more documents were written on paper rather than being illuminated on vellum. Early documents were written by monks but in the latter part of his reign documents were created in the vernacular by professional scribes. The handwriting was always exquisite and different languages were used ---- Latin, Aragonese (presumably an early form of modern Catalan) and even Hebrew.
During the reign of Jaume I the Church was extending its power by consolidating its own law and developing a financial system for the support of its clergy (livings and chaplaincies). The Church demanded judicial immunity and ignored fiscal impositions refusing to pay taxes. During this period the Church also brought civil matters under its jurisdiction such as marriages and wills. It relentlessly pursued dissidents and promised spiritual rewards to those who obeyed its directives. It appears that Jaume along with other Christian monarchs willingly submitted to the power of the Church.
I could have spent much more time at the archival display. I am not sure if it is a permanent installation or a more temporary reminder of his 800th anniversary. I would definitely go there again and would recommend it to anyone interested in social history
We went out of the archives building into the sunlit square in front of the cathedral. I was delighted to hear a street musician performing a cello solo. We went to the Olympic Village to see the Frank Gehry “Fish” sculpture then turned toward the airport. Somewhere along the way a pickpocket stole my camera so there will be no photos
After consulting the weather forecast (quite a delicate business here) we headed out along the A82 to Arrochar. We carried our lunches and wet weather gear as it was raining when we set off. We followed a well formed track along Glen Loinn under the power pylons for part of the way gaining height slowly until we had views of the Loch.
Then the sun came out. Sunlight and shadows followed each other along the steep hillsides. Black faced sheep muttered as we passed. There were lots of streams and waterfalls and the place looked green with pastures and black with rock faces. Barbara pointed out various landmarks such as Ben Lomond peeping shyly from behind a cloud veil and later in the day we had a magnificent view of The Cobbler which she climbed recently. The clouds lifted and we had views of other hills as well.
At the highest point we sat down by a bridge to picnic. Along came three women and two dogs striding from the direction that we were following. They were doing our path in reverse and they were obviously familiar with the territory. One in particular had climbed a number of the hills that we were passing. Barbara says that lots of people make it a target to climb all the munroes.
Nearby to our picnic spot was a significant dam. Barbara had seen that from the top of Ben Lomond several weeks before my arrival. As we continued our walk we came upon a number of smaller dams that we directing water to the main one through a series of tunnels and pipes. That is a bit different from our New Zealand experience where we usually (except for Tongariro) gather water from one river and make a large lake behind the dam.
The walk lasted over 5 hours and we covered about 17 km. We drove home another way, past the military base surrounded by barbed wire fences and through Helensborough. It was still sunny and a marked contrast to our trip along the A82 in the morning. We were keen to avoid that route home as the Scottish Open was in progress and despite the rain there were road blocks and hundreds of cars parked near the Golf Course. Happily there were no traffic snarls for us to negotiate
Barbara belongs to a book group and the meeting was at her place on Monday night. She baked a nut cake using the postcard recipe. We put out lots of refreshments then the calls started to come from people who could not attend. In the end there were 4 of us at the meeting including a couple from Helensborough and we had an excellent discussion.
The book for the month was “Wolf Hall” by Hilary Mantell and it tells the story of Thomas Cromwell (an ancestor of Oliver) in the court of Henry VIII at the time of the Kings involvement with Anne Boleyn. I was about one third of the way through the 600 pages when we held the meeting but I was finding the book very interesting. The participants at the meeting agreed that the writing style was hard to follow in that there was a stream of consciousness that made it difficult to follow who was speaking about whom. I wondered whether the writer intended to create a shimmer to give the feeling of the events without being too specific.
There was a feeling that the book was very long and this in itself could be discouraging. Some lengthy books are easier to read because of the style of writing. This one required some work and I will be doing that over the next few days.
We discussed what we remembered about Tudor times from our school days and Barbara drew attention to what we had learned about the power of the Church during our visit to the Aragon Archives. Then the discussion turned to the way in which books are disseminated these days. We all agreed that we preferred to have something to hold while reading as this was part of the relaxation and comfort of becoming immersed in a story. We are not sure if we could read something like this on line.
A long standing appointment to dine with Maureen and Nick was fulfilled on Wednesday. They live at Bishopbriggs, a suburb on the far side of town from Barbara’s place. We drove out there with me navigating so we only missed one turnoff and arrived in good time. We were delighted by the amount of light in the kitchen. Last time I visited the kitchen was in disarray because Nick was carrying out alterations and it was a difficult area to navigate. Now the work is completed and their end terrace house has been transformed. They have skylights and almost the whole wall in the kitchen is now glass making a bright cheerful place similar to a conservatory. There was an excellent view of the garden which we inspected at close quarters. I noted that the neighbours do not appear to have time for their gardens and I thought about my neglected weed patch in Thames.
After dinner we moved into the lounge to see part of the DVD, “Beyond Tolerance”, made by Sonja. I had seen other parts of the pre launch version when Sonja and Maureen came to New Zealand but I can now see that the whole presentation is of a high quality and I hope that it will receive a wide circulation. We discussed the possibility that Maureen will return to NZ next February when there may be a chance for her to promote the DVD.
On Thursday Barbara and I lunched with Kirsteen at her home in Cardross. Four of us sat down to lunch including Ian who arrived before us in his new red sports car with the roof down. The day was overcast and although we were able to walk around the garden for a short while there was a huge clap of thunder and heavy rain as we were having a cup of tea. Ian’s car got rather wet as a result. As we were leaving we put the roof back on and shortly after the rain came down in bucket loads.
Kirsteen generously gave us a box of black currants from her garden so I am planning to make a summer pudding for dessert one day next week. Barbara made a cake with a chocolate topping decorated with shavings of coconut. It looked absolutely marvelous and I am happy to report that it was very well received when we took it to a party on Saturday night. The party was to celebrate a house sale in a suburb further away from Barbara’s place than Maureen’s home. There will be a house warming party hosted by the same person in a few weeks. It will be a chance for more showing off in the cake department.
Every Saturday morning there is a Farmers Market in Glasgow. The venue alternates between Queen’s Park near Barbara’s place and Partick which is further away. This week it was near Barbara so we took our shopping bags and walked over there to stock up the larder. It was a relatively small market this time with an accordion player and a face painter as well as the more usual stalls of vegetables and hand made soap. We were disappointed that there were no berries but we bought fish and meat.
It is always a joy to see the piled up fruits and vegetables and to know that they are fresh and sold by the growers. Well it is mostly the growers who sell these items. We found fennel bulbs with the leaves still attached and yellow tomatoes in plastic boxes. Usually there are sellers of heritage potatoes but perhaps due to the Bank Holiday Weekend even the sellers had taken time off. We bought fish including smoked haddock, salmon and sea bass. We also decided on roast beef for Sunday lunch
Barbara is a regular at the market and I was delighted at how often she was able to have real conversations with sellers who knew her and were interested in what she wanted to buy. This made the whole business of shopping so much more interesting. All of the suppliers were from the local area so the market was a social occasion as well as a commercial activity. This must have been how our foremothers did their shopping.
The biggest surprise at the market was to find a man selling seaweed of various kinds. He came from Bute with boxes of bright green sea lettuce, ribbons of golden brown kelp and large leaves of something else that I had never seen before. He had something that looked like spaghetti and offered us a taste of this in a provencal sauce. I would not have recognized this as seaweed. He had a large tangled pile of dark looking seaweed with bulbs on it which he said should be soaked in the bath. I was captivated by this idea. He said it was good for tired backs and should be soaked in the bath water before getting into it. He indicated that it would be very envigorating and we were keen to try it out.
The man from Bute said that he had most of his customers at the Glasgow market and that Edinburgh was too far away to sell his wares freshly harvested. I gathered that he would go out in the morning and wade in the water gathering different kinds of seaweed which he then dried sufficiently for transporting them to market. We bought sea lettuce to try out in the next few days.
On the way home from the market we called in at the bread shop called “Tapa”. With a name like that it could only relate to the Pacific. Sure enough there was a large tapa cloth on the wall. The bakers are a couple of kiwis who bake real bread and Barbara is a regular customer. I have often enjoyed their rye and caraway loaf but this time we bought brioches for breakfast. How wonderful to see the traditional fluted shape and to hear the Kiwi proprietress explaining that these were not full of calories but should rather be regarded as a health food due to the organic flour and the omega 3 in the butter. I look forward to enjoying these guilt free treats
Barbara’s locality is well served with public parks. Part of my walking plan is to get fit for walking the Camino but I really need to be more focused about climbing hills and walking briskly. I am trying to walk every day and the local parks are a big asset.
I have been walking several times recently in Queen’s Park just around the block from her home. Queens’ Park is named for Mary Queen of Scots rather than Queen Elizabeth II. It is a substantial area with a Scottish Poetry Rose Garden as well as a large ornamental pond and a view point at the top of the hill. There have in the past been breeding swans on the pond in Queen’s Park but I have not seen any this year. The usual nesting spot is deserted. Over the last week (since the start of the school holidays) there have been lots of youngsters learning to sail on the ornamental pond. They have been wearing safety helmets and life jackets and sailing around in small sailboats about the size of the P Class yachts that I remember from home. Maybe they have frightened away the swans. There are plenty of brown ducks who fear no person or dog so the absence of swans remains a mystery.
Queen’s Park is situated adjacent to the village of Crossmyloof with the suburb of Shawlands on one side and the Battlefield area on the other. There is a tall memorial on the far side of the park from where Barbara lives marking the spot where Mary Queen of Scots was involved in her last battle. Afterwards she was captured and held at Fotheringay Castle. The village of Crossmyloof was a substantial settlement until a 19th century road development cut the place in two and much of the housing stock was destroyed. The naming history of the place is hard to discover as the word “loof” is not in use today.
There are a number of different stories about the name. The word “loof” means palm of the hand so one story has it that a fortune teller met the Queen as she was on her way to the battle and offered to tell her fortune if her palm was crossed with silver. Another story suggests that the Queen rode though the village carrying a golden crucifix in her hand and vowing to win the battle. Which ever version is correct there is not much village nowadays and the housing stock is all late 19th century tenements.
Another park was given to the nation by a wealthy benefactor and is now known as Pollock Park. This is a larger open area and contains an ancient fort that was being excavated last time I was here. There was no sign of the archaeologists this time although the outline of a motte and bailey was fairly clear. Pollock park contains the wonderful Burrell Gallery and the stately home, Pollock House” with its formal gardens and arboretum. I have never made the tour of the house itself although it is possible to take tea in the old kitchen and you can buy jam and other local products from another room in the former kitchen complex.
My walk to Pollock Park this week included a ramble through the woods and a cup of tea in the kitchen garden. It was fine and still. I shared my table with some ladies from East Kilbride on a shopping trip to Glasgow. I met some people riding horses and lots of dog walkers. The police dog training centre is located in this park along with the police stables where the horses are maintained. In Glasgow police officers ride horses in crowd control situations such as football matches so Pollock Park is quite a good location for the stables. The park also contains a lot of farmland where visitors can observe Highland cattle at close quarters.
Yesterday Barbara drove us out to another walking place at Croy Bay near Ayr. We parked the car at the end of a narrow road next to a house called Goatsgreen. At once we could smell the tang of the sea. We walked along the shore finding many different kinds of seaweed washed up on the shore. There were long brown strands like spaghetti and clumps of jagged leaves that looked black rather than green. There were many bright green leaves like lettuce as well as an assortment of jellyfish and shells. The seaweed was so thick on the beach that it made a slippery spongy mat that we walked over carefully. It was so bracing to be on the beach in the sunshine.
As we walked along the shore we had magnificent views of Arran and Ailsa Craig (where there is a bird sanctuary). We saw some birds flying and some wading. The latter included oyster catchers and although I looked hard I did not see a godwit. We climbed up at least 100 steps to Culzean Castle where we crossed the bridge into the grounds. There was a huge ruined gate with views of the castle beyond. There was a most beautiful garden with a parterre heavily planted with flowers that I could not recognize. There was an orangerie filled with various citrus fruits and also with fuschias. We visited the swan pond but there were no swans. The walled garden was a magnificent area of densely planted flowers and espaliered apple trees. I was so inspired again by the luxuriant display of hydrangeas. It was a truly wonderful afternoon for admiring gardens.
We walked along the cliff breathing in the sea air and we found the fortifications that had been made during the Napoleonic Wars with cannon and earthworks still in place. It all looked a lot tidier than the fortifications in Auckland and I gather that these are the best preserved in Britain.
It was late in the day when we arrived at the National Trust shop where I bought postcards for the folks at home. I am working on the idea of replacing my camera. I have looked at reviews and compared prices. I am still hoping to put photos on to this blog one day.
On 20 July after spending the night at the home of Nick and Maureen Sier we drove towards Comrie for Summer School. Unfortunately the way was not smooth. The car gave up the ghost on the motorway and we had to be towed to safety by a friend. He subsequently drove Maureen and me to the venue for Summer School leaving Nick to deal with the dead car.
Summer School was held at a place called Comrie Crofts Hostel
The literature described it as a 4 star 'low blood pressure hostel’ and it was certainly a relaxed and tranquil spot situated in the beautiful Perthshire countryside outside the town of Comrie. It has been set up for bicycle tourists with an accommodation wing and a small shop supplying things like allen keys and puncture repair kits, crash helmets and torches as well as things of more general importance such as chocolate
Meals were taken in the building on the right and it appeared to accommodate the 90 odd participants comfortably. The weather was fine so some of the people sat at tables outside the kitchen/dining area (obscured by trees in the picture). There was a grassed area to the right of the building on the left where some sessions were held in a yurt. I attended a session about families and relationships based on the concepts of the Virtues Project as well as the Baha’I Writings and this one was held in a meeting hall in the building on the left.
Later in the afternoon Maureen gave a talk about her Interfaith work and showed part of the DVD produced by her daughter Sonja. The DVD was well received and there was a discussion about the distribution of this material. At Maureen request I gave a short talk about the development of the Faith in New Zealand and I was interested to find that a number of participants had either visited NZ themselves of met Kiwis in different parts of the world.
I met some lovely people and was sorry to leave after only one day. The Summer School appeared to be a relaxed event without a great deal of formal activities on offer. As a result I was able to spend a good time getting to know some of the people. Maureen and I were dropped off in Stirling by some of her friends and we took the train back to her home. Nick has arranged to order another camera for me to replace the stolen one and it will be delivered to his home later in the week. The should mean that I will soon be in a position to post photos on this site.
One of the special events this year to observe the Homecoming was a four day event hosted by the Department of Genealogical Studies at Strathclyde University. Each day focused on the contribution of Scottish emigrants to a particular country so I decided to attend the day devoted to NZ. Other days focused on Scottish people in Canada and USA, in India and in the West Indies.
I arrived early on the NZ day to find my way around and to take full advantage of the expertise of the people that I expected to meet there and I was not disappointed. I met Bruce Durie who has relatives amongst the Maori community (notably Mason Durie) and he introduced me to various people to help with my research. I wished that Barbara could have attended as well as there was so much to learn and I think she would have been able to ask questions based on her research.
I began by looking at the displays set up by various agencies that are involved with historical and genealogical research such as the National Archives (London), the Scottish National Archives (Edinburgh) the archives departments of Glasgow University and various trade organizations. Bruce Durie introduced me to Peter McManus of the BBC who wanted to interview people of Scottish heritage from overseas. I seemed to fit the bill so he listened in as I questioned one of the experts about how to advance the search for my family history. Later he interviewed me alone and we arranged to meet during the Clan Gregor meeting so that he could ask about my progress.
During the afternoon there were a number of talks from experts such as Dr Marjory Harper from Aberdeen University who is writing a book about Scottish emigrants to NZ. She had a number of very interesting comments about the popular mythology about the emigrants. Contrary to the common belief most of the Scottish people who flocked to NZ in the 1860s and 1870s were not crofters cleared from their Highland farms. Most of those people went to Canada. Those who came to NZ were mostly urban dwellers and there were also fishermen who left due to bad seasons and the grinding effect of the barter system. The Anglican clergy played an important role in encouraging emigration as did a number of colonial agents such as John McGlashan who lectured in the Lowlands extolling the advantages of Otago.
She pointed out that the main mechanism of recruitment came through the encouragement of family and friends resulting in “Chain migration” of extended families from the same district to join relatives in NZ. Emigration did not end with the opening of the 20th century. Rather it changed in character as veterans from two world wars went in search of a new life. The harsh winter of 1947 and the royal tour in 1953 were used to promote the advantages of NZ. During the lecture we viewed archival movies from the 1950s that showed NZ in the best light and glossed over the difficulties.
Another speaker mentioned the values of the Scottish people that enabled them to uproot themselves and travel half way around the world taking with them their culture and hopes for the future. The Scottish identity was an advantage that enabled people to settle in a new land. The spurious identity of porridge, piping and Presbyterianism must be balanced against the loyalty of the Scots to each other, to the regiment or the Lodge or to the benevolent society. Scottish people are accustomed to uncertainty and hardship so they are flexible and adapt relatively easily to new circumstances
It was a very worthwhile day and I am delighted that I made the time to attend
About 6 years ago I sent a few days with Rosemary and David McLaughlin at their home in Rendall, Orkney Islands. Despite keeping in touch sporadically we did not manage to meet again until last week. Although they are still living in the Orkneys they were passing through Glasgow on holiday so I met them for lunch at the Kelvingrove Gallery. They were taking the children to see the Dr Who Exhibition there so it was easy for me to meet them there. We almost did not find each other as I was waiting in the wrong place for a while but eventually we did have lunch then we went out to Queen’s Park near Barbara’s home.
It did not feel as though we had not seen each other for so long. I realized when I met Abigail who was a lively 6 year old at the time of my visit and now about to start high school that things had changed a lot. It was my first opportunity to meet Gareth who had not been born when I was there. Gareth was delighted to climb on things and play on the swings in the park while the adults looked on. We fed the ducks and strolled along the paved path to the viewpoint at the top of the hill. Well Rosemary and I strolled but David and the children scrambled up a steep track and reached the top so long before us that they sent us text messages to hurry up.
They came to Barbara’s place for supper. I made a summer pudding (my first attempt at this classic dish) which was a great success with the adults. We chatted together for some hours until the children got tired. It was still daylight when they left but the sun is not setting until after 9 pm.
Edinburgh University nestles at the foot of a towering volcanic plug known as Arthur’s Seat. This landform dominates the view from Chancellor’s Court where we stayed and provided a dramatic backdrop to the Homecoming Gathering at the park adjacent to Holyrood Palace. We decided to climb it at some stage. We saw many others with the same idea toiling up the slope and walking along the skyline.
Chancellor’s Court is a comfortable place for visiting academics and more significantly it is located within easy walking distance of Holyrood. We had prebooked our tickets so we were able to avoid the queues at the entrance but once inside the crowd grew steadily. I heard afterwards that there were 47,000 people in attendance at different times over the weekend. Saturday was a still sunny day and I got sunburnt!!! Sunday was dull but fortunately there was no rain or the ground would have become a Culloden quagmire.
The grounds were divided into areas for different activities. There was a clan village at the palace end of the park with about 80 tents housing different clans and related groups. I spent very little time there as there was just so much else to see and do.
There was a main arena where the strong man events took place. These included tossing the caber, hammer throwing and putting the stone. I was particularly impressed by the tug of war where the world champion team made short work of opponents. The champions took the field wearing denim reinforced by leather together with work boots. I learned a little about the technique of this sport when the champions in unison dug the heels of their work boots into the ground and as they began to pull on the rope they took determined little steps away from the other team to pull their opponents off balance. The effect was rather like a machine and it was very effective.
There were pipe band competitions and marching by massed bands in the main arena. The opening of the event by HRH the Duke of Rothesay was also held in the main arena followed by dancing events. I did not spend a lot of time here either.
The main stage was the venue for back to back concerts by Scottish artists including the Red Hot Chili Pipers who described their music as “bag rock”and they were very loud indeed. Julie Fowlis sang in Gaelic and English and sounded just beautiful. Another performance came from a group called Capercaillie. The offerings were varied and fun.
Another venue was the Wee Stage where there were demonstrations and opportunities to try Scottish Country dancing. I enjoyed a skit by Chris Tait who is the official representation of Robbie Burns for the year of the Homecoming. He told stories about the Bard and recited some of his poems including Tam o Shanter as well as the love poetry. It was a riveting performance.
In the Scotland Lives Auditorium there were speakers about various aspects of Scottish history and life. I attended an interesting talk about Mary Queen of Scots and another about the Stone of Destiny. In an adjacent pavilion there were the experts who could help people with family research and I met a number of people from the Strathclyde Genealogical Festival. I met an archaeologist who was able to tell me about the findings made at a dig in Pollock Park that I visited in 2007.
There were so many things to see that even though we stayed both days until the security people were closing the gates we barely had time to taste everything. We did taste some of the Scottish food that was on offer. We admired the arts and crafts and wandered around the Gaelic language displays and the forestry pavilion. I met the Loyal Men (Jacobites) who were toasting Bonnie Prince Charlie with enthusiasm. We also enjoyed the story telling by some of the survivors of Scotland’s travelling people.
Unfortunately I missed out on the Piobaireachd competition and nor did I get to hear some of the talks from the published Scottish authors. It was a wonderful opportunity to enjoy aspects of the Scottish heritage and by the end of the weekend we were quite exhausted.
Saturday night was also a special experience as we marched up the Royal Mile to Edinburgh Castle in our clan groups. There was tartan as far as the eye could see and many men were armed to the teeth with claymores, dirks and sgian dubhs. The police had announced that a tolerant view would be taken to the carrying of arms provided these were not brandished aggressively. Led by pipe bands and 6 to a row we shuffled up the hill. There must have been 5000 marchers and many more lining the streets. The McGregors from all over the world led by our chief (Sir Malcolm McGregor of McGregor) were a rowdy bunch yelling out war cries much to amusement of the bystanders and I think the discomfort of our chief. Some incautious bystander shouted “The Campbells are Coming”. “we are ready” returned the McGregors and there was much punching of the air in front of a grinning police officer.
Our chief said later that he thought this was the largest march through Edinburgh since an event organized by Sir Walter Scott in 1822 when the McGregors carried the Honours of Scotland in a parade with King George IV who was splendidly arrayed in tartan for the occasion. A wonderful painting of this occasion showing the then McGregor chief and other clansmen in full regalia hangs in the parlour at the present chief’s residence.
Once we reached the castle there was a long wait until the pageant began at 10 pm. This was an extravagant story telling production of a woman called Aisling MacLean and her descendants for 6 generations. The name “Aisling” means “vision” in Gaelic and the woman uses her powers of second sight to take us through an allegorical journey through Scottish history starting with the Declaration of Arbroath in 1320. The show was called “Aisling’s Children” and it was designed to show how all of the audience was part of her family. “Clann” means “children “ in Gaelic so the history of Aislings children is Scottish history. The history began with the Battle of Flodden then introduced a woam who was a lady in waiting to Mary Queen of Scots. After that we heard from a soldier at Culloden, a crofter cleared from the Highlands, an emigrant to Australia and a farmer in Queensland. He made the point that be has Aussie born and bred but a Scot through and through.
It was a well put together entertainment but there was too much emphasis on conflict. Where was the piping and the dancing. Where was the emphasis on education and independence. What about the hospitality and other customs. People seemed to enjoy it and as we walked home there were many in the streets having a good time.
On Monday morning Barbara and I met a guide who took us walking over Arthur’s Seat. He was expecting a larger group but they did not show up and it was just 3 of us who set off for a walk through the past. We were expecting this to last about 3 hours but we went slowly and asked lots of questions so we were over an hour late getting back to the starting point.
The theme of the walk was the way in which Arthur's Seat had inspired poets and writers over the years. The guide explained how Sir Walter Scott walked over this hill. Robbie Burns was inspired by the view and even Ian Rankin wrote about some mysterious human models found by children playing in the hills. The suggestion was that the models represented the victims of a serial murderer.
We walked past St Margaret’s Well up to a ruined chapel on a spur overlooking the palace. Holyrood is named after an incident where the king was out hunting and saw a white stag. The horse reared up and threw the king who miraculously found a cross in his hand. He held up the cross and the stag faded away. In gratitude for this deliverance the king built a monastery whose ruins are now adjacent to the palace. The holyrood is the holy cross that warded off the danger.
The guide was very well informed about the history, geology and archaeology of the area. We continued up the hill to look at views over the modern city and to see places where the ancients had their villages or perhaps forts. High on the mountainside we saw a rock that must have been on a shoreline thousands of years ago. There were marks on the rock consistent with the honeycomb patterns made by shallow water on sandstone.
We went around to the university side of the hill where we were shown the evidence that convinced James Hutton that Arthur’s Seat was of volcanic origin. It was a well spent morning and I recommend that walk to anyone.
After a light lunch in the palace café we visited the Parliament building and admired the architecture and the security arrangements. It is interesting to think that as we are approaching the 700th anniversary of the Battle of Bannockburn in 1314 (and a similar anniversary of the Declaration of Arbroath) there is a real and apparently growing interest in Scottish independence. It will be interesting to watch what happens over the next few years.
The clan gathering was held this year at Stirling and because of the Homecoming festivities there were many people attending form overseas. Although numbers varied during the six day meeting there were about 90 present for the formal dinner on 1 August. We stayed in the student hostel on the park like campus of Stirling University There was a view of the Wallace monument and the castle from the dining room and the company was excellent.
One of the purposes of such a gathering is to allow clansfolk to get to know each other. The last time I attended such an event was in 2007 when the numbers were much smaller. This time there were clan members from 11 different countries so we certainly achieved the “getting to know you” agenda.
Another purpose of the gathering is to reinforce a group identity by visiting places important in clan history and I think we achieved that brilliantly. We went to a number of localities where McGregors lived and farmed and were buried. In historical times Mcgregors settled in Glen Lyon and Glen Orchy so we visited churches in both areas. There are historic gravestones in the parish church at Glen Orchy and investigations are still underway to locate the resting places of 12 chiefs said to be buried near the altar of the original church. Some of the gravestones were stacked outside during renovations and they have deteriorated due to the weather. Others lying flat on the ground have been damaged by the lawnmower. With some effort it is still possible to discern flower patterns and swords and other emblems on the gravestones.
Peter McManus from the BBC caught up with me at this church while I was musing about the generations of ancestors who had walked amongst these hills. There was a short service in the church followed by tea and shortbread then some of us walked up the hill to a place where the McGregors had built a defensive house. There was no sign of the building but it was obviously a commanding position in relation to the river.
We went to the church at Dalmally and drove around the clan lands stopping at Balquidder to see the grave of Rob Roy. We drove in a large circle through Perthshire passing the Sheriffmuir battlefield, Dunblane, Lanrick Castle as well as Callander. We passed the field at Lochearnhead where the McGregor Games are held each year. We stopped at Fortingall to see the 5000 year old yew tree then over the Tay Bridge, through Glen Almond past Braco to the Bridge of Allen and back to Stirling.
On other days we visited the Falkirk Wheel and Stirling Castle. We were treated to a reception with the Provost at the Smith Gallery. We had afternoon tea at Bannatyne, the home of Sir Malcolm McGregor, where we were able to admire many artworks and other historical artifacts. Sitting in the bus as the countryside rushed by I was able to have many conversations with McGregors from all over the world
One night we dined at the Bridge of Lochay Hotel where we stayed for the 2007 gathering. On another occasion we went to the School of Management at Stirling University where the local Burns Society hosted a Burns Supper with all the trimmings including piping in the haggis and recitals of Burns poetry. The world president of the Burns Society who lives close to Stirling, was present.
There was a formal clan dinner at the University on 1 August when clan members wore traditional regalia. Many of the women wore beautiful silk skirts in McGregor tartan and we made an impressive display.
After the AGM on the Sunday morning we were taken out to Loch Katrine where we sailed out to the end of the loch to see the house where Rob Roy spent his childhood. It was a beautiful day and the views of the hills were simply marvelous. The day ended with a BBQ beside the loch which was my 3rd one of this summer.
As we packed up the following morning and exchanged promises to keep in touch Ken Fagg played his pipes at the entrance to the hostel. I shared a taxi to the station with three others and we were extremely moved to be followed on the homeward journey by the skirl of the pipes. Barbara went to Glasgow the night before but I went to Pitlochry to look at silk skirts. I finally selected a sensible long woolen one in McGregor tartan. It will be an excellent memento of a wonderful week.
Somehow Maureen has managed to fit in teaching a junior youth class with all her other activities. She invited me along to a service activity arranged by the class. The class consists of 4 girls aged around 12 years. They meet regularly and study Virtues as well as Baha’I materials. Maureen showed me their work folders decorated with pictures clipped from magazines and pasted on to the covers. They had completed some written work and placed it in their folders and I was quite impressed with the standard of their work.
The girls came up with an idea of holding a stall in the back yard of one of their homes in order to raise money for cancer victims. When I arrived they had arranged many items on a table and marked prices for sale. They had also arranged games such as guessing the number of sweets in a jar. The person with the most accurate guess would receive he jar full of goodies. Nick Sier came along to be a busker. One of the mothers served tea on the patio and the girls had made some treats with chocolate dipped marshmallows in paper cups.
The girls sold their books and toys to other members of their families and I do not know how much money was raised. It was a delightful afternoon and an excellent example of how well the junior youth can do things if they are given a chance.
I'd like to tell you people I met her at a fair,
But I met her in a pub down by the far side of the square.
She was dark and she was handsome and her name was Mary-Lee,
And I'll tell you of the good times of Mary-Lee and me.
She said she was a gypsy and I knew she didn't lie -
You could see the fires of India in her dark and roaming eyes.
I knew I couldn’t hold her, I knew she must be free
But no power on Earth could quench the love I had for Mary-Lee.
She said that all her horses had long since passed away.
The family remembers them as carefree happy days.
Her granddad used to drive in a pony and a trap,
But now they lived in Bradford where her father dealt in scrap.
I couldn’t really tell you how we passed away our time.
We mostly spent the evenings drinking Tetley’s Ale and wine.
Although it may seem commonplace the way I’m telling you,
To me a life with Mary-Lee was like a dream come true.
I courted this young gypsy girl from autumn into spring
And I thought that the time had come for me to offer her my ring.
But I never plucked my courage up ‘fore I became to see,
That Mary-Lee grew restless with the pudding of the trees.
It was on a Sunday afternoon I called to take her out.
It was Mary’s dad, not Mary, who answered to my shout,
“If it’s her that you’re seeking you’ve a long long way to go,
She joined a band for Scotland at least twelve hours ago.”
For a while I stood there speechless at what her father said,
And the promises I’d hoped for were still ringing in my head.
And I knew that I must travel on the road that she’d gone on -
Even if it took me to the dark side of the sun.
So early the next morning I started for Ilkley.
The city was silent and still as a stone.
With hope in my heart and fire in my head,
I set off to find where the gypsies had gone.
I flagged down a car that dropped me at Bolton
The valley before me had harnessed my pack.
Walking alone by the low hills of Wharfedale,
By the black top of Keighley I saw the dawn crack.
The first one I met on the road was a farmer.
He nodded his head as he passed me by.
I asked him politely if he’d seen the gypsies,
“They were camped up at Langstrothdale,” came his reply.
By the evening I came to the village of Buckden
And decided that here I should make my night’s stop.
“Have you seen the gypsies?” I asked my friend Jackie,
“They’ve moved on,” he said, “They’ve gone over the top.”
So next morning I took the road into Wensleydale,
Moorland before me, stretched out like a dream.
Up by the boulders and over the bridge
Where the white lady walks into the stream.
I stopped an old man I’d met once before:
Kit Cowbert, the maker of Wensleydale cheese.
And when I asked Kit if he’d seen the gypsies,
The words that he spoke failed to put me at ease.
He said, “The gypsies left early, I watched as they went
They had one amongst them, thy dark haired lass.
She shouted to me from the back of a wagon
They were making for Keld by the Buttertubs Pass”.
Now the Buttertubs Pass, it’s steep and it’s high
And the horses would find it a hard way to go.
If I set on the road and my boots didn’t fail me
I might catch them up before daylight was through.
High on the road, and nobody near me,
Far from the city, and far from all harm.
Sheep on the hillside, grouse in the heather,
The blind windows of a far-distant farm.
As the sun dropped down low I came into Thwaite,
Leaving behind me the dusk on the fell.
I started straight ‘way down the road into Keld
When anyone’s played his harmonium fails.
From a field by the road I saw the smoke rising.
I hitched up my pack and I rounded the bend.
I first saw the horses, and then saw the wagons,
And I knew that my journey was nearing its end.
Mary walked up to me and I looked into her eyes,
And the sadness in her face is a thing I can’t describe.
We didn’t speak a word, there was nothing we could say
About the closing of a love affair, the closing of a day.
Mary took my hand in hers, I took her hand in mine,
Just one more night together before we had our time.
We couldn’t sleep inside the van (there wasn’t any room)
So I spent the night in Mary’s arms beneath the haloed moon.
I woke up in the morning, the light was cold and grey.
The gypsies and their caravans had gone upon their way.
In my head a burning pain, in my heart a hole,
By my side a note was pinned, “Have mercy on my soul”.
The last time I heard a word about my Mary Lee,
She was married to a tinker and was living in Dundee.
They say she has a baby now to bounce upon her knee,
And I wonder in the long nights if she ever thinks of me.
The band called Mr Fox was formed in the 1970s and they performed music telling stories about the Yorkshire Dales. I always loved their style of playing without knowing much about them. The above song is called “The Gypsy” and tells about an unsuccessful love affair. I did not realise that the places mentioned in the song actually existed but since I have been here with Glenys and Ray Marriott I have visited a number of them.
I took the Carlisle to Settle railway on a beautiful day alighting at Garsdale where Ray and Glenys met me on the platform. Garsdale is their nearest station about 40 minutes from their home in Newbeggin in Bishopdale. The scenery is simply beautiful with the dales coloured every shade of green along steep sided valleys and the moors (when we reached them) coloured rich brown tinged purple with Heather.
We drove from the station to the Wensleydale Creamery at Hawes for lunch. On the wall of the restaurant was a large portrait of Kit Calvert who is credited with saving the creamery from going out of business. I know this is not the same name as the one in the song but it is close. I was able to try out four different cheeses (delicious) then we went slowly to Newbeggin following along the River Ure to Aysgarth where we crossed into Bishopdale. I have been warned numerous times that the weather here is not always fine and warm. The land is so green and lush that I know it must rain often but I have seen no sign of it.
Wensleydale like the other dales ( there are lots of them) is a glacial valley and is wider than some. It is crisscrossed with dry stone walls running from the horizon to the river separating the different farms. Each farm therefore has some land beside the river and some on the slope and some near the top of the ridge. Each part of the land has different uses. The low areas beside the river are used for growing feed crops for the livestock. The steep high ground is used for the cows in summer and there can be sheep or cattle on the middle ground. There are many small barns made of local stone for storing winter feed crops such as hay. I love the way the local stone shines in the sunshine and the light and shadow are continually changing.
Ray and Glenys live in a new home that faces a sheep paddock. I can hear the sheep muttering as I fall asleep at night. The living areas of the house are upstairs so we can enjoy a wonderful view of the hills.
We dined out at a nearby pub called “the George and Dragon” located in Aysgarth. It was a cozy place where the people from the community can meet and discuss the affairs of the day.
On Friday we left Newbeggin early to drive the length of Wharfedale on the way to Skipton. On the way we had a clear view across to Pendle Hill in Lancashire but there was no safe place to stop to take a photo. We travelled through Buckden, Starbotton, Kettlewell, Threshfield to Skipton and from there to Haworth where we caught up with the literary history of the Bronte family. Here is not the place to discuss the novels written by the famous sisters but rather it is a time to think about their lives in a small town and the fact that they all died young. Charlotte was the only one to marry but she died in under a year after the wedding during the early stages of pregnancy. The Bronte museum had some of her clothing and her size was so small that she looked rather like a petite adolescent. She had such tiny feet and hands. This raises in my mind the idea that the family were not well fed and I know that the two older girls died in quick succession after being sent to school. As a result of that tragedy the other children were home schooled and did not go out anywhere very much.
During their lives the village of Haworth was very small but had at least one pub where their brother Branwell was able to develop a life threatening drinking habit. Now it is bigger and sadly the sky line is festooned with windmills. There is even a huge white wind generator in the town itself. I suppose I expected that a town so famous would have been protected from such awful development. There was a number of new houses that did not fit in with the older ones. The cobbled street where the Brontes would have done their shopping was lined with kitschy gift shops but at the bottom of the hill was a coffee shop called “Wharenui” !!! I went in and spoke to the woman in charge and even persuaded her to come outside for a photo.
From Haworth we headed out to Saltaire to visit a mill developed by Sir Titus Salt. He built housing for the workers along with a school and other facilities. He tried to cut back the expectation of long hours of work. The mill must have been huge in its heyday employing large numbers of people but today the looms have gone and the building is relatively silent. Now it is used as an art gallery featuring the work of David Hockney. The exhibition was most interesting and it was good to see that the historic building is now being put to good use.
On the way home we stopped in Kettlewell to have an icecream and to admire the scarecrows. At this time of year there is an annual competition to build and display a scarecrow in the most realistic and imaginative way. There were some excellent examples and my favourite was the elegant woman in a cottage garden.
The warm sunshine continued as we went out for dinner to a neighbouring home. We sat in the sun for predinner nibbles and admired the view of the Roman road that went straight up the side and over the top of a nearby hill. It was a very pleasant evening getting to know some of the local people.
Saturday was the third fine day in a row and a good opportunity to see the surrounding countryside. Ray and I visited Middleham Castle where Richard III married Anne Neville in 1472. He made Middleham his administrative centre. Although the castle is in ruins now it was clearly an imposing place at one stage with elaborate fortifications. We walked around the perimeter and noted the farmhouses close to the castle walls. It was a great contrast to Bolton Castle that we visited later that afternoon.
We passed through the village of Bainbridge where there is a large Quaker community. A notice outside the Meeting House announced Meeting for Worship one Sunday per month. We drove from Leyburn over the top of the fell past the Army shooting range into Swaledale. We followed the River Swale through Gunnerside amd Muker then over the Buttertubs Pass. We did not go into Thwaite as it was about one mile off our route. As we went over the top Ray pointed out the road to Keld. In the 19th century the only Anglican Church in the area was some distance away in Grinton so the coffins had to be carried over the hill on what is still known as the Corpse road.
We stopped at Reeth to see the museum and to have a coffee with Helen who took on the curating of the museum as a retirement project. We had a very interesting discussion about family trees and hunting for ancestors. I told her about the Strathclyde Genealogical Festival.
We had a picnic lunch at Semer Water near a hump backed bridge. A cold wind sprang up and we moved on over the hill to the Aysgarth Falls and from there to Bolton Castle. This was a large home built in 1399 by the Chancellor of England during the reign of Richard II. The house was used for a brief period ( in 1568/9) by Mary Queen of Scots as her captors decided where to hold her. It was a Royalist stronghold during the Civil War. It was used as the HQ of the Loyal Dales Volunteers during the Napoleonic Wars. Today Bolton Castle is partly ruined but there are some habitable areas where visitors can have a cup of tea or buy mementoes. It will be an enormous task to restore the castle and I do not know if this will ever happen. There is a maze and a rose garden as well as a small vineyard and the place is used for wedding receptions and other social gatherings.
In 1949 the British government passed the legislation that allowed the setting aside of large parcels of land as National Parks. The Yorkshire Dales National Park was established in 1954 covering 1762 sq km. Many of the places that we have visited over the last few days are actually within the boundaries of the National Park. Today we went for a walk on the fell at the head of Bishopdale. We walked along the stake road to the ridge then climbed over a stile and continued across a field.
The road has been recently upgraded by laying fresh gravel in the muddiest areas. The land was actually very dry due to the lack of rain. Only the deepest puddles and mud hollows were still wet. When we crossed the dry stone wall and started walking over the field we disturbed some curlews that rose up with plaintive cries to distract our attention from a nest. We saw sheep with blqck faces and great flights of grouse. Shooting season starts next weekend.
When we reached the road again we soon met 5 motorcyclists. Bunnies ran across the road and sheep bleated as we admired stupendous views. As we started down hill we met 7 more motorcyclists and saw Pendle Hill over the top of the fell. Glenys and Ray pointed out that in many years of making this walk at different times of the year this was the first time they could remember such clear conditions that made it possible to see Pendle Hill. I was delighted.
Later in the afternoon Glenys and I attended the fete at Thoralby where we chatted with lots of people. The fete was held on the village green and it was quite a small affair. There were lots of books for sale and a cake stall did a roaring trade. We had a cup of tea in the village hall where Glenys introduced the ranger for the National Park. I was able to ask him about red squirrels. These dear little creatures are in competition with grey squirrels but strong efforts are now being made to protect them. I hope to see at least one before I leave UK
After four days of fine weather in the dales it was raining when it was time for me to leave. I think it had been raining all night and the drizzle continued as we drove away from Newbeggin. Fortunately the rain had not been heavy enough to create a road blocking flood and we drove easily to North Allerton where I was to take a train to York. Since there was plenty of time we had a cup of tea at the famous Betty’s tearooms and I was able to sample some of the waist expanding wares. I chose a rock cake called a Yorkshire Fat Rascal
The Marriotts took me to the station and the train arrived within a short time and I was off to the next stage of my trip. The York station is in the centre of town close to the wall of the old city. I took a taxi from there to the B & B place in Heworth (pronounced “YOU with”) then walked back into town to start the sight seeing. I bought a three day tourist pass and so I had to make a very determined effort to use it to the fullest extent. There was no shortage of things to see and do.
York is an interesting place with a long history stretching back to pre Roman times. In fact there have been waves of human activity through successive occupation of the area by the Romans, Vikings, Normans etc. There has been a lot of work done on the development of Christianity. The archaeological work in the area has uncovered layers of history and much that is known about those early days lay buried for many centuries. The York Museum and the Castle Museum contained many artefacts that shed light on the early inhabitants not just through their buildings, tools and weapons but also through fragments of clothing, skeletal remains and even a fossilised human stool which was analysed for indications of the health of people in those days (Viking period). There was evidence of parasite infection. The human teeth gave an indication of the nutrition and thus conclusions could be drawn about the agriculture and food preferences at different stages in history.
The activities of the Romans are well documented in various museums and it is clear that York (known to them as Eboracum) was an important city. It was in York that Constantine the Great was made Roman Emperor in AD 306. the Vikings gave the city its name. Their word was Yorvik but the Viking Kingdom lasted only a short time. The Norman Conquest brought a long period of stability when York flourished as a centre of government and commerce, religion and culture for the North. York had an important role during the Plantagenet era and when the kingdom passed to the Tudors in 1485 York was at its zenith.
I spent an afternoon in the magnificent Minster that took 250 years to build. I visited the Merchant Adventurers House and the Treasurer’s House both of which were extremely interesting for the medieval architecture and the historical items on display. I was very impressed with the Yorvik Viking centre where visitors are taken on a time machine into the period of Viking occupation. This involved riding on a train with a commentary explaining the various scenes that unfolded in front of us. It was extremely well presented and informative.
After exploring the interior of this ancestral house I joined a ghost walk starting from the square at the rear of the Minster. A man in black wearing a bowler hat and carrying a furled umbrella led us around to various houses and buildings said to be haunted and regaled us with tales of murders and abandoned children. It was most entertaining and more of a theatrical experience than a scarey one.
Another visit was to the Clifford Tower which was part of the York Castle fortifications. The original tower was built by William the Conqueror in 1089 as the strongest part of the castle. The tower was burnt down by the people then another was constructed on the same conical mound overlooking the River Ouse. It was in this second tower in 1190 that a most horrifying event took place. York was once a centre of Jewish life and scholarship but a mob arose against them. The Jews took refuge in the tower but when it was clear that there was no escape many chose suicide rather than death at the hands of the fanatics. Many people died on that day --- men women and children.
By way of a complete contrast I also visited the beautifully preserved Georgian property called Fairfax House. This was well worth a visit and although it was very small it was full of beautiful furniture generously donated by a local collector. There were beautiful plaster ceilings and rooms furnished ready for the owners to return at any moment.
There was so much to see in York that even two days in the city was not enough time. I walked for miles over cobbled streets and through narrow alleys. I saw the original Betty’s tearooms and enjoyed the higgledy piggledy streets and overhanging half timbered houses. I will definitely return there when the opportunity offers
There was a bus stop conveniently located outside my B & B so before 9 am on a sunny morning I was waiting for the bus to Malton so that I could change for Castle Howard. The countryside was lush and green and the goal of the journey was like a jewel on velvet. I recognised the castle immediately as the set of the 1981 Granada TV series called Brideshead Revisited. I know that the cameras can do all sorts of things but it looked beautiful then and was even more wonderful in reality. Interestingly the same place has been chosen for the movie version of the same book.
There is a lot of history attached to the castle which is a very grand name for a place that has never been fortified. Technically I suppose it is a stately home rather than a castle. There is a lavish fountain and beautiful grounds. There was a market happening in the yard when I arrived and many local artists including bakers and pastry cooks, glass blowers, toy makers and jewellery makers were conducting a brisk trade. Attached to the yard was a “farm shop” selling locally produced meat and condiments as well as wine and cheese. It was clear that all food groups were amply supplied. The place looked luscious and prosperous
Inside the castle were many artworks including silver and plate as well as family portraits painted by well known artists. I could have spent several days just looking at everything. There was a disastrous fire in the central area of the house in November 1940 when the students at a city school had been billeted there to keep them away from the dangers of the war. Fortunately no one was injured. The fire started in a chimney that had not been cleaned properly and the whole of the dome collapsed causing a lot of damage. The dome has been rebuilt and some damage has been repaired but there are still rooms with no wall linings apart from partial coverings erected for the movie set.
I was interested to understand a little of the history of this illustrious family. I knew about Henry VIII and his wives I did not realise that Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard were cousins and the nieces of the scheming Thomas Howard, third Duke of Norfolk. His portrait was on the wall along with those of the builders of Castle Howard who lived two centuries later. It was all so interesting.
I spent a short time wandering around the magnificent grounds but it was not long enough as I had to take the bus back to Malton and take another one to Whitby. The bus travelled over moorland that was brown and purple. The area was made into a National Park some years ago so I was rather surprised to find a huge ugly building dominating a high point on the journey. It was surrounded by fences and warning notices telling people to keep out of this secret military area. It was no secret that it was there as I learned later that it was something to do with radar tracking of missiles and was a relic of the Cold War.
It was late in the day by the time I arrived at the historic town of Whitby at the mouth of the Esk River. The old town had the familiar crooked houses and cobbled streets. On the headland above it stands the ruined abbey of St Hilda. She was the daughter of the king of Northumbria and was known for her saintly character. After the abbey was sacked by the Vikings it was rebuilt and used until the Dissolution. There was a steep climb up to the abbey but the view was worth it.
I arrived too late to visit the Captain Cook Museum but I was able to watch the swing bridge in action. There are lots of small boats moored in the marina near the river mouth and the bridge (now 100 years old) is cranked open whenever the yachts with their tall masts need to pass. I ate fish and chips sitting on the sea wall. The screams of the seagulls and the smell of the sea made it a very memorable spot. I wandered around looking in shop windows. I saw many examples of jewellery featuring Whitby jet. I learned that jet is found near the surface of the land on the coast north of Whitby and it has been used for jewellery since Roman times. Jet is actually the fossilized remains of monkey puzzle trees.
Unfortunately there was no time to explore the Whitby of Bram Stoker. I know that the novel “Dracula” was written there. Once again I did not have enough time to fully appreciate Whitby but it is on my list of places to revisit.
While I was staying at the Heworth Guest House I met Paddy and James Neash, on holiday from Durham. When they discovered that I was on my way to Durham they offered me a lift in their car. They even came to my rescue later in the day when I carelessly left my mobile phone in their car. I greatly enjoyed their company for that part of the journey.
I met Maureen and Zoe in Durham and we went up to visit the cathedral together. It was a truly splendid building filled with art works and historical memorials. The tomb of the Venerable Bede in the Galilee Chapel was of particular interest. Bede was a monk living in one of the monasteries in Northumbria and although we have little detail about his life it is well known that he wrote an important treatise on the ecclesiastical history of Britain. As a result of his learning he was awarded the title of Doctor of the Church by the Pope ------ the only British born cleric to achieve this distinction. I know that Anselm of Canterbury was also a Doctor of the Church but he was born in Italy. Bede was dedicated to the Church by his family at a young age. He quickly showed exceptional talents so he became a deacon at a younger age than was usual and was ordained as a priest about the time he turned 30. He wrote extensively on a variety of topics. Although he died at Jarrow his remains were eventually interred at Durham and even there he was not allowed to rest in peace as the grave was desecrated around the time of the Dissolution.
I did not have much time in the cathedral as there was to be a service and sight seers are discouraged from hanging around at such times. Maureen and Zoe and I met some other friends for an early supper then we took the train back to Bishopbriggs where I stayed the night.
On 14 August it was Maureen’s birthday and she had invited some of her women friends around to do craft work together. We had a great time with lots of chatting in between cutting and pasting. The women came from different backgrounds but we were able to work on our individual projects and each of us produced a small booklet by mid afternoon. Over bowls of soup and cups of tea we got to know each other better and it was a most creative way of meeting other people. I hope to try this once I get home.
It was raining when I arrived in Edinburgh on 14 August. I took a taxi to the home of Olwyn Alexander in Woodburn Terrace. Although it was not far away it was too far to carry a suitcase in the rain. Olwyn lives in a top floor apartment with two handsome cats called Pearl and Muffin. Olwyn was very hospitable and the cats were talkative so we all got along well.
I met Olwyn and her husband when he swapped jobs with some Thames friends. I have kept in touch with Olwyn since the New Zealand visit in 1990/91 and visited her several times when I have been in this part of the world. This is the first time I have stayed with her in Woodburn Terrace. We had a lot to catch up on and we shared our news over many hours during the next few days.
I went to the opening performance of the Edinburgh Festival at the Ussher Hall that night. The hall was packed to hear Handel’s “Judas Maccabeus”. I was familiar with the Bible story of the heroic general who led the children of Israel to a mighty victory but I had not realised the Scottish connection. Handel wrote the cantata when he was resident in London in 1745/46 and the libretto was dedicated ( in the most effusive language) to the Duke of Cumberland who led the English army at Culloden. Audiences in Handel’s time would have quickly picked up the political agenda behind the work especially with choruses like the now familiar “Hail the Conquering Hero Comes”. I gather that the idea of performing this particular work as the opening for the Festival was not greeted with universal acclaim in Scotland. Despite this there was an enthusiastic response form the audience that included such dignitaries as the Lord Provost and the Governor of Victoria along with their respective wives. I thought it was a wonderful evening with excellent performances from choir orchestra and soloists.
The following day Olwyn and I went to the National Gallery to see an exhibition of art work titled “The Discovery of Spain” featuring paintings by Spanish and Scottish artists from Goya to Picasso and from John Lewis to John Armstrong. The Scots were those who spent a lot of time in Spain and were inspired by the people and the landscapes. Later artists from both sides of the Atlantic were inspired by the horrors of the Spanish Civil War. I will try to see the exhibition again as there were so many marvellous works that I could hardly take it all in. I also went to see some charcoal drawings collected by a Swiss businessman. Many of these drawings from Raphael to Renoir showed the most extraordinary delicacy and I was amazed at the skills of the artists.
On Sunday afternoon Olwyn and I went to an organ recital at St Mary’s Church where we feasted our ears on the music and our eyes on an exhibition of quilts. Olwyn is also a quilt maker so we had a lot to admire and to discuss as we examined the work of the unknown fabric artists. Olwyn was attending a talk at the Edinburgh Book festival so I accompanied her to Charlotte Square and told her about the Baha’I connection with that address. The Book Festival venue was very crowded. We had a coffee and sandwich together as we watched people buying books and queuing for different events. Last time I was in Edinburgh I spent a lot of money at the Book Festival but this time I have no plan to hear any speakers and especially I am not planning to buy any books.
While I was in Edinburgh I was able to attend other Festival performances at different venues. One was called Diaspora at the Edinburgh Playhouse and it featured the Chinese Orchestra from Singapore and used music, movies and actors to convey stories of Vietnamese people scattered to the four winds by warfare that disrupted their society. I had expected the show to be about the Scottish diaspora but many of the lessons are the same the world over as people struggle with the sense of loss and loneliness as they are uprooted from their homes. That same theme was explored in “Birdmen of St Kilda” that I attended at the Festival Theatre on Sunday night.
I knew a little about the people of St Kilda who lived on an isolated island for generations but had to be taken off the island about 1928 as there were not enough young men to do the necessary work. The story resonated with the experience of the Pitcairn Islanders. The performance involved a multi media presentation showing modern and historic movie footage about the island way of life. The plot was a little disjointed but emphasised the difficulties of life in that spot and the sadness of the people as they had to leave their ancestral home. A soloist sang the most haunting melodies in Gaelic and some of the dialogue was in French but I am not sure why that language was chosen. I am sure that I would feel sadness and loss if I were to be torn away from New Zealand.
This year is the 63rd Edinburgh Festival and the second time I have been able to attend some events. This year I am concentrating more on theatre rather than opera. I was a little disappointed that the programme included mainly concert performances of operas so I am putting my efforts elsewhere. I made bookings for ten events including Lieder, Oratorios, Theatre, Opera and a puppet show. I usually travelled over to Edinburgh by train during the afternoon returning the same night and arriving late at Barbara’s place. I was able to read on the train and relax on the way home.
We went over together in Barbara’s car on 23 August and met her colleague John and his partner Sheila for a meal at David Bann’s vegetarian restaurant in St Mary’s Street before attending different events. On that night I went back to the Ussher Hall for a sparkling performance by Bryn Terfel of song cycles by English composers such as Vaughan Williams and Roger Quilter (together with one Schuman cycle sung in German) followed by a bracket of Celtic songs where the audience was encouraged to join in. We sang a bit unsteadily “…. The sun shines Bright on Loch Lomond……’ and our efforts were not deemed satisfactory. After a joke about his recent tour to New Zealand he had us all stand for a lusty chorus of “Cockles and Mussels alive alive oh”. It was a terrific night and a wonderful example of Terfel’s sense of humour and artistic versatility. I hear that he has been invited by the Met to perform in a “Ring” next year.
Edinburgh is a gracious city with its skyline dominated by the Castle. There are different views of this monument from around the city. The castle is one of the first things that a visitor sees on emerging from Waverley Station. Unfortunately the next thing confronting visitors is the road works in the main streets of Edinburgh. Tramlines are being installed and the disruption to traffic is enormous. Large areas are closed to buses and cars and pedestrians are being crowded on to relatively narrow pavements already inhabited by advertising hoardings and baby carriages.
The unquenchable Festival spirit is still alive and well in Edinburgh. Pipers may be seen busking on corners and the fringe festival in full swing involved lots of enthusiastic young people dressed up as ghosts and hangmen. They were always giving handbills to passersby advertising such events as plays and comedy events as well as an endless array of other attractions.
I have been spending spare time in Edinburgh at the Book Festival in Charlotte Square. So far I have managed not to buy any books as there will be a big problem getting them home to New Zealand. The Arts Festival and the Book Festival are not the only attractions in Edinburgh. Apart from all the places of historic and cultural interest there are other kinds of festivals happening including a Festival of Peace and Spirituality at St John’s Church on Lothian Road. I was able to make a visit there as well during my spare time. In the church yard there was a tent village where handicrafts were being sold. A coffee bar was operating from the basement. I saw a Japanese Tea Ceremony inside the Church
Amongst the theatrical presentations that I attended at the Arts festival was a play called “The Last Witch” by Rona Munro, one of Scotland’s leading playwrites. The play was specially commissioned by the Festival and I saw it at the Royal Lyceum Theatre which backs on to the Ussher Hall. The Royal Lyceum is a beautiful venue with a chandelier and a ceiling pained with gold stars. The cheerful painted interior made a marked contrast with the dark subject matter of the play.
Over the years the term “witch hunt” has come to refer to a moral panic over political matters notably during the McCarthy era in USA. The play however was set in 1727 when a woman called Janet Horne was burned alive because she was seen as a witch. There was no trial as such and the usual legal procedures were not followed. The accusation was made that she has caused a neighbour’s cow to sicken and die because of a spell that she was supposed to have cast. The play was really about small town prejudices and fears and so was similar to the themes of the Arthur Miller play about Salem. It is truly horrifying to think that executions of alleged witches continued in Europe until the 1780s.
The play was very thought provoking and reminded me yet again of the importance of our legal protections. Even though the law and the courts do not get things right 100% of the time at least there are procedures that are meant to protect accused people when the various parts of the system are allowed to work properly.
I attended a performance in Italian of an opera by Claudio Monteverdi in the King’s Theatre, another beautifully preserved theatre. The opera was “Il Ritorno d’Ulisse in Patria” and it was performed by puppets. An orchestra of traditional instruments (lutes, viols and a harp) sat on stage and the puppets were wheeled on and off the stage on trolleys. Singers stood next to the puppets and sang the arias while the puppeteers (sometimes two to a puppet) manipulated arms and legs. Although it sounds clumsy I found that the expressions on the faces of the puppeteers showed their complete engagement in what was going on. The effect was a heightened awareness of the “body language of the puppets”. The well known story received even more emotional intensity from the presence of a screen at the back of the stage where views of scenery and patterns of leaves and flowers were projected according to the action. For instance when Ulysses was journeying home a singer walked across the back of the stage holding a cut out outline of a chariot pulled by horses so that the black silhouette was superimposed on a speeded up movie of boiling clouds. It was very effective and the evening for me was one of the two most outstanding events of my attendance at the Festival.
The other outstanding event was the fully staged production of “Admeto” by Handel. The opera was sung in Italian with English sur titles. The characters all wore Japanese kimonos. The samurai code of honour worked well with the story of a wife who sacrificed her life in order to save her husband. The story itself was the usual fluff including cross dressing and mistaken identities along with a happy ending. The minimalist sets created atmosphere using light and colour. The orchestra consisted of modern and traditional instruments such as lutes and viols as well as baroque oboes and horns.
Over the weekend of 29/30 August Barbara and I stayed the night with Olwyn in Edinburgh. The cats acted pleased to see me again but we did not get a lot of time together. We arrived on Saturday afternoon and Olwyn went out to meet her friends for dinner while Barbara and I had a quick meal at the Mother India café in Infirmary Road near the Festival Theatre before meeting John and Sheila at the performance of ‘Admeto’.
On Sunday it was Barbara’s birthday so we went out for a long slow lunch with Olwyn. On the way to the restaurant we called in to visit the Edinburgh Mosque where we were given a tour of the building and we spent some time looking at the most informative display of information about Islam. It transpired that Olwyn had her birthday the day before so we spent a lot of time comparing notes about our NZ childhood experiences. As it happened we were the only diners at the restaurant that lunchtime. The food and service were excellent and we did a lot of laughing and talking. After the lunch we went back to the National Gallery to see the Jean Bonna collection of drawings.
Later that evening we all went back to the Ussher Hall for a concert performance of “Acis and Galatea” by Handel. The music was beautiful and the performance was sensitive. The sad tale of a nymph who loved and lost was rather light but still was well received by the audience. That was my final festival event for the season
Barbara and I have done quite a bit of entertaining over the last few weeks. One Saturday Kirsteen and Jane came for lunch and on another occasion John and Sheila joined us for dinner. These were occasions for us to show off our culinary skills as well as opportunities for much discussion about art and literature
A special entertaining evening was when Dale and Hillary came for dinner. We discussed Barbara’s recent Wagner experience in Bayreuth and Dale’s at Covent Garden. Hillary enjoyed a Ring in Glasgow last year and my last one was in Erl in 2007. We discussed the different productions with great enthusiasm.
Barbara was able to show us some photos to illustrate the sets used in the Bayreuth production and she was very enthusiastic about some of the ideas that were new. The orchestra was conducted by Christian Thielemann and the production by Tankred Dorst. She was so enthusiastic about both of them that I have resolved to look out for their work in future.
Dale saw a different production which had a few difficulties because of lack of rehearsal time. The Mariinsky Orchestra was conducted by Valery Gergiev and Dale had no complaints about them.
It was really interesting and exciting to see how each production added to our understanding of the Ring and I am determined to see it again when the opportunity should be offered
I am leaving on 31 August to walk for a month in Spain. I will be following the ancient Camino Frances route from The Pyranees to Santiago on the Atlantic Coast. I expect to arrive back in Glasgow on 6 October. I do not expect that there will be any opportunity to update the blog along the way but I will take lots of photos and upload these when I arrive back in Glasgow.
From the Middle Ages the pilgrims used many different routes across Spain to Santiago depending on the place from which they began their journey. The purpose of those pilgrims was to venerate St James, the patron saint of Spain. My purpose is to see the countryside and to get to know the culture and some of the history of the area. There is an extensive prehistory but I expect to visit churches and castles and any other places of historical and cultural interest. There will be a sporting element in my journey as I expect to put myself outside my usual comfort zone and to take the risk of extending my physical fitness. In addition I am hoping to get away from the workaday world of TV, telephone and computer in order to find a direction for my future.
I flew from Bristol to Biarritz then took a bus to Bayonne Railway Station. At the bus stop I met two couples from Plymouth. Lydia and Chris compared notes with Jack and Mary about travel and their plans for the Camino. Another English speaker was a young man called John who was born in Somerset but went out to NZ with his parents while he was a child. He was wearing the most beautiful piece of greenstone that clearly indicated his ties to NZ. He did not have to tell me that he had spent time there. John is on a gap year and thinks he will return to NZ to attend university. His father is still working as an engineer on the Cobb River hydro electric project. John attended High School in Golden Bay. We waited for the train together and chatted about our homes and our hopes for the future.
The train wound its way through beautiful mountain scenery to St Jean. We walked from the station to the pilgrim centre where we received a warm welcome. After registering and receiving a pilgrim’s credential, I went to find a place to stay. The albergue was full so I found a bed in the Esponda Hostal for E10.25. There were 3 languages being spoken in the bunkroom where I slept. I went shopping to find something for breakfast. I resisted the chocolaterie and chose a baguette, ham and tomato with an orange. I saw kiwifruit from NZ in the supermercado.
I went back to the pilgrim centre and read the noticeboard. According to the statistics over 23,000 had obtained the credential in the year to 9/8/09. This did not seem like many but my impression was that St Jean was thronged with pilgrims. I wandered along a cobbled street and saw handmade Basque lace for sale but resisted the temptation. I walked over a stone bridge and saw trout swimming in the river below. I ate a pilgrim meal in a restaurant called Chez Edouard. There was soup, lamb pasta lettuce and Basque gateau. A woman with a dog seated at the next table wished me happiness.
I was feeling nervous about my ability to walk over the Pyranees but there was no backing out now. I chose the Valcarlos route as I hoped that the climb would not be too steep. In fact the road went uphill for hours and the pretty countryside did not compensate for the feeling of exhaustion.
I met an angel on the road. His name was Alex and he got off his bicycle and walked beside me. At his suggestion we loaded my pack on to his carrier and we both pushed the bike up the hill and over the top to Roncesvalles. Alex was German and we met another man from Germany who did not speak much English. They talked to each other and I puffed along behind them not following much of the conversation.
At the summit we were surrounded by low clouds so there was not view to enjoy. The monument to Rondal had been daubed with graffiti. Near the summit there was a museum dedicated to the birds of that area. It was interesting but I was too tired to take it in properly
Our little convoy reached Roncesvalles about 6 pm. I stayed in the municipal hostel with 100 bunk beds in one room. Alex and his cycle were sent elsewhere. I was exhausted and just wanted to sleep but I went out to a restaurant across the square for a pilgrim meal. I sat with the two English couples and we ate pasta followed by grilled trout and potato. For dessert there was a small pot of plain yoghurt.
Alex wanted to chat after dinner but I was too tired. It was his 23rd birthday and afterwards I felt rather mean that I accepted his help but was not willing to keep him company.
I was too tired to be disturbed by the number of people crammed into the hostel. When I woke up I was stiff from carrying the pack even though I did not have it on my back all day. I did not see Alex who must have left earlier than I did. It was another long day but not so much climbing. I sat down next to a young couple and shared some dried fruit with them. He was Simon from Switzerland and she was Barby from the Czech Republic. I continued on and met a couple of women from Christchurch. They gave me some arnica for stiffness. They were also angels
Before reaching Larrasoana I had to walk through an ugly industrial area. There were convoys of trucks moving spoil from one side of the site to the other. I waved to one of the truck drivers and he stopped and spoke to me in Spanish. Although I did not understand a word I did see that he was offering me his bottle of chilled water which I gratefully accepted. He admonished me to be careful walking down the long flight of steps at the far end of the site. I was very touched by his action. Surely he was another angel and his kindness reached me across the language barrier.
I successfully negotiated the steps and arrived in Larrasoana too late to get a place in the albergue. Simon and Barbie turned out to be angels as well because as I was wandering around looking for a place to stay I found that they were watching out for me. They had booked a place for me at a pension in a side street. E10
I was tired again so I went to sleep for an hour then Barbie and Simon encouraged me to go out with them to have a meal at the home of a local Italian woman who cooked for the pilgrims. We had soup, steak and potatoes then fruit salad. A Dutch pilgrim began to play the piano and we all sang. The hostess produced a bottle of Dewars and I think we would have gone on all night were it not for the fear of being locked out of the pension.
We breakfasted with the same Italian woman then set out separately for the next part of the journey. It was not such a hard day but I managed to fall down some steps. I avoided twisting my ankle because of the good boots that I was wearing. I should have listened more carefully to the warning given by the truck driver.
The path was mostly flat passing through woodland where birch and pine trees grew. Brown leaves carpeted the path and the astringent smell of the pine trees filled the air. I saw eagles flying and met people on the road that I recognized from previous stops.
It is usual to get a stamp in my pilgrim’s credential at each stop but I was late arriving at the pension last night. At Trinidad de Arre I stopped at a building decked with flags. It was the local council office so on an impulse I went inside. The first person I saw was a police officer sitting at a desk wearing side arms. I asked him in English if he would stamp my credential but he did not understand what I was saying. I showed him the document and suddenly he was all smiles and happy to put a police stamp on it. We shook hands and he wished me “Buon Camino”.
Trinidad de Arre is on the outskirts of Pamplona and the next part of the Way went through endless suburbs. It was marked with yellow arrows but these had to compete with advertising billboards and all kinds of other distractions. People were endlessly kind and patient in helping me to find the right road. At one point I was standing at an intersection looking one way then the other and a motorist wound down the window and pointed out where I should be going.
I sat down to rest in a little garden area and saw a local man leaving his work to guide Simon and Barbie across the busy highway to the right road. We shared a snack together then carried on to the centre of Pamplona. We bought some food and found a park where we relaxed for an hour before carrying on to the next town.
I could have stayed the night at Pamplona but it was so busy after the peace and quiet of the countryside. I did not look around the town either and on reflection this was a mistake. There is no use doing a walking tour if the timetable is too rigid to allow me to see the important historical and cultural sites. I did not see the bull ring, the Hemingway pub or the cathedral. I think that it will be important for my future to take time to smell the flowers.
Simon and Barbie went on ahead and I followed slowly past the university where I could have asked for another stamp but instead I carried on without stopping. At Cizur Menor the first albergue was full so I found a place at the next one run by the Roncal family. I sat in the sunny garden as my laundry was whizzing around in the machine chatting to Kate and Sue from Christchurch and writing up my notes. Barbie and Simon were at the same albergue so I chatted to them also. There was a noisy fiesta going on across the road. Some of the pilgrims were up all night taking part in the dancing
Simon took me to dinner at the local restaurant and Barbie joined us once she had cleared her emails. The place was really jumping with local cultural dancers and drinkers. I tried to go to bed at a sensible time but there were two chiming clocks in the town and they clanged every 15 minutes all night. The trouble was that they were 5 minutes apart in time and in different keys.
The road took me uphill to the top of a ridge lined with windmills. There are wonderful views from the top where the windmills whirred and a procession of cut out figures plodded on towards Santiago. A man with a white van was selling hot drinks and snacks
On the way up the hill I met Sue from Toronto and after a rest we carried on together. Sue gave me one of her walking sticks and I found walking much easier since then. We stopped for a snack at the bottom of the hill then we spread out as we went towards Puente la Reina.
I considered taking a detour to see the round church at Eunate but it would have added extra km to my day and I needed to conserve my energy. Later I met a man who made the side trip. He reassured me that although the building was very beautiful it was not an essential ingredient in the Camino.
There are three albergues in Puente la Reina. I was hoping to stay in the centre of town so I passed the first one. The albergue in the middle of the town was full so I carried on to the purpose built facility at the end of the town. Santiago Apostol is part of a chain of purpose built places for pilgrims. It had all facilities. I chose a lower level bunk on the outside edge of a group of bunks. Bed and evening meal came to E28 with a further E3.50 for breakfast. I was able to chat with a flight attendant called Gary from Austria as well as with Jack and Mary from Plymouth.
As I passed through the old town I found that there was a bike convention happening in the square. Many gleaming motor cycles were lined up and members of the public were admiring them. The riders were proudly displaying the advantages of their particular model. I was not paying much attention to the talking as I cannot speak Spanish. I saw that the motorcycles came in all shapes and sizes no doubt to suit different pockets. As I was admiring the hogs a man asked me if I was thinking of buying one. I told him no and we both laughed at the idea of me as the leader of the pack.
I met a man from Germany who remembered me with great affection from a previous conversation. Back at the albergue I had a long talk with Kelly, a lady lawyer from Laredo. A bright moon emerged and the night was transfigured. I am feeling very grateful for community and for the angels that I have met along the way.
It was a big blue sky day. I walked slowly enjoying the views of vineyards and small towns perched on hill tops. There was not much shelter but it was one of those days when I felt grateful to be alive. The pack felt lighter and the belt was tighter so all is going well with the world.
In bright sunlight I stopped at a hilltop village called Cirauqui where I had a soft drink and a snack as other walkers came and went. I got a stamp in a tunnel joining the square with a road out of town. I shared dried fruit with other walkers and tried to communicate with people beyond the language barrier.
The path continued along a Roman road then turned downhill next to the autopista. I wondered if the modern road would still be in use in 2000 years time. I came to a place where the walkers went under a modern road and I met a young woman offering fresh fruit and cool drinks in return for a donation. I sat and talked to her for a while. The melon was delicious and she made me a sandwich with home baked bread. It was the best tasting bread and the most juicy tomatoes
I arrived at a little town called Lorca. The albergue was opposite a small bar so I stopped for a soft drink and met a girl called Alex from Orange County California. She was aged 18 years and we walked on together to Estella. It was about 8 km to Estella and it was just a bit too far. I should have stopped at Lorca before I became so tired that my knees hurt and my blisters started weeping.
I reflected about the need to lighten my pack. The heaviest item in the pack is the NZ down filled sleeping bag. I consulted with Alex about what to do. She is a Spanish speaker so she offered to help. We arrived too late to find a place in the albergue so we checked into a small hotel called San Andres overlooking Santiago Plaza with its ancient fountain.
As I surveyed my blisters I realized that it is crazy for me to try to keep up with the guide book. I am not taking part in a competition and I am not bound to follow exactly the distances set out in the guide book. Yesterday I walked over 21 km in the heat. It is better to start early as many of the others are doing and stop early so that I am not trying to overdo things in the middle of the day. I have noticed how the local people stop what they are doing and go home in the middle of the day. Surely I should be resting somewhere as well. I need to adapt to the conditions.
With the help of Alex speaking Spanish I bought a new lightweight sleeping bag (600 gr) and posted the other one weighing almost 2kgs back to Barbara. I wrote postcards to the folks at home. Alex bought some new sandals. We had morning tea in a local bakery with a couple from Prague. He was Hannes born in Garmish southern Germany and Petra was born in the Czech Republic.
Alex and I went back to our hotel room and had a picnic lunch sitting on our beds. I am pleased that I gave my feet a rest today. We had a pilgrim meal in a small restaurant near the albergue.
There was a lot to see in the ancient town of Estella. The town was built on the bank of the River Ega and has a turbulent history due to the influx of pilgrims and other foreigners. A special borough for the French pilgrims founded in 1090 was referred to as L’Izarra (Basque for star) and this became Estella (Spanish for star). The Camino in this area is known as Via Lactea or the way of the stars (Milky Way). The Jewish community was expelled in 1266
It was another hot night and I did not sleep well. As is the custom in Spain people gathered outside in the cool of the evening to chat and to play with the children. Alex and I shared a room again but she could not sleep and went outside and walked around for most of the night.
The weatherman predicted a heatwave for today. We are to expect 35C. Alex and I decided to walk only a short distance ------ 10 km to Villamayor de Monjardin. We walked through woodland on a natural path to the famous wine fountain at Irache. A Benedictine Monastery was founded there in the 10th century but it was closed in 1985 due to a lack of vocations. The building is now a museum but it was closed as I passed. The wine fountain (provided by the generosity of Bodegas Irache) also dispenses water which was just right for me. There is a wine museum across the road but I did not visit there either preferring to carry on slowly in the company of Alex and Susan from Toronto. Susan decided to stay at Irache so Alex and I went with her to see the accommodation. We lunched together at the cafeteria then carried on uphill to Monjardin.
There were magnificent views from the little village. I arrived at the parish albergue just as the last place was allocated to Coralie from Reunion Island in the Indian Ocean. She surrendered her place to me and I squeezed in between two French speaking couples. I was able to hang out my laundry behind the church where I admired the view again.
Alex and Coralie found places in the albergue run by a Dutch Confraternity and we met on the terrace of the local bar. There was a good view out towards to countryside and up to the old ruined castle (Castillo de San Esteban). On the terrace was a bust of King Sanchez Garce of Pamplona 905-925 and he seemed to be enjoying the conversation as well. I had a long discussion with David (teacher from England) and Don a talker from Ireland. We were joined by an older American couple (Otis and Natalie aged 75 and 73) on their 3rd Camino in four years. They told me that the Camino had changed their lives and they are now planning to buy a property along the route somewhere and turn it into a hostal so that they can give something back.
A large group sat down for the pilgrim meal served in the bar. The landlady had a marvelous sense of humour and had all the Spanish people rolling about but I could not understand what was going on. We had Russian salad followed by lamb and potato stew and a pot of plain yoghurt for E9. After the meal we resumed our seats on the terrace to watch the day ending peacefully.
The conversation ranged over Hemingway (must re read some of his stories) and the Spanish Civil War (must read the Anthony Beevor book). We tiptoed around political minefields as the stars came out and it was time to go back to the albergue to sleep
The parish albergue provided a plastic covered sleeping platform that rustled as people turned over. It was hot due to lack of ventilation and noisy due to the snorers but at least I had a place to sleep inside.
People were up very early and it was impossible to sleep due to loud conversations before 6am when the lights were turned on. The hospitaleros served bread and jam and coffee for breakfast and I went outside to find Alex. Sunrise found us on the road and it was an easy day. We made Los Arcos in 3 hours (10 km). We sat in the square over coffee, lemonade and sandwiches greeting the other walkers as they passed. Finally we dragged ourselves away to Sansol then Torres del Rio. We stayed at a new private albergue (Casa Mari) with several rooms each with 6 bunks. There was plenty of hot water so I did laundry before going out to find a meal. This time it was mixed salad, pork chop and fries followed by a pot of fruit yoghurt (E10). I am finding that I miss green vegetables so whenever I get the chance I have a salad.
We were lucky enough to visit the 12th century church “Iglesia de Santo Sepulchro” as it is open only at restricted hours. The church is linked with the Knights Templar and the octagonal church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem. The lofty cupola with its cross ribbed vault forming an eight pointed star is emblematic of the Knights. The simple interior has a 13th century crucifix and has good acoustics although I did not feel inclined to burst into song there.
Later I sang at the albergue as the stars came out and the night covered the earth.
It seemed to take me a long time to get ready. Most people had left by the time I shouldered my pack and set out into the sunrise. Somehow I missed Alex so I walked alone for half the day. Sunrise at 7.45 found me out in the fields surrounded by grape vines and olive groves. Small birds sang as I stopped to drink from my water bottle.
When I reached Viana I found Don and David comfortably ensconced in a café so I joined them for Kas Limon then Alex arrived. We had coffee then a bocadillo with that lovely dried ham and we chatted for over an hour. Amazing how the time slips away.
We went into the church across the road “Iglesia Santa Maria” to admire the art work. I received a stamp on my credential. On the threshold was a plaque in honour of Cesare Borgia, the illegitimate son of Rodrigo Borgia (elected Pope Alexander VI in 1492). Cesare was appointed commander of the Papal armies. He patronized both Leonardo da Vinci who acted as his military architect and Machiavelli who helped him to form some of his political idealogy. When Pope Alexander VI died his successor banished Cesare to Spain where he was killed in the siege of Viana in 1507.
Viana as a border town seems always to have been a hot spot. The defensive walls are well preserved. The town soon gave way to vineyards and I stopped for a drink with Alex and Coralie near a hermitage where the Trinitarian nuns have in the past cared for the pilgrims. There was no sign of any carers at the picnic spot where we sat in the shade for a while. Coralie shared her chocolate. She found a laden fig tree behind the church and we ate the warm fruit as we continued toward Logrono.
On a downhill stretch of road I found an elderly woman with a stall under a couple of sun umbrellas. Her welcoming smile melted away tiredness. I sat in the shade and we tried to communicate without a common language. We need a universal auxiliary language right now. I had a soft drink. She put a stamp on my credential. I stepped away lightly after meeting her.
The road into Logrono passed through endless industrial suburbs and I became very tired as walking on paved paths is difficult. Once again Alex and I were too late to get a place in the albergue so we checked into a small hotel called the Numentina. We ate tapas in the square outside the cathedral E12.50 while we chatted with who ever came along.
Alex had her alarm clock set for 5.30 am but we both turned over and went back to sleep. We soon abandoned the idea of doing any walking. We had a leisurely breakfast (tortilla, coffee and pastry) in a small café near the square then visited the cathedral where I got another stamp in my credential. The cathedral had some beautiful art work including a painting attributed to Michaelangelo.
It was a relaxing morning when we did nothing very much. I bought a new watch strap for E7.50 then we queued for an hour and a half to get into the albergue. (E5) It was beautifully kept with a fountain playing in the garden and all the necessary facilities but lots of rules.
As we were checking in the hospitaleros were having a discussion in Spanish. Alex told me later that they were not impressed that we had already spent a night in Logrono. Despite their suspicions about our bona fides we were admitted. I went to sleep and Alex went out. Later I joined her at the café in the square listening to a man playing Fado music. It was a wonderful afternoon sitting in the shade with the music.
Logrono is the capital of the autonomous region of Rioja where the vineyards abound. The region is renowned for wine making. The people have been welcoming pilgrims since the 11th century. This was a way of ensuring the export of wines and the importing of stonemasons and other artists. The region is relatively small sandwiched between the mountains of Navarre and the highlands of the Meseta. The high Rioja is devoted mostly to wine making while the lower areas are used for vegetable gardens. It was such a rest for the eyes to see things growing in well ordered fields.
We ate at the Modern Café (opened in 1912) with well a preserved deco interior. E10 for lamb and fries salad and ice cream. Alex checked her emails. She has decided to leave the Camino and visit friends as it is her birthday on 14 September. I am not sure if I will see her again. She has been a helping angel and I will miss her company.
I am feeling very grateful for the angels I have met and the facilities along the way. Some days have been long and tiring but others have been easier but it is the act of walking and interacting with other people that is making this such a special experience.
I was up at 6.30 with most of the others at the albergue. I hugged Alex goodbye and hit the road at 7 am. I climbed up to Navarette where I had a good breakfast at Los Arcos café (tortilla sandwich and coffee) There followed an easy walk to a lake where I arrived at 8.30. I carried on through woodland to a place where a bearded man was giving apples to pilgrims. He gave me another stamp and I was able to eat as I walked along.
I passed by the cemetery where a wonderful carved gate guarded the entrance. According to the guide book that gate was once part of a now ruined pilgrims’ hospital nearby. It has been rescued and given a new home. The gate had many elaborate carvings including one scene of Roldan slaying the Muslim giant Ferragut with a well aimed stone. Roland liberated the town where Ferragut ruled and freed the captive Christian knights of Charlemagne’s army. The story reminiscent of David and Goliath has a powerful effect on the Camino and is referred to in a number of places. Later in the day I passed the spot where legend has it that Roldan prevailed over Ferragut.
I made good time and arrived at the San Saturnino albergue at 12.45. This was a very clean and comfortable place with hot water for laundry as well as for myself. There was a garden for relaxing and here I experienced a wonderful sense of well being. I am aware that I actually NEED very little in order to have a comfortable life. I hope to remember this lesson when I arrive home.
After a siesta I met two women from Adelaide SA, Sheryl and Marina. They are hurrying through the Camino on their way to Morocco. I met Margareta from Sweden who had fallen in love with a man she met on the Camino. Everyone has their stories. I am feeling a great kinship with the other walkers.
There was a good pilgrim meal at the only restaurant in town. For E14.50 I had seafood paella, entrecote fries followed by melon and ice cream. Service was relatively slow so there was plenty of time to chat to the two Australian women as well as to Margareta and Niels Purup from Denmark. Although the cost was higher that usual the food was a lot better than anything I have had recently.
I hit the road around 7.40 am hoping to reach Azofra (15 km) before the heat of the day. There was an amazing sunrise with a blood red disc peering angrily through the gloom. It was very overcast and definitely cooler. There was too much haze for good views but the path led me easily through vineyards with red earth and irrigation systems.
At Najera I stopped for a coffee then visited the church which was a treasure house of art and family history. Many of the nobles of Navarre are interred there. I spent well over an hour at this beautiful place looking at the cloister and garden. I was with a group that made a special visit upstairs to see the beautiful choir stalls carved with pilgrim motifs.
At Azofra I stayed in the purpose built municipal albergue where the dormitories were divided into cubicles for two beds not bunks. This seemed like great luxury. I spent some time relaxing in the garden before going out to find a meal at the local bar. A Spanish man with a donkey called Pepe arrived in the late afternoon. Pepe was interested in eating my T shirt. He was tied up for the night behind the albergue where I heard him braying from time to time.
I tried to visit the local church but it was locked so had an early dinner with Margareta.
The walk today was about 16 km and relatively easy.
The road wound through fertile fields until I came to a sign announcing a golf resort. There were no golfers and the town that had been built to cater for them was empty and silent. Weeds grew in the road way and there was nowhere to have a drink or something to eat. Sheryl and Marina passed me along the way and we agreed that there was something dismal about the ghost town of Ciruena
I arrived in Santo Domingo in the early afternoon and found a place at a hostel run by the Benedictine nuns. The building was rather run down but quite adequate for our needs. I shared a three bed room with Margareta and a man from Denmark called Niels Purup. Most of the other walkers had bunk beds.
Santo Domingo is an historic town situated at 550 km from Santiago. It has narrow winding streets and many interesting places to see. I visited the museum and the cathedral. St Dominic is venerated here because he effectively dedicated his life to improving the physical route for the pilgrims and was responsible for building many of the roads and bridges that I passed along the way. He was active in the 11th century so the work associated with him has been renewed a number of times but his spirit is still very much alive.
St Dominic was a giant among men. He was born in humble circumstances in Villamayor del Rio. It is said that he wa turned away from the monastery at San Millan because of his illiteracy. Despite this unpromising start to his life of service he built a pilgrim hospital (now the Parador) and a church which has evolved into a cathedral. The cathedral has been rebuilt and altered over the years and now combines a number of different architectural styles. It was originally consecrated in 12th century.
One of the more unlikely exhibits in the cathedral is a chicken coopat the rear of the church containing two live white fowl. Naturally there is a story behind this and it is one of the most endearing stories associated with the Way of St James. I am sure it has been embellished over the years as well.
Legend has it that a pilgrim couple and their son stayed at an inn in Santo Domingo on their way to Santiago. The innkeeper’s pretty daughter took a fancy to the handsome lad but he rebuffed her advances. Incensed by his attitude she hid a silver goblet in his backpack then reported him for theft. The innocent lad was caught and condemned to hang. Some accounts suggest that the parents continued on their way to Santiago oblivious of the fate of their son and on their way home they found him still hanging from the gallows but alive due to the intervention of Santo Domingo. They rushed to the sheriff’s house and found him just about to tuck into dinner. When he heard the news the sheriff retorted that the young man was about as alive as the cock and hen he was about to eat, whereupon the fowl stood up on the plate and began to crow loudly.
The miracle was not lost on the sheriff who left his meal and hurried to the gallows and cut down the poor youth who was given a full pardon. I was left to speculate about the fate of the foxy maiden.
In the cathedral a cock and a hen are always kept in the chicken coop. I was pleased to know that this is not a life sentence and they take turns with other white birds for this honour. There are so many miracles ascribed to the intervention of Santo Domingo that the town came to carry his name and also to be known as the Compostola of Rioja
Niels has decided to take the bus to Burgos. He has bad blisters and cannot carry on walking. Margareta and I set out at 7.30 am to walk about 20 km to Villamayor del Rio. It was an easy day through dry fields without much shelter. The path followed the main highway so we saw streams of heavy traffic. It was a rude awakening from the peace of the countryside
For some reason I was feeling queasy so we stopped at a small albergue about 100m from the road. There were only five walkers there for the night but we represented the world. We came from Estonia, Brazil, Spain, Sweden and New Zealand. It rained that night and because we were out in the country with no where to go the hospitalero cooked us a meal and we all went to bed early
Villamayor is in the autonomous region of Castilla y Leon. This sparsely populated area makes up over half of the Camino. Cereal crops mainly wheat are grown here with some grazing for sheep and goats on the hillier areas. The land is dry with the horizon broken by small villages that appear to be unaffected by the speed of modern life.
The ancient kingdom of Castile is well named for its many castles which were built to protect and promote the kingdom. This is very clear along the Camino route. Up until the discovery of the tomb of St James, Spain was dominated by the Moors. Fernando I established Castile in 1035 and the 1090s saw the legendary figure of El Cid turning the tide against the Moors from his base in Burgos. Castile was united with Leon under Fernando III some 200 years later. It was an uneasy union and some tensions still exist today.
After a rainy night I wore my water proof jacket all the way to Villafranca (17 km). The weather was cooler (12C) as I passed through the steep valley of Rio Tiron. After a visit to the church of Santa Maria in Belorado I continued to follow the way beside the N-120 through level open countryside with some shade provided by hedgerow and woodland.
Villafranca named for the Franks arriving as pilgrims and returning as artisans nestles at the foot of the Montes de Oca. The town has been welcoming pilgrims since the 9th century but now there is an ugly truck stop at the entrance to the town. Just after the truck stop the road narrows and an elbow with no footpath makes it a danger spot for walkers. There was a bar next to the truck stop and this was very busy as we passed
Margareta and I stayed at the municipal albergue which was quite full by the time I arrived. There was a map of the world on the wall so I was able to point out New Zealand to the hospitaleros. I was allocated a bunk in a room facing the rear of the building and I was glad of a respite from the rumble of heavy traffic.
There was a smart hotel across the road. We had a meal there in a luxurious dark paneled dining room with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
There was fog covering the town in the morning. While it was still dark I went to the bar next to the truck stop for a coffee and croissant. The place was quite full and I was amazed to see truckies throwing back hard liquor before 8 am. I assume that they got into their trucks and drove off afterwards but I was not game to wait around to see what was going to happen. I was glad to negotiate the sharp elbow in the main street safely and to take the uphill path past the church and away from the town.
The road continued uphill to San Juan de Ortega. Fog obscured the view but I saw heather blooming in profusion and soon the path entered pine forest. The astringent smell of pine trees was very refreshing and I soon realized that logging was in progress. Huge logging trucks and lifting equipment roared along forest paths that happily did not intersect with the footpath very often. I passed stacks of logs as the pine forest gave way to fields. I came around a corner and found some men loading logs on to a transporter. Having no wish to end up under a log I waited until they waved me on.
I reached the top of the hill while the fog was still clinging to the trees. At 1020 m I found a stark monument to those who fell during the Spanish Civil War. I still do not know much about that turbulent period and I resolved to read the book by Anthony Beevor as well as some Hemingway.
I stopped at San Juan de Ortega to visit the chapel of San Nicolas de Barri. San Juan was a disciple of Santo Domingo and like his mentor became known for his great works to serve the pilgrims to Santiago. He built bridges, hospitals, churches and hostels throughout the region. The area was wild and isolated and infested with bandits and there were many dangers for the pilgrims. Here in 1150 San Juan founded an Augustinian monastery. The chapel was dedicated to San Nicolas who allegedly saved San Juan form drowning as he was returning from a pilgrimage to the Holy Land and is constructed in such a way that at each equinox the rays of the setting sun strike the Virgin Mary in the scene of the annunciation.
Unfortunately I was not there at the right time to see this biennial miracle of celestial light linked to San Juan’s miraculous powers in restoring fertility. The barren Queen Isabel of Castile visited in 1477 and soon after conceived a child. She embellished the church and I was able to marvel at the beautiful stonework surrounded by a wrought iron barrier.
Close by there was a small café where I drank lemonade and enjoyed some watery sunshine. I carried on to Atapuerca where I was allocated a bed rather than a bunk in a new albergue. I hung out my laundry then joined a tour to the archeological site.
As soon as we got out of the bus it started to rain. Sadly the commentary was all in Spanish so I did not get much information apart from what I could see and understand. The site is about 3 km off the walking route and was discovered when a rail link to nearby coal mines was under under construction. The prehistoric caves at Atapuerca were declared a UNESCO World Heritage site in 2000 due to the discovery there of the earliest human remains in Europe dating back 1,000,000 years. The site is still being excavated but already it has provided an exceptional record of the way of life of the earliest human communities.
It was very cold in the rain and I needed a substantial meal to control my shivering. A large number of walkers ate at the restaurant around the corner from the albergue. I left my sopping laundry out all night. It was still very wet in the morning.
It was still cold and wet in the morning so I took a bus into Burgos for E 1.31. Several other walkers had the same idea and we waited outside in the cold together until the bus arrived. Once we arrived in the central bus station we crossed the bridge to the square outside the cathedral then climbed the steps to the new municipal albergue. I used the drier for my wet clothing and checked my emails while I waited. I met Coralie in the kitchen and she was obviously unwell. She was wearing a mask and was careful not to get too close to anyone else.
The albergue was well equipped with pullout shelving for boots and two washing machines and two driers. Although there was only one toilet per floor there were plenty of showers and lots of hot water. Accommodation was arranged in bunk beds, two to a cubicle. The hospitaleros were all volunteers rostered for 24 hours at a time one day in 15. They created a very welcoming and happy atmosphere.
I visited the historic cathedral and enjoyed the beautiful artwork. The history of the area is depicted in various ways in the cathedral and I found myself thinking of the ancestral houses of the Maori people in New Zealand. I thought about the ever advancing civilization and wondered where are the art works being created today that will survive for hundreds of years like the ones in the cathedral.
Amongst the many outstanding chapels (there are 21) are St John and St James behind the high altar with a statue of St James the Moor-slayer (Santiago Matamoros). The north door is now permanently closed but may be approached by the beautiful Renaissance Golden Staircase designed by Diego de Siloe. At the transept crossing directly underneath the huge star lantern at the heart of the cathedral lie El Cid and his wife Jimena.
The city of Burgos is full of wonderful monuments and sights. It is sometimes referred to as the Gothic capital of Spain. It was the seat of Franco’s government until 1938 perhaps an indication of its nationalist and establishment leanings. Although the city has a population of 200,000 it seems unable to shake off its image of religious austerity. It was named after its heavy defensive town towers (burgos) and was the home of the warlord El Cid.
Count Rodrigo Diaz de Vivar was better known as El Cid, a Muslim title of respect was born in Burgos in 1040. The camino passes by the site of his house at Arco de San Martin. On the death of Ferdinand I the kingdom was divided between the monarch’s five children. The eldest son Sancho thought that the kingdom should have passed intact into his hands so he set about recovering it from his siblings and the Moors. He appointed El Cid as the commander in chief of all his forces. When Sancho was killed trying to recover the town of Zamora from his sister Urraca the surviving brother, Alfonso VI, both hated and feared El Cid. Alfonso exiled El Cid twice and in between married him off to his niece Jimena. El Cid died in Valencia in 1099 having recovered the city from the Moors. His body and that of his trusty horse Babieca were eventually reinterred in the monastery of San Pedro de Cardena and then El Cid and his wife were reinterred in the cathedral.
I have received several text messages from Leonie and I have decided to wait for her and Anne in Burgos. Margareta wanted to carry on so I accompanied her to the Arco de San Martin where we said our goodbyes. She has been excellent company and I think we will miss each other.
I found a café by the river for breakfast and chatted to the walkers who came by. One of these was a Frenchman called Andres with his hunting dog, Horace. I had met them before on the road but now they were on their way home. Andres had been knocked down by a car and wore his arm in a sling. He was suffering from a broken arm and a dislocated shoulder. Happily Horace was not injured. This was a warning to be careful
I met Leonie and Anne at the bus station. Anne needed to go to the hospital because her feet were so painful. I checked us all into the Conde de Miranda Hotel next to the bus station. My room was very comfortable (E40) and I enjoyed the luxury of a long hot shower.
I visited the museum to see the artifacts recovered from Atapuerca but the commentary in Spanish was not very informative. I had the chance to tell the friendly security guard that I came from New Zealand. Anne rested in her room as she has been told to keep off her feet for two days. Leonie and I attended the pilgrim mass which is an unfamiliar experience for me. Leonie had to explain what was going on.
I can see that the days are slipping by and if I do not pick up my feet I will not arrive in Santiago in time for my flight to Stansted on 5 October. After discussing the situation with Leonie I have decided to take a bus trip as far as Leon. This will allow me to make up some time and I think it will also allow me to avoid the Meseta area which is said to be very arid and not so interesting for walking.
I went to mass in the cathedral while Leonie and Anne queued for places in the albergue. They were not allowed to stay there as they had travelled by bus to Burgos. They were able to find a bed in a privately run albergue on the other side of the cathedral
I was quite moved by the ceremonies associated with the mass. There were 4 priests and a bishop as well as choir boys in a beautiful chapel. The place was full. This is a testimony to the importance of religion in the lives of people today. It was not just the elderly who were participating but also quite young people. I watched as a family including a young girl went to the altar rail to receive communion. The priest bent down and spoke to her (I suppose that he was checking that she had been confirmed) then he administered the sacrament. The music was heavenly.
Anne rested at the albergue while Leonie and I rode around the town on the tourist train. We went up to the ruined Castillo and enjoyed the view over the city and towards the hills where I should have been walking.
At last it was time to go to the bus station where I caught the bus to Leon. Coralie sat next to me and we had time for a good chat about our lives in different parts of the world. We arrived at the Leon bus station and walked to find somewhere to stay. We found places at the Benedictine albergue. I met an Australian woman of Macedonian heritage. Her name was Lily and we had dinner together and I learned a lot of interesting things about her family history.
After dinner we attended the Pilgrim blessing at the Benedictine Convent. A group of us were met at the albergue by a diminutive but sprightly nun who conducted us to the parlour at the convent. She then explained the procedure for the service and taught us to sing the responses. We each had a book setting out the order of service in a range of different languages.
At last it was time to file quietly into the chapel. We occupied seats in the body of the chapel while about 20 nuns of different ages and ethnic backgrounds sat in the choir stalls. A simple dignified service followed and the nuns left except for the Mother Abbess and a younger nun wearing a white veil. I suppose that she was a novice.
The sweet faced Mother Abbess spoke to us in Spanish and her words were translated into English and German by the novice.
I was moved by the dignity of the service and the simplicity of the beautiful chapel. So many European churches seem to be dark and heavily ornamented but this place had light coloured walls and very few images. Although the chapel was small it was well filled with pilgrims and nuns. I wondered how often it was filled up apart from the blessing services.
Leon was once a Roman military garrison and home to the VIIth Legion, hence the name. It became the capital of the old kingdoms of Asturia and Leon. It became a battleground on many occasions as the armies of Visigoths, Moors and Christians swept through the area. I did not allow myself enough time to look at the Roman remains which now support the medieval walls. I did not look out for the Renaissance Basilica or even the Gaudi “Casa de Botines” as I left town on a cold morning.
The route out of Leon was confusing and I walked a long way through suburbs. A large clock and weather display showed the temperature was 7C. I passed through the Plaza San Marcos dominated by a Plasteresque building that was once a monastery dedicated to St Mark. It was once a modest pilgrim hospital then it became the headquarters of the Knights of Santiago which was formed to protect the pilgrim way. Later still it was acquired by King Ferdinand and further embellished by him. Now the façade is adorned with many pilgrim motifs including the sword of Santiago entwined with the lion of San Marcos. There are many scallop shells and in the square outside the Parador sits a statue of a weary pilgrim. The Parador is magnificent but I did not go inside.
I crossed the 16th century stone bridge over Rio Bernesga and plodded through the endless suburbs of Leon until I came to a town called La Virgen del Camino. Here I stopped for a drink in the sunshine and enjoyed chatting to other walkers as they came along. A group of Australians came along and when they realized that I was a kiwi they told me that the All Blacks trashed the Aussies at rugby some time in the last few days. I was completely unaware of any games happening. I met some German walkers that I had seen earlier and they were suitably surprised to see me again as I was clearly not walking as quickly as others.
There is an ultra modern sanctuary of the Virgin built in 1961 on the site of a spot where a shepherd in the 16th century saw visions of the Virgin who told him that a church would be built there in the future. The place has become a pilgrimage in its own right because of the many miracles associated with the area.
I passed a wrought iron figure of a pilgrim and a series of “hobbit houses” by the roadside. The countryside was peaceful and I reached Villar de Mazarife about 3 pm. I was too tired to explore this little town. A shared meal was prepared by the hospitaleros and I was relieved to go to bed early Accomodation E6. Dinner E9. Breakfast E3. Laundry E6
I set off at sunrise and walked through flat countryside. I am always amazed at the kindness of strangers. Today an old woman gave me some tomatoes from her garden and I ate these during the day as I walked along. I stopped in a hotel at Puente de Orbigo on the far side of the bridge. After an sandwich filled with the marvelous local dried ham and a drink I was ready to carry on through the heat of the day to Santibanez. Just before I came to the village I met David who came along as I was sitting down for a snack. It was very hot and I should have known better than to walk in the middle of the day.
I stopped in Santibanez and David carried on. I was very glad to have stopped at the albergue where there was a most cool and peaceful orchard to relax in. I could see pears and apples growing but there were none ready to eat. I wrote up my diary and went for an amble around the streets. The local people are harvesting the grapes that grow in profusion around the village and surrounding countryside.
I am pleased that my feet are in quite good condition. I have some blisters but these are controlled by Compeed and a large callous has formed on the inside of my left heel. The little toenail on my right foot has fallen off. Perhaps I will loose the little toenail on the right as well.
The cook was Roman and the meal prepared for the pilgrims included risotto followed by tortilla and a potato dish. Generally I am finding that I need a lot of carbohydrates but I miss the salads that I associate with summer time in NZ.
Despite the snorers I slept well and after a quick breakfast at the bar on the corner I headed uphill followed by the blood red disc of the rising sun. For a glorious 7 km or more the path wound through orchards, woodland with holm oak and citrus trees. The grape harvest was in full swing.
Before I reached Astorga there was a hill surmounted by a stone cross commemorating the 5th century Bishop Toribio of Astorga who is said to have fallen to his knees at this place in a final farewell having been banished from the town. From the hilltop there was a wonderful view to Astorga and the hills that I will be climbing in the next day or two. These hills represent the highest part of the journey at 1515 m.
The road dropped steeply into Astorga where I spent a number of hours sightseeing. The first thing to see was the Plaza San Francisco with the pilgrim hostel and the public gardens with views over the mountains. Nearby as the church of St Francis of Assisi who is said to have visited here on his way to Santiago. The church is built partly over some Roman foundations now under a glass covering. I sat down for a while in the Plaza Bartolome then went around the corner to Plaza Mayor where there is a chiming clock. The hours are marked as tow figures (a man and a woman in Maragato costumes strike the central bell.
There were a number of cafes in the square so I stopped for a hot chocolate which is a local speciality. I saw the same group of Australians that I met at Virgen de Camino and we had a pleasant chat. When I got up to leave I could not find the walking stick that Susan gave me so perhaps this is a sign that I do not need it any more. I walked past the fountain in the next square to the Gaudi building known as the Bishop’s Palace. It houses no bishops but is home to an interesting museum. I spent some time there then went to the cathedral museum but I did not have enough time to look at that properly as it was close to siesta time and such places close down during the hottest part of the day.
I sat in a park for over an hour while other people were sleeping. I wrote postcards to the folks at home then continued slowly out of the town. A few kilometers away from the town I met a group of people sitting under some trees. They called out to me inviting me to join them for a sandwich. I was happy to stop again for a while and we had a most entertaining time together. There was a mature Irishman and a young German man together with a youth from Austria and a girl from the Czech republic. We all spoke various versions of English. We began telling each other about things that we had seen along the way and I related the miracle of the cock and the hen. They wanted another story after that so I told them about Maui fishing up the North Island of New Zealand
I left them preparing to sleep off their lunch under the trees and carried on to a pretty village of Murias de Rechivaldo where I found a place in the albergue at the far end of town. The road continued into dry fields immediately after the albergue so it was the obvious place to stop. There was a courtyard where I was able to write up my journal and a separate yard for laundry. The communal meal consisted of a hearty lentil soup followed by salad and paprika potatoes and chorizo sausage. Bed and meal E18
Over dinner I happened to mention the loss of my walking stick and a man gave me a set of sticks that he was not using. Once again people are being so kind and supportive. I hope that I am able to pass on this kindness to others.
It was hard to wake up this morning. There is no daylight saving here so sunrise is getting later every day. I was the last to leave the albergue at 8.30 am after a breakfast of bread and jam with coffee. The path was a straight line following the power pylons for some distance. I met a man with a toy animal tail hanging out of his pack. When I pointed this out to him he told me it was his tiger and he took off like a rocket leaving me giggling in his wake.
I passed through several crumbling villages and reached the Cowboy Bar at El Ganso where I had a soft drink and admired the displays of cowboy equipment and a faded dog eared picture of the Magnificent Seven. The whole area appeared to be very run down with few people and few amenities. I gathered that the increasing numbers of pilgrims is leading to a renewal of these villages as people see business opportunities in providing services to the walkers.
The heavily undulating path followed the highway to Rabanal del Camino where I lunched on tortilla, coffee and orange juice. From Rabanal the road became steeper. The town itself appears to have been established to care for the pilgrims before the set off to climb over the mountains. The Knights Templar had a presence here from the 12th century ensuring the safe passage of pilgrims. They probably built the 12th century church of Santa Maria.
I carried on for another 5 km to Foncebadon passing blooming heather and stunted pine trees. I emerged from the woodland higher than the power pylons and reached the semi abandoned village about 3 pm. The first albergue was full so I was allocated a place in the second one run by a family of yogis. They had a rosy roly poly baby and I became quite friendly with her. I met the same four picnicers from Astorga and we sat in the sun together for several hours. When it was time for dinner they carried on up the hill so as to be in a good position to reach the top by dawn.
There was a wonderful meal provided starting with local cheese, jambon and chorizo followed by paella and salad and finishing with home made yoghurt and honey. Dinner bed and breakfast for E20. I am well satisfied.
I was up early and out of the albergue before sunrise hoping to make it to the iron cross at the top before the sun shone on it. I did not allow enough time for that but I was surrounded by alpine glow as I threw my stone on to the pile left by other walkers and cast aside my former life. The pile of stones was much taller than me but the simplicity of the place was spoiled by the graffiti and junk dropped by other people. The simple iron cross stands at 1504m
Several km later I reached Manjarin where there was a café and albergue. I did not visit the albergue but I used the pit privy on the other side of the road. As I contemplated the view and smelled the aroma of coffee I thought about the distance already covered and the road ahead. I was lucky to be there on a day when the usual mountain mist was not blocking the view. The village has an official population of one person, a modern knight called Tomas. He has renovated one house in the abandoned village and is engaged in organically developing the albergue along ecological lines
The road sloped downwards below a communication mast and military base. The path was rocky and I was glad of the walking sticks. From the hill I was able to see the village of Acebo and when I arrived there I saw a number of walkers relaxing beside a drinking fountain outside a café called Casa Josefina. I bought a snack and received a stamp in my credencial.
The road continued down to Riego de Ambros where attractive houses with overhanging balconies crowded along the main road. The air was warmer and perhaps this explains why there appeared to be more people around. I found a deserted café where there was a fine view from the deck. I had another snack while I admired the view and nerved myself for the relentless downward path towards Ponferrada.
At the bottom of a steep rocky defile I came to a boggy area where someone had laid down logs to keep walkers above the water. I entered a grove of trees and somehow missed the walking track so in the heat of the day I trudged down the highway through a gorge to Molinaseca. I sat in a park beside the stone bridge to gather my strength for the last few km to Ponferrada.
A woman came up to me and began a conversation that included Spanish English and sign language as well as drawing pictures on paper. We got on really well though I am not sure how much we really understood each other. Eventually her husband offered me a lift into Ponferrada and I was delighted to accept. The road was mostly through suburbs in any event.
At last I arrived in the new municipal albergue where once again I saw other walkers that I had met before including a Finnish couple who shared my room at Santibanez. I also met Wolfgang from Germany who walked with me for part of the way on the first day to Roncesvalles.
I decided to wait in Ponferrada for Leonie. I visited the wonderful Templar Castle that is such a dominating presence in this town. Once again the kindness of strangers was overwhelming. A young man from Mexico gave me some of his blister treatment medication.
It was a hot night and the basement room where I was allocated a bunk was poorly ventilated. The snoring echoed around the room. I left the albergue before 8 am and waited for Leonie in a café near the castle.
When she arrived we found each other after a series of text messages. We decided to take another bus trip to Sarria as I am still going slowly and I will not arrive in Santiago in time to catch my plane to London. We visited a local market and walked for a long way to find the bus station or the railway station. We booked into a local hotel where we luxuriated in hot showers. On the advice of the concierge I sent my clothing to a local laundry but when it came back there was no sign of my good Icebreaker walking socks. I felt rather sad at losing them after only a few days of wearing them but I need to learn about detachment.
There was a generous breakfast at the hotel then we caught the bus. There was no direct bus to Sarria so we went to Lugo where we waited 5 hours for a connection to Sarria. Along the way I recognized many walkers but after we reached the highest point in the road at O’Cebreiro we turned off the Camino towards Lugo, the regional capital. There was plenty to see in that town. We visited the cathedral, admired the public gardens and walked around part of the Roman wall.
The trip to Sarria was short but when we arrived we wandered around for quite some time before finding the albergue on the hill. I was allocated a top berth for the first time in a room with only four bunks. Happily there were no snorers. Bus fares E8 to Lugo then E3 to Sarria. Albergue E9
Sarria has Celtic origins and became a major medieval pilgrim centre. The charming old quarter has been largely left alone by modern development which has concentrated on the eastern side of the town. The bustle of pilgrim traffic has increased noticeably.
I was woken up early by people rustling packs and fastening zippers. I left the albergue at 6.30 am to find breakfast in a local bar. Fortified by croissant, coffee and orange juice Leonie and I left the town while it was still dark. We followed the road up the hill past the convent and the cemetery then down to a bridge over the stream. I was not comfortable walking by torchlight but plenty of other people were including Leonie who went on ahead. I waited beside the stream until it was daylight. It was a misty morning but not cold. I could hear traffic on the main road and a train went past in the dark before I felt able to carry on at 7.45 am.
Leonie waited for me after an hour then she carried on quickly. I did not want to hurry through the lovely farm countryside filled with the aroma of cows and silage. The fog settled in the valleys and I walked on the sunny hill tops. “Glory be to God for dappled things”. Windmills gently stirred the fog.
I stopped for lunch at a café near Montgas. In a walled garden overlooked by a blissful seated Buddha I relaxed to the sound of Enya and Carmina Burana. Leonie reached Portomarin at 1 pm but it was 2.30 before I arrived feeling very tired. It had been a steady uphill walk for most of the day. I did not have enough to drink.
When I reached Portomarin I crossed the Rio Mino which was extremely low due to the drought. There was a modern bridge built high above the water and next to it sat the disused medieval bridge. Because of the low water level the remains of the Roman bridge were also exposed. The good weather that I am enjoying must be causing great anxiety to the farmers.
Leonie had been shopping so we had a picnic in the park and said prayers for the soul of Murray Smith who passed away yesterday. We wanted to see inside the local church but it was locked. On the way back to the albergue we met David who was just arriving and three of the Hungarian women who were comfortably settled in one of the bunkrooms.
In the albergue there was a sick man who was allocated a room by himself. He came out wearing a face mask as we entered the dining room. I spoke to him briefly as an ambulance arrived to take him to the hospital in Lugo. I am very glad to know that there is such a well organized health system in Spain.
There was more fog this morning. I chatted to David over coffee while Leonie headed off into the misty morning. As the daylight strengthened it was impossible to see much at all through the fog. I walked uphill all morning and met the man who had been taken to the hospital. He was Danish and told me that as he arrived in Portomarin he had collapsed with chest pains. The police picked him up off the ground and took him to the albergue. They tested him for a heart attack and called the ambulance. At the hospital after lots of tests it transpired that he was suffering from bronchitis so he was very glad of the help that he had received.
The path went downhill for the afternoon. I reached Albergue A Calzada well after Leonie at about 2.30 pm. The private albergue had 10 places and I thought we were going to be the only takers but two Spanish men arrived about 6 pm. They had not been walking long and one had bad blisters.
After relaxing in the sun for a while I walked to Vilar de Donas to view the church which is a national monument and an ancient seat of the Knights of Santiago. The church dates from 14th century but its origins go back to the formation of a nunnery in the 10th century (hence the name Donas). The church has impressive stone effigies and frescoes and was well worth the extra walk.
There was fog again this morning. This appears to be characteristic of Galicia. Although we left the albergue at the same time Leonie was soon ahead of me and I walked alone with my thoughts as is the case for most pilgrims. Somewhere in the woods a farmer had put out trays of raspberries for E1.50 and they were very good.
I carried on passing regular milestones giving the ever decreasing distance to Santiago. I stopped at a place called Casanova where the milestone showed 60 km to Santiago. There were a number of places of historical significance but I did not stop until I reached an industrial park beside the main highway where the Knights and Dames of the Way of St James have erected a monument to themselves. To my great amusement someone using the same yellow paint as the familiar arrows marking the Camino has written “Vanitas Vanitatis” across the base of the monument.
There was a magnificent medieval bridge over the Rio Furelos leading into the old village of Furelos. I stopped to get a stamp on my credencial at the church of San Juan and was impressed by the image of a crucified Christ reaching down from the cross to humanity. The same image is on the stamp.
From there it was only a short walk to Melide, an administrative centre with a population of 8000. The local speciality was octopus but I could not bring myself to try it. Leonie had met two Englishmen who were familiar with the area and who also spoke Spanish. With their help we booked ourselves into Hotel Rua at the next town. Colin and Mike have been friends for many years and they are walking the last part of the Camino this year after starting out on their holidays two years ago. Colin is an academic who has lived in Canada for 30 odd years but I never found out much about Mike.
I am starting a new month in a new province. Just after Casanova I crossed from Lugo to Coruna. It was only a short walk to the next stop at Arzua. Leonie set us up at the Hotel Rua recommended by Colin and Mike. As I arrived in Arzua I met David who was looking rather glum. He has damaged his Archilles tendon and is wondering whether to give up walking. We sat in the shade and talked until Leonie came back from exploring the town.
After attending to the laundry Leonie and I wandered along the road again. We met two young American men and had a long discussion with them about the state of the world. They are aged 25 years and have been friends since their earliest school days. Dan is a Captain in the US army and Alan manages an IT business. I enjoyed their company. I have not met many Americans on the Camino. There have been lots of Europeans and Canadians and a sprinkling of people from the other continents. It was great to be able to discuss various subjects without worrying if I was being understood.
A large merry group went to dinner together at a local restaurant. The meal was excellent and the company very entertaining but something disagreed with me and I felt unwell during the night.
In the morning I could not get out of bed. I felt really ill but I am not sure what was the matter. Leonie set off for the next destination early but I dragged myself out of bed about 10 am and took a bus to Arca (E 1.45) arriving shortly after Leonie. I went to bed and stayed there all afternoon and all night and felt much better the next day.
I was one of the last people to leave the albergue again. It was still dark when I hit the road past the Casa Concello. There was the usual morning mist but I do not know how I came to miss the turnoff to the walking track. I continued along the road for over an hour and I kept seeing yellow arrows so I thought I was going in the right direction. I was going up a hill on a road through the forest when a car went past. Something made me look back at the vehicle and the driver was looking at me. The vehicle came up behind me and the driver asked in Spanish if I was looking for the Camino. She drove me to the turnoff which was right in town and then I was on the right road at last. She was another angel and I am very glad that she found me. Who knows how far I would have wandered away from the correct route.
I followed the correct path which was full of walkers (and cyclists) through woodland. Gradually the oak trees gave way to pines and eucalypts and the air filled with their astringent aroma. The path led around the end of the airport underneath the banks of lights that warn pilots of the end of the runway.
I stopped at a nearby café called Porta de Santiago but I was still not ready to eat anything. I shared a table with a woman called Lois from Perth WA. She was a community development social worker with her own practice. I met her again at Monte Gozo about 5 km from Santiago. I took photos of the huge monument raised to commemorate the visit of Pope John Paul II. I was disappointed at the amount of haze that obscured the view of Santiago. In any event the view was dominated by a huge sports complex.
I descended into the suburbs and plodded on until I reached the cathedral. I stopped to listen to a Galician piper playing in a covered way near the cathedral. After an exchange of text messages I found Leonie and joined her and a couple of Australian women for a meal. It was my first solid food for 48 hours and a salad was just right.
I queued at the Pilgrim Office for my stamp and received a Compostola (Certificate of Completion). I was not sure if I would be entitled to a certificate because I took a bus to Arca but after checking my credencial no questions were asked. I was extremely glad to be in Santiago at last and there was a real atmosphere of celebration. We met the two American men and they were in the mood to celebrate as well. By the time that I had freshened up it was raining and we did not go out after all.
It was a long wet morning with no good reason to get up. Leonie and I shared a room at La Salle Hotel and when we did eventually emerge from hibernation we attended the Pilgrim Mass at the cathedral. Although we were early the cathedral was full and there was nowhere to sit. We looked at the decorations and the giant incense burner which was not used during this service. From our vantage point we were not able to see much of the mass. We could not even see the high altar.
I did not participate in the usual pilgrim rituals such as hugging the image of St James and visiting the crypt containing his remains. Even so I was horrified to see parties of tourists being guided through the church during mass. It seemed so disrespectful. In the midst of all the clatter and chatter I was very moved to see a young man who looked as though he might be from South America kneeling by his pack during the Adoration of the Host. Perhaps the world will be saved by one sincere soul.
We went out into the rain to shop for souvenirs. We lunched at about 2.30 in a traditional restaurant with lots of Spaniards. Dan and Alan came along with us and there was a discussion about where we should eat. I wanted a paella. I vetoed the idea of doner kebab. We agreed to avoid the octopus but chose a dish of cockles in garlic butter, another dish of mussels in paprika and olive oil, seafood paella and veal chop with fries. It was all delicious and very reasonably priced at E75 for the whole meal.
At 5 pm the four of us met up with Jean and Susan Holden from Brisbane to take a tour over the roof of the cathedral. The rain slowed to a drizzle as we visited the choir gallery and the council chamber before we went outside on to the roof. The commentary was all in Spanish so it was not much help but I enjoyed the views especially looking back in the direction from which we came.
At one point on the roof we came to a copper cross mounted on the back of a ram with curly horns. The ram is a sacrificial animal and this spot was visited by the pilgrims in order to burn their pilgrimage clothing. This symbolized the giving up of the old life and the adoption of a new way.
Back on the ground level we farewelled Dan and Alan and went to have afternoon tea at the Parador where Jean and Susan from Brisbane were staying. This luxury hotel has been established in the former Pilgrim Hostel. The hotel offers a free meal to the first 10 pilgrims to present themselves at the right time of day.
We sat in a dark paneled bar room and were served tea and little cakes. I mused about the whole process of Pilgrimage. So many people for all sorts of different reasons set out on the walk to Santiago. The facilities are often crowded and inadequate and yet the hotel was purpose built as Pilgrim accommodation adjacent to the cathedral and it has been turned into a luxury hotel that accommodates only the few who can afford such services. The quid pro quo is 30 free meals a day ---- surely a modest acknowledgement.
There is a plan afoot to build a new pilgrim hostel but who knows when that will be ready. Meanwhile the pressure on the existing facilities keeps building up. Next year is a Holy Year and many more pilgrims are expected to make the journey.
On 5 October I flew to London on Ryanair after repacking my rucksack and throwing out the accumulated junk. I am pleased that I have used all the things that I brought along with me from Glasgow. Leonie has thrown away her excess clothing but I have none. The lesson is that I actually need very little and I will carry this idea into the future with me.
On my last weekend in Glasgow Barbara arranged a visit to the Isle of Bute so that I could see the public gardens there and enjoy the autumn colours. We had to take the car ferry from Wemyss Bay which was an adventure in itself. It was rather grey as we set out for the half hour journey across the water. Barbara told me that we were going to stay in a country hotel but she did not have the name of it.
I wrote to Gayle Morrison telling her that we were going to Bute for the weekend and she mentioned that her son had done some research about some very elaborate Victorian toilets situated on the wharf at Rothesay. When we arrived I saw the building that Gayle had mentioned and made a note to investigate later. We set out from the wharf along the waterfront to the hotel. We missed the entrance. I did not see any sign so we turned back to look for the place.
Eventually we drove up a long tree lined driveway to a charming building described in 19th century guidebooks as “a neat villa”. There were a few cars outside and I pointed out to Barbara that someone had hung balloons on the railings. She told me to go on inside and she started to open the boot for our bags. As I went up the stairs I saw Barbara Wortley in the hall but before I could think about this “coincidence” other people in the hallway started to call out “Surprise” and “Happy Birthday”.
I was completely astounded having had no inkling of the plotting that had been going on around me. It must have been very convenient for me to be away in Spain over the last month. I was delighted to see everyone especially as I thought about all the detective work that must have gone on to locate my friends all over the United Kingdom. I am planning to celebrate my 60th birthday when I arrive back in New Zealand but all the people who came to Bute would be unable to be in Auckland at the relevant time.
The house, known as Meikle Ascog, was built by an engineer, Robert Thom, in 1830. It is situated on the same estate as Ascog House which is much older. It is now owned by the Landmark Trust which buys older houses and restores them to a useable condition. This one was fitted with four modern bathrooms and a reasonably well equipped kitchen. An effort has been made to decorate the house in the style that would have been current at the time of its construction.
There were enough bedrooms for 10 people. The large dining room seated 18 for Sunday lunch and there was a large lounge with a fireplace and several sofas with soft squashy cushions. It was very comfortable and homely especially when the fire was lit. Ray Marriott was able to get the central heating going soon after his arrival and that got rid of the chill that is inevitable when a house is not occupied all the time.
People came and went at different times and I kept being surprised at the number of people who came along many of them from great distances. As the weekend progressed I learned that many of them had known about the plans for months and had somehow kept the whole thing from me. Other people had not been able to attend including Tina Salter from Waterford, Helen and Harold Jones from Winsley and Carolyn and Philip Evans from Chandlers Ford. Even Gayle Morrison had kept quiet knowing all along that something was afoot.
We had fine views across the sea to the mainland. We walked along the West Island Way from Kilchattan Bay to get some exercise which was very necessary due to the large amount of excellent food. We went to the beach to find some seals and also went looking for standing stones.
It was a most excellent weekend and a wonderful surprise. I am immensely grateful to everyone who contributed to making the occasion such a success. There were many special moments such as the time that Rosemary played the pipes for me. I was so thrilled. Another special moment was when young Gareth announced to the adults who were lingering at the table over dessert and coffee that he had found a box in the pantry and its contents concerned me but it was a secret and he was not going to tell me about it. Then there was a special moment when the contents were revealed ...... a delicious confection in pink and blue.
The Isle of Bute has been developing as a holiday destination since the 1840s. The elaborate gentlemen’s facilities on the wharf appear to have catered for large numbers of male visitors but it is not clear how the women managed. I gathered that the ladies facilities were constructed later than those for the men.
It was very interesting to see that no expense had been spared in the design and construction of the building which held pride of place on the wharf where it commands a view of the whole town of Rothesay.
Several months ago Claire Duncan offered me the use of her garden to celebrate my 60th birthday. I was worried about the weather as it can be wet and cold at this time of the year so I hired a marquee. Lorna McIntosh did the catering. Twisty Willow was the band and a very happy group of family and friends gathered for an informal lunch.
The venue was much admired and the food was marvelous and the music did much to enhance the occasion.
Every second year the New Zealand International Festival of the Arts is held in Wellington. Another Festival is held in Auckland on the odd years so this year the Festival was in Wellington. After discussions with Steve and Erica Cooney I bought some tickets late last year then made arrangements to fly to Wellington for two weeks. The Cooneys invited me to stay with them and our plans developed from there.
On 26 February they met me at Wellington airport and we drove to town for the first concert. This was a performance of Mahler’s 8th Symphony with the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra under the baton of Vladimir Ashkenazy. There were five choirs gathered from different parts of New Zealand trained by Karen Grylls, Michael Fulcher and Brian Law. The soloists were mostly from overseas including
Twyla Robinson Magna Peccatrix
Marina Shaguch Una Poenitentium
Sara Mcliver Mater Gloriosa
Dagmar Peckova Mulier Samaritiana
Bernadette Cullen Maria Aegyptiaca
Simon O’Neill Doctor Marianus
Markus Eiche Pater Ecstaticus
Martin Snell Pater Profundus
We had good seats and the sound filled the Michael Fowler Centre. It was a most excellent concert and I considered myself lucky to have tickets at all. The demand for tickets was very heavy and despite my years of subscribing to the NZSO I missed out on being balloted a seat. Steve queued and bought tickets for the three of us. Those who missed out were able to watch on huge screens erected outside the concert hall. Fortunately the evening was balmy.
A week later while the Cooneys attended a different festival event, I attended another concert at the same venue with Simon O’Neill giving a recital of Wagner arias. Once again the NZSO was in a supporting role under the baton of Anthony Legge who is an experienced conductor having worked with opera companies in Australia and Europe and UK. The arias were interspersed with orchestral interludes including “The Ride of the Valkyries”, the introduction to Act 3 Lohengrin, Siegfried’s Rhine journey as well as the Good Friday Music from Parsifal. The arias were all wonderful and the atmosphere was electric as Simon O’Neill performed “In Fernem Land” from Lohengrin, “Wintersturme wichen dem Wonnemond” and others. After the interval he thanked the audience for coming along and acknowledged his parents and teachers to rapturous applause. A female voice from the audience yelled “We love you” and quite put the great man off his speech. It was a truly magical evening with the opportunity to buy audio CDs signed by Simon O’Neill himself.
The following night there was another special event. Steve and Erica and I attended a concert to honour Nina Simone who passed away in 2003. She was an inspiring musician and activist who made many recordings that have left an unforgettable mark on the world. Her repertoire included powerful jazz ballads and rousing protest songs. I have only one of her recordings but I am determined to remedy that soon. This long awaited tribute to the legendary jazz diva featured four wonderful female vocalists different from each other but worthy to recall the glory days of Nina Simone. They were Patti Austin, Dianne Reeves, Lizz Wright and Nina Simone’s own daughter--- simply known as Simone. The band included musicians who had played with Nina Simone herself for years and the result was a sparkling concert filled with songs she made famous. We were delighted.
My visit to Wellington coincided with the start of the Baha’I month of fasting so after the Mahler concert I spent a relaxed weekend with the Cooneys at their home in Kapiti. We entertained Graham Hassall and his family for lunch then we all attended a BBQ with other friends. During the first week of the Fast we stayed at home relaxing and enjoying each others company. We watched DVDs, listened to music, read books, walked on the beach and even did a small amount of shopping.
I had arranged to work for a week at Lower Hutt and Wellington Courts so on 7 March Steve drove me over to Lower Hutt to stay with the Moayyed family in their home on the hill. I was a lot more tired once I started working so after two days at Lower Hutt Court I moved to a hotel in Wellington just one block away from the courthouse where I was stationed for the rest of the week. I had a room with a balcony and a harbour view. I ate out every night at a different restaurant and the weather remained fine and still until the last day when a severe storm tore roofs off houses and threw down trees across roads. I was caught in icy rain as I ran back to the hotel after work.
The night of the storm was my last one in Wellington. Steve and Erica met me at the hotel and we went to another concert at the Michael Fowler Centre. This concert featured Ravi Shankar playing with his daughter Anoushka. It was a tremendous evening showing that despite his advancing years Ravi Shankar was still the master of the sitar. I do not expect to see him live again. I remember hearing him in the Auckland Town Hall during my student days. It does not seem that long ago but I noticed that Ravi Shankar has aged so I am sure that I must have aged as well.
The visit to Wellington was successful on so many fronts. Not only did I spend time with the Cooneys and the Moayyeds but I also met Brian Cox, a friend from my days at Auckland University. We had not seen each other for 35 years. We had a lot of talking to do. Another evening was spent telling Margaret MacKenzie about my walk on the Camino. Hopefully there will be many similar visits in future
I took an early flight to Sydney on 22 March and arrived while most Sydneysiders were trying to get to work. The original plan was to attend a performance of “King Lear” at the Drama Theatre and an opera at the Opera House but I decided to stay an extra day and visit the Baha’I House of Worship in Mona Vale.
The purpose of the visit to the Baha’I National Centre was to meet the archivist and to conduct a brief survey of any material about the life of Margaret Stevenson who was the first Baha’I in New Zealand. In about 2012 it will be 100 years since she became a Baha’I and I am hoping to find out more about this momentous event. The exact date of her declaration of belief in Baha’u’llah is unknown. She was elected to serve on the first National Spiritual Assembly of Australia and New Zealand in 1934 so I thought that there might be some more details available in Australia.
I spent the day in the basement of the House of Worship wearing cotton gloves and turning the dusty pages of old files. I found a lot of information to fill in the gaps of the jigsaw but there is a lot more to be studied so I will have to return to Sydney in the future. My diary is so full of other appointments that I am not sure when I will be able to fit this into my crazy busy life.
I stayed that night at the home of Khosrow and Carmen Lalehzari in Baulkham Hills. A large happy group sat down to dinner and we told stories and laughed together. It was a lovely evening and I enjoyed catching up with Arini Beaumaris and meeting new friends.
I spent the next morning with Carmen then she put me on the train for the Circular Quay Station. From there I walked to the Youth Hostel Association accommodation at Cumberland Street on The Rocks. I chose this place because of its convenient location near the Opera House. The Rocks is associated with the earliest European inhabitants of Sydney. There are numerous signs drawing attention to historical events in the area. There are narrow winding roads but the slums have all been demolished now.
The YHA building is constructed on poles so that a large area can be left accessible to archaeologists and others with an interest in history. From the entrance of the hostel I could see the foundations of many small houses that had once crowded along Cumberland Street. A lot of attention was paid to putting in drains after the houses were erected but the whole area must have been pestilential for the many inhabitants in the early days.
The Rocks as its name suggests forms a rocky peninsula jutting out into Sydney Harbour. Prior to the arrival of the Europeans the land was occupied by the Cadigal people and it must have been a hostile and exposed place. Archaeological excavations during the construction of the Shangri-La Hotel uncovered a campfire dating from at least 300 years before the arrival of the first ships and containing the bones of bream, snapper, oysters and other seafood.
Things changed with the arrival of the first convict ships in 1788. The names of the earliest Europeans are not known but the remains of their houses were discovered in 1994 between Cumberland and Gloucester Streets. The site attracted enormous public attention. About 400 volunteers and 20 archaeologists were involved in the excavations. The foundations of 30 shops and homes were found (the earliest dated from 1795) along with 750,000 artifacts. The site has been preserved as a rare insight into the early urban life in Sydney.
I stayed in the hostel two nights attending artistic performances at night and trying to find out more about the life and times of Margaret Stevenson at the State Library of NSW during the day. There was no joy at the library so I had to console myself by going shopping.
The performance of “King Lear” was in the Drama Theatre in the Opera House. The theatre was relatively small and all the seats had good views of the stage which used a minimalist set. There was a carousel to move the characters through different scenes suggested by curtains rather than furniture. The plot had lost none of its punch and remains a cautionary tale about reposing too much trust in your children. The performers were from the Bell Shakespeare Company with John Bell playing Lear.
The opera on the following night was “Midsummer Night’s Dream” with libretto by Benjamin Britten and Peter Pears. As far as I could tell just about all of the text came from Shakespeare but there had to be some adaptations for the new format. The music by Britten was simply gorgeous and it conjured up the special fairy world through gentle tinklings and shimmering strings. The stage was a huge band rotunda with the orchestra wearing band uniforms occupying the first floor level and the fairies emerging from a watery cave underneath the musicians. On the second level equivalent to the roof were a number of fairy activities involving Puck and Oberon. The setting was India in 1923 so the humans wore clothing of that period while the fairies were all wrapped in gauzy saris and Nehru jackets in many colours. It was a ravishing sight and a delightful evening all round.
On 25 March I walked back to Circular Quay and took the train direct to the airport. It was very convenient and painless and I will remember this for next time I am in Sydney
Over the years I have been too busy to attend some of the iconic kiwi events such as the Wearable Art Show and jazz festivals and Womad. Attending the Arts festival in Wellington was one attempt to make up for lost time. At the time of my birthday party Claire and Brian told me that they were going to the Warbirds Over Wanaka show so I decided to go along with them. This was another way of making up for lost time.
On the way to and from Wanaka I spent a couple of days with Ellen Ramer. We read books and talked for hours. We went to the movies and had a traditional Chinese Foot Massage. We walked up the hill behind Ellen’s home to admire the view. I admired her garden. She was able to pick strawberries for breakfast. It was a most relaxing visit.
On Good Friday I flew past Mt Cook on a clear day to Wanaka where the airport was in a fever of preparation. Grandstands had been constructed beside the runway. Numerous food stalls were gearing up to refresh an expected 100,000 people. It was quite exciting just to land amidst all this activity.
Ruth Lyons met me at the airport and we went back to her home for a few hours until Claire and Brian arrived from Queenstown with their daughter, Sarah. The Duncans and I went out to the old Cardrona pub for a meal. It was too late to get a picture of the historic building which must have been the scene of many colourful activities over the years. Nowadays it keeps a good table. I enjoyed a venison hotpot
We stayed at the house belonging to Juliet Richmond and Helen Jones which was very convenient. Sarah went back to Queenstown with a friend and I went with Claire and Brian to the Airshow. It was very well organized with a programme running from 10 am to late in the afternoon. We enjoyed a good humoured commentary from Jim Hickey of TV One weather fame. He was supported by a number of others with family connections to the aircraft being displayed or with experience in flying the various planes that we saw and heard.
The programme began with training planes of different vintages starting with the lovely Tiger Moth and moving through Harvards and Yaks to jets including a Vampire with that strange double tail. In between there was an aerobatic display from a group of Harvards and a specially modified Juka built by the current world champion aerobatic pilot, Yurgis Kairys from Lithuania. He did the craziest things culminating in a corkscrew roll around a low flying DC3. Jim Hickey referred to him as a Lithuaniac.
We were deafened by a group of 4 F/A-18 Hornets from the Australian Airforce which beat up the airfield with a series of mock attack passes at about 1000kph. The four of them flew past in close formation with only a few metres between their wing tips. One came back later with All Black Richie McCaw in the co pilot’s seat.
We were thrilled by parachutists from the RNZAF trailing coloured smoke. For added novelty there was a German wing walker doing her stuff by climbing on top of a Boeing Stearman and then clambering out between the wings. At one point the plane flew past upside down with Peggy Krainz strapped on to the wing top.
There were so many planes to admire. Where else would you see 11 Harvards flying in formation across the sky. There was even a Catalina lumbering along.
One of the highlights was the Japanese Mitsubishi A6M3 Zero piloted by a former US Marine who demonstrated the agility and power that made this plane such a force to be reckoned with early in WWII.
In such company the distinctive growl of the Mark IX Spitfire’s Merlin engine was almost an anticlimax. This one was painted in the livery of New Zealand Battle of Britain ace, Alan Deere. It is owned by his family and people almost stood up as it passed.
Our tickets allowed us one day at the Airshow. On the Sunday it was cooler and overcast in the morning so I was glad that we chose Saturday for our visit to the Airshow. We attended a church service then the Duncans dropped me at Ruth’s home. We took the dogs for a walk in the afternoon. I admired the autumn colours and the 18 planes circling the airport in formation.
During that day I became tired as a cold developed. I took things very quietly when I went back to see Ellen and even quieter when I arrived home in Thames
New Plymouth in autumn is not as pretty as autumn in Wanaka nor is it as pretty as springtime in Taranaki but the days were crisp and clear and I saw that mountain reaching for the sky without any snow on its head.
On 13 February Neale was to celebrate his 50th birthday and I was fully planning to be there but the big event happened on a weekend when I had already made a Baha’I commitment. I flew down there for a special visit on 17/18 April.
Fiona picked me up at the airport and we went to their home briefly. I put down my bags and got into the car to see Fiona running in a handicap event at her school. There was a 4 km course laid out on the playing fields and Fiona performed quite creditably. Neale arrived to watch her as well and fortunately it was not too cold.
Later that day I admired photos of Neale’s birthday celebration. We went out for dinner on Saturday night then while I slept in on Sunday Fiona went for another run. We went out to see the exhibition about the Taranaki Land Wars at Puke Ariki then lunched at the restaurant before going walking along the shore.
The exhibition was extremely well presented tracing the origins of the tension and the course of the hostilities that erupted in Taranaki 150 years ago. There were historic photographs, precious objects and digital technology along with poignant personal accounts of the war. Fiona told me that all of the children at her school had been taken to see the exhibition. I hope that they all went back later with their parents and grandparents. I do not remember hearing any of these stories when I was at school
The International Association of Women Judges (IAWJ) is a non-profit, non-governmental organization of more than 4,000 members at all judicial levels in more than 90 nations. Since forming in 1991, the IAWJ has united women judges from diverse legal-judicial systems who share a commitment to equal justice and the rule of law.
The IAWJ believes that women judges are in a unique position to advance the rights of women through the judicial system, and to protect and empower women throughout the world. Through pioneering judicial education programs and worldwide collaboration, the IAWJ is working to advance human rights, eliminate discrimination on the basis of gender, and make courts accessible to all.
In dialogue with women judges from all levels and different types of courts, IAWJ members share experiences and best practices in such areas as violence and discrimination against women, international child abduction and gender bias in the courts.
I have been a member of IAWJ for a number of years and I attended conferences in San Diego, Uganda and Sydney. The latest conference was in Seoul 11 through 15 May 2010. I was delighted to be able to attend along with 6 other judges from this country. It was a time to meet old friends and to make new ones in a country that I never expected to visit. There were about 400 delegates at the conference from all over the world but the largest contingent came from South Korea.
I flew on Korean Airlines direct from Auckland to Seoul. The trip lasted 11 hours and since it was a daytime flight I was able to watch movies and enjoy the hospitality of the dainty flight attendants dressed all in sky blue uniforms. The airport at Incheon is located about 90 minutes drive from the hotel where I was staying so I had a long bus ride through the gathering dusk. I stayed at the Grand Intercontinental Hotel where the conference proceedings took place and the first people that I met in the foyer were the kiwi judges just on their way out to dinner. I did not join them for dinner but we agreed to meet the following morning for a sightseeing tour before the opening of the conference.
It was impossible to see everything but we did spend several hours at Changdeokgung Palace which was the principal home for many of the Joseon kings. It is the best preserved of the palaces in Seoul and has a beautiful garden at the rear. I was delighted and fascinated by the carved and painted buildings and the classic proportions of the buildings, courtyard and gardens. The World Cultural Heritage Committee designated Changdeokgung Palace as a world cultural heritage site in December 1997.
The tour also took us to the Seoul Tower located on top of Namsan Mountain. We were expecting views of the city but the pollution made such a haze over Seoul that we could not see much at all. The first tower was built in 1969 as a satellite tower to relay television and radio broadcasts in the Seoul area. It was opened to the public in 1980 then rebuilt in 2005 and it remains a hot tourist attraction.
We visited a market and a factory where locally mined amethysts are cut and polished. The half day tour was over very quickly as the heavy traffic made it difficult to get around much.
That evening the opening ceremony was held outdoors on the terrace of the National Museum. We arrived a little early so I had time to look at a fascinating exhibit about a Yuan merchant ship that sank near Sinan. The cargo of treasures has been painstakingly excavated and is now on display at the museum. I was impressed with the variety and quality of the artifacts made with different styls and glazes and the way in which they were displayed. The building itself was large and airy and there was not long enough to admire all of the exhibits.
The outdoor ceremony included a meal but the evening became cold and it began to rain so the effect was rather spoiled. Fortunately the entertainment offered by a group of musicians using traditional instruments was over before the rain came.
The conference itself was arranged with a number of interesting business sessions and a gala dinner on the final night. The opening of the business sessions was performed by the Prime Minister who was accompanied by elaborate security arrangements which disappeared as soon as he had made his speech. The gala dinner was a splendid occasion with many of the Korean women wearing their traditional costume known as “hambok” and women from other parts of the world wore their national costumes as well. It was a time to showcase traditional Korean fare and it was all as pretty as a picture.
One day I went with Peter Rollo to visit the Demilitarized Zone, a stretch of land that runs the width of the Korean Peninsula and serves as a buffer between North and South Korea. Technically these countries are still at war as there has never been an official peace treaty after the cessation of the shooting war. The ceasefire has left the country permanently divided along the 38th parallel. Visiting the DMZ is strictly prohibited but it is possible to join a tourist trip to the Joint Security Area (Panmunjom) where the peace talks were held in 1953. We saw the unification observatory, Camp Boniface, the Bridge of No Return where prisoners were able to cross once only from one side to the other as well as one of the infiltration tunnels constructed by the North Koreans under the DMZ. The tunnel that we saw was said to be large enough for a fully armed division to pass through in an hour. The whole area was rather chilling as soldiers in different uniforms were only a few metres away from each other and each side has the capacity for deadly force
One night I went to the Nanta Theatre . with two American colleagues, Judith Chirlin and Elaine Streger. This was a popular non verbal comedy performance. Usually there would be traditional music but this particular show has been modernized and altered to suit western tastes. Instead of using traditional instruments it used kitchen implements such as pots, pans and knives which is why the performance is called “Cooking” in English. Due to its popularity it is performed several times a day in a purpose built theatre. Most of the audiences are Western and the show was even brought to one of the International Arts Festivals in Wellington. It was very funny but I would not insist that it is a must see event.
There were many other experiences that I enjoyed in Korea. Just travelling on the subway was fun but it required a lot of concentration to find my way around. One day I went with the same American colleagues to the Leeum Art Museum located on the shoulder of Namsan Mountain. The place had a huge spider out side and a splendid view. The building was reminiscent of the Guggenheim with a spiral staircase filled with light. It was established by the Samsung Cultural Foundation to preserve Korean art history and to exhibit modern art by Korean and foreign artists. Although several different architects were involved in the design phase the building was harmonious and peaceful. I spent a half day walking around the traditional exhibits rather than the modern ones using an audio guide that somehow recognized what I was looking at and gave a commentary in English. I could have stayed there for several days as I managed to see only a fraction of the exhibits.
My visit coincided with the preparations for Buddha’s birthday. There was a temple just a block away from the hotel and I was impressed by the large number of decorative lanterns struck around the gardens. There was a huge statue of the Buddha surrounded by lanterns and lots of visitors. I met a family from Taiwan who told me that Buddha’s birthday is celebrated on different dates there.
On my final night in Seoul I went to the traditional bath house in the hotel and was scrubbed and pummeled by an energetic Korean woman. She had very sharp pointed fingers and I am sure she left dents in my back and my neck. It was however a wonderfully relaxing experience and it put me in the right frame of mind for the long trip home. There was a different model plane for the return trip. It was much less comfortable in that I could not get the seat to recline much and I was really interested in getting some sleep. It may have been due to my general tiredness after such a busy visit.
Hana Myers married Andre Camenzind on 11 June 2010 at Boulevard Gardens, Indooroopilly, Brisbane. It was a wonderful day for all of us. About 50 people gathered outside and waited for the bride to arrive on her father’s arm at 3pm. The bridesmaids were resplendent in green and Hana looked absolutely beautiful.
The Baha’I ceremony was very short consisting of a prayer and two readings followed by the exchange of vows. The Baha’I Faith has no clergy so the couple married each other. In accordance with the Baha’I Law the bride and the groom each repeated a specifically revealed verse “We will all verily abide by the will of God” and then they were married. There was a celebrant present solely to see that the legal requirements were completed. The celebrant does not actually pronounce the couple married and as a result the ceremony is usually very short and simple.
There were photos in the garden as I mused about knowing Hana from her earliest days in Thames. Way back then I read her stories at bedtime. I do not remember getting any older. As the day came to an end we went inside for the reception and enjoyed a meal served at our places. The wedding cake was a splendid confection of white chocolate and raspberry cupcakes decorated with handmade flowers. Each guest received a cupcake.
There was much mingling and laughter. There was a band and people got up and danced. It was all such fun and everyone appeared to be very happy.
Andre is in the Air Force and a couple of days after the wedding he received news of his posting to Monterey. His specialty is aircraft navigation systems and he will study for a Masters Degree while he is USA. Hana has done well with her studies in Canberra and will be transferring to a university in California to complete her degree. Their future looks bright.
Prior to the wedding I stayed with Leslie Mason, Linda’s sister, for a few days then once the guests had mostly departed for their homes I spent a couple of days with Linda and Colin at Samford. I flew back to NZ on the same plane as Colin’s father but there was such a press of people that we did not see each other at Auckland Airport.
I joined the Auckland University Tramping Club early in 1968 and made lifelong friends. I have kept in close touch with only a few of the people I met in those days so when Ruth Lyon announced her plan to organize a reunion I was delighted to join in.
The reunion was held in Wanaka. Helen Jones generously offered me a place to stay and the other arrangements started to fall into place. I flew from Auckland to Queenstown on 2 February 2012 and met Sally Downs who arrived on a later flight. We took the bus to Wanaka and the fun started.
The well organized programme began with registration at the Albert Town Lodge where many of the participants stayed. We enjoyed a BBQ dinner at the Albert Town Tavern and the following night there was a dance at the Lake Wanaka Centre. We danced the old measures and sang the well remembered songs from the newly reprinted song book. In my spare time I joined a group walking up to the base of the Rob Roy Glacier and a smaller group that went on a long sightseeing drive. There was a boat trip and a chance to look at the views of lake and bush. On the final night we all went by bus to Northburn Station for dinner and more singing. It was an extremely busy few days.
After formal events were over people gradually drifted away back to work in some cases and in others small groups went tramping in different places. I was running out of time by this stage so I elected not to go on a long trip. I joined a group that was going on a tramp expected to last for a week on condition that I walked with them for a few hours and returned to Helen’s place that night. It was a truly beautiful day with a placid river and sunshine. I turned back after lunch and Alan Foubister accompanied me to ensure that I crossed the river safely. I stayed at Helen’s place that night then I was joined by David and Glenys Mather. We took the bus back to Queenstown and flew back to Auckland.
Despite the social occasions and the walks there was hardly enough time to catch up with everyone and I have not talked and laughed so much for years. I greatly enjoyed meeting up with people that in some cases I had not seen for 40 years. I was pleasantly surprised at how many of the “Old Soles” were in attendance. I hope that there will be more occasions like this in the not too distant future.
The main purpose of my visit to Nepal in March and April 2012 was to visit UNICEF projects in that country. I joined a group of a dozen Kiwis who were long time supporters of UNICEF and we had quite an adventure together. I flew Air New Zealand to Singapore the on to Nepal by Silk Air a day early so that I could visit the Baha’I community. I spent a day at the National Centre in Kathmandu and joined in the Naw Ruz celebrations. One of the youth took me to visit the grave of Collis Featherstone.
I joined the rest of my group at the Radisson Hotel where we were well looked after. It was a short distance from the main market along dusty streets crowded with motorcycles that did not appear to follow any rules except stopping for traffic lights. There were all kinds of vehicles including horse drawn carts and of course pedestrians in huge numbers, shouldering their way through the crowds.
We visited a health clinic built with Japanese aid and inspected the very basic facilities provided by UNICEF. We met the volunteer community health workers wearing their uniform saris provided by the Nepalese government. The function of these village women is to counsel pregnant women to consult a doctor (where possible) and to have a qualified birth attendant at the birth. Gradually the traditional birth customs are changing. In conversation with the volunteers we discovered that at first the men and the village elders had opposed the changes but when there were more live births and healthy babies and the women recovered more quickly from childbirth attitudes began to change.
We visited an out of school education project that targeted children who were part of their family’s economic unit and so were prevented from attending school. The children and their grandmothers worked all day breaking up rocks for building scoria. They were paid only a few rupees for every basket of small rocks but this pittance was an essential part of the family income. Often the parents would be working at other jobs and the pooled income allowed the family to survive.
The project workers persuaded the parents to release the children for a short time each day. There were several teachers who gathered these children together at a local school after the usual school hours. The children learned reading and writing and English. They sang for us and demonstrated their work. We brought them gifts such as pencils, rulers, erasers and a water filter so that they had clean drinking water available during lessons. The gifts were later shared out by the teachers. I was impressed how they managed with so little.
I had a conversation with one girl aged about 10 years. She was obviously a bright child who loved school but she would not have received any education at all were it not for this project. She was blind in one eye. Eventually curiosity overcame me and I asked her what had happened to her eye. She told me that a butterfly walked on her eye and she lost her sight. I thought that this probably meant that an insect flew into her eye and deposited dust or some other foreign matter. She would have rubbed her eye and an infection set in but the family was too poor to take her to a doctor. One of the Kiwi visitors with nursing experience thought that the girl had a congenital cataract. Either way it seems likely that hospital treatment might restore her sight but there was no money available.
After the visits to the projects we were taken to a local Hindu Temple beside a river. The water way was clogged with rubbish and we were told that when a believer was able to pray in the temple he would throw his clothing into the river to be carried away like his previous life. The whole place appeared unkempt and dusty. Lots of people were walking up and down the staircase leading to the Temple gates and mourners were burning bodies on the ghats beside the river. There were garlands of marigolds decorating the shrines and painted holy men sitting in the shade. It was very exotic.
We visited a huge Buddhist stupa in another part of Kathmandu. We were told that it is the second largest stupa in the world after one in Burma. It appeared to be freshly painted and well cared for. One of the shops in the square where the stupa was located housed a school of religious art. We climbed the stairs to the top story to see students creating the most intricate mandala and other paintings in every combination of colours. It would take months to complete each painting and all of them were for sale.
While we were in Kathmandu the process of acclimatization was going on all the time. I managed quite well at that level but when we went walking in the mountains I started experience discomfort. The journey began with an early morning flight on a small plane to Lukla where there is a short steep runway constructed as one of Sir Edmund Hillary’s Projects. The plan was to walk as far as Ama Dablam Base Camp at about 4500 m above sea level. We set off hopefully staying the first night in a tent camp owned by the travel company (World Expeditions) that arranged the trip. We made quite a caravan with three experienced guides, a team of Sherpas who carried the gear that was not needed during the day and a cook team that prepared the meals. That first night the meals were cooked in a shed and we kiwis ate in the adjacent dining room. The food was plain but good and there was plenty of it. The tents were comfortable and the sleeping bag was thick and warm.
The following morning was crisp and cold. There was porridge for breakfast and we set off through thinning trees passing through small villages and beside agricultural land. Our chief guide was Subal Basnet who was a fountain of information about village life and the general situation in Nepal. His father had served in the Indian Army and since his retirement has been living in Darjeeling. Subal and his wife moved there after the assassination of the Royal Family in Nepal and his wife now runs a coffee shop while Subal is away for half the year walking in the mountains with tourists. During the off season he helps in the coffee shop.
Subal pointed out that the villagers were spreading the contents of the composting toilets on to the agricultural land. When we were there the fields were being ploughed and would soon be sown with barley, potatoes and rice. The rhododendron trees were just coming into bloom and white flowers sparkled against the dark forest. We were walking up a steep sided valley with mountains all around us. We met children walking to school and mule trains carrying every kind of cargo. The pack animals were of various kinds from donkeys to yaks and their droppings dried on the path creating thick dust. I wore a mask to prevent myself from breathing in too much of it. I developed an irritating cough that Subal referred to as a Kunde cough. Kunde is the village where Sir Edmund Hillary built a hospital.
We met men carrying baskets laden with cargo bound for tourist camps higher up the valley. The conical baskets were mounded up with goods of all kinds and were carried on the backs of the porters and supported with a strap around the forehead. They soon developed strong neck muscles but there must have been consequences such as arthritis later in life. I noted that some of the porters appeared to be very young and they were very tired. Subal assured me that they had to be 18 years of age before undertaking such work. When I pointed out that some of them looked younger than that he said they must have come from very poor families.
We stayed the next night in an eco lodge where Sir Edmund Hillary had spent some time. In the dining room there was a wonderful photo of him as a young man draped with climbing ropes against a backdrop of the snow capped Himalayan mountains. There was a museum dedicated to the Sherpas who had supported Western climbing parties over the years with lots of photos. The others went shopping but I was too lethargic. I just wanted to sit down.
Early in the morning we all trooped up to the Park Headquarters a short distance from the lodge. There was a crackling frost and steamy breath clung to our faces. We were rewarded with a view of the sunrise on Mt Everest. The mountain was some distance away but the clear air at that time of day meant that it stood out clearly against a cloudless sky. There was an open area outside the Park HQ building. From this place we could look up the valley to Mt Everest and down to the river. It was a good vantage point for the tourists but also for the armed soldiers who were keeping a watch for insurgents from across the border.
We stayed two nights in Namche Bazaar. This village is picturesquely sited at the head of a valley and there were shops and great views to be had. I was the last one to arrive as I was very tired by this stage. Subal and Nabin Rai stayed with me the whole time. I took such a long time that they stopped at a house on the edge of the town to have some lunch but I could not look at anything to eat. The others went off to experience the delights of the so called Sherpa capital but I could only sit and concentrate on breathing. During the night I woke up panting which did not seem to be a good sign. I had to be very disciplined about carrying on with the rest of the party.
We carried on uphill to a famous temple at Thengboche. It was snowing lightly as I struggled up the hill to the courtyard. The others had carried on to the next camping place as I huffed and puffed my way to a seat. Everything was closed by that stage and I was too tired to look around. Subal and Nabin encouraged me to continue quickly before we all became too cold. We camped that night again and carried on to the lodge at Pengboche the next day. We lunched at the lodge then Subal decided that another woman and I should stay there while the rest of the party pressed on to the Ama Dablam Base camp. I watched them laboring up the side of the steep mountain on the far side of the valley. After they disappeared from view I picked up a book in English from the lounge and began to read “The Girl Who Kicked the Hornets’ Nest”. Although I had read it before it had lost none of its ability to capture my attention.
One of the guides stayed with us and I just sat around doing very little until we went for a short walk through the village the next day. We visited a Buddhist monastery where I caught a concerned glance towards me by the resident monk. He showed us a “yeti scalp” which is kept carefully in a special chest. I read somewhere that Ed Hillary persuaded the monks to let him take it away for testing. The result of the testing was to identify that the object was part of another animal and not a yeti at all. Despite this the object was still treated with great reverence.
After two nights it was time to move on. The main party descended from the Ama Dablam Base camp and we set off separately climbing the steep path towards our next camp. The views were splendid and the air was crisp. The other party caught us up before lunch. We stopped in a small hollow below the road then carried on up and up until I was going so slowly that I was almost stationary. Subal made the decision that I should be helicoptered back to Kathmandu. I felt a bit disappointed not to finish the walk with the others but I had seen Mt Everest and Namche Bazaar. Subal called the helicopter company on his mobile phone. Arrangements were made for me to be picked up at 9am the next day. Nabin stayed with me at a small guest house and the following morning helped me to the edge of town where the helicopter would land.
I was met at Kathmandu Airport by a representative of World Expeditions who took me straight to a Western style clinic for a check up. I was examined by a woman doctor who immediately diagnosed altitude sickness and admitted me to the hospital. After a chest xray I was put into a room by myself and I slept for hours. I received oxygen and my blood pressure, pulse and chest were checked by a nurse every two hours. I felt better gradually and was able to watch TV and sit in the garden. The World Expeditions representative called on me every day.
Three days later I was discharged and returned to the Radisson to await the arrival of the rest of my party. I felt able to do some shopping and we all went out for a farewell dinner one night with Subal. He chose a restaurant where we all signed a banner in the shape of a foot. He showed us a similar one signed by Ed Hillary some years ago. Many of these banners are hanging from the rafters covered in comments in many languages.
We hoped to visit the Royal Palace but it was closed so instead we went to see a beautiful tranquil garden a few blocks from the hotel. The garden had originally been developed for the private delight of an ambassador to Nepal but it is now a public garden in the heart of crazy city traffic. There were roses and still pools with goldfish. There were fountains and shade giving trees. It was a very lovely spot.
The next morning Subal came with me to the clinic so that I could pick up a certificate stating that I was well enough to travel. The doctor warned me to see my GP as soon as I arrived back in New Zealand. I really appreciated Subal’s care and attention to detail. He farewelled us at the hotel as we boarded a bus for the airport. I feel that I owe him my life as he was sufficiently alert to realize that I was really unwell and not just unfit.
I was still feeling lethargic in Singapore but I joined the others in a bus tour around the city. We stopped to see the Merlion. We called in at a well maintained Chinese Temple where in amongst the traditional architecture there was a porch with floor tiles from Europe and the wrought iron fence came from Glasgow. We looked at heritage buildings and visited the orchid gardens which were very beautiful.
The flight on Air New Zealand back to Auckland was not very comfortable as I was crammed into an economy seat next to a window and scarcely able to move because of the large people next to me. I was tired so I had a sleep before driving down to Thames in the moonlight.
The next day was Easter Saturday and I went out to buy some groceries. I became breathless and remembered the warning from the Nepalese doctor. The local medical centre was not open so I went to the A&E Clinic at the hospital. A young doctor with a booming voice and a Scottish accent told me that I was in danger of forming a clot so I was admitted immediately and started a series of treatments with Clexane injections into my lower abdomen. A CT scan on the following Tuesday confirmed that I did indeed have a clot in my lung. I was in hospital for a week. The bruises left by the Clexane shots took weeks to disappear. I had to take warfarin tablets for 6 months and the doctor advised me in writing not to take any long flights for the rest of the year.
The pulmonary embolus resulted in the cancellation of the planned trip to UK. Barbara came to see me instead. She arrived in July and we attended the celebration in honour on Wally Butler’s 80th birthday. There were many fishing stories told and the party went on for two days. It began with lunch at the Te Puke Fire Brigade Hall and continued the next day with a BBQ meal at the Motuoapa Fishing Club. There was music and dancing later and people stayed late as we were all having such a good time.
Barbara and I stayed for an extra day with Wally as Gay had to visit her family in Hamilton. We cooked dinner and talked about the good old days and it was great to be together again.
Eventually we tore ourselves away and drove to Rotorua to visit Alix. We stayed with Colleen and John Pake at Ngongotaha where we relaxed until Barbara had to catch a flight to the South Island.
I met her the following week in Auckland and we returned to Thames where several of her friends came to visit for different periods. We went for a walk along part of the recently opened Hauraki Walkway, visited the Zealong Tea Plantation near Hamilton and had dinner with Roger and Coyla one night. Wally and Gay joined us there. It was an evening of stories and laughter that did not go too late as we all had to travel home again. It was a very crowded visit but I was considerably cheered up by having Barbara to stay for a few days.
I called the drainlayer to inspect the wet patch in my garden. This area became so boggy over the winter that water would come up over my shoes if I walked there. He thought that I had a spring on my property and this was the reason for the concentration of water. It had been a very wet winter but I was not aware of this amount of bog in the past. Perhaps the spring has become apparent due to the heavy rain or perhaps it has been stimulated in some way by the natural earth movement that is going on all the time in the Coromandel area. In any event the excess water was drowning my plants.
After discussions with Tracey Bailey who has given me lots of help and advice with the garden over the past 18 months I decided to have some drainage work done. To me it seemed like a major disruption as the small knot garden had to be removed. A bobcat was hired to dig out new drains. I thought that the existing terraces might have to be dismantled but in the event only the staircase between the upper and lower terrace had to go. This meant a new staircase of wooden construction and new retaining walls for the terraces. The trellis on the north side of the house was replaced with horizontal slats to support the growth in the garden on that side.
The biggest change has been the addition of a gazebo cut into the lower terrace. This was Tracey’s idea and I adopted it enthusiastically. New plants around the garden have been chosen for their resistance to wind and drought. There has been no rain since January and my plants would all die but for the raw water tank that has also been installed. Fortunately the roses are all looking healthy and they are still blooming in late March. I look forward to a visual symphony of white Iceberg roses and blue hydrangeas next spring.
After months of planning I flew to Rome on 25 January and was driven in the Emirates limousine to Hotel Diana at Via Principe Amedeo near the central train station. This hotel boasted a roof garden breakfast restaurant where I poured over the guidebook each morning. There was so much to see and do that I hardly knew where to start. I did a lot of walking and because it was winter I was well wrapped in three layers of merino plus a hat and gloves.
On my first day I rode on the open topped bus around the city in order to get my bearings. It was freezing cold. I knew from my school days that Rome was built on seven hills --- Palatine, Capitoline, Aventine, Celian, Esquiline, Viminal and Quirinal. In ancient times ceremonial processions ended on the Capitol. Rome was founded on the Palatine. The bus trip gave me a sense of the important sights in each district and having seen them from that vantage point I made the decision not to visit the ruins on the Palatine, the Colosseum, the Circus Maximus and the Forum. I also made the decision not to visit the Vatican. I was impressed that there were so many monuments so close together so I did manage to see a lot of them.
At the top of the Capitoline I climbed the stairs known as La Cordonata flanked by enormous statues of Castor and Pollux, the twin saviours of Rome, to the Piazza del Campidoglio designed by Michelangelo. In the centre of the square a magnificent equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius who ruled AD 161 – 180, captured my attention. I read later that this was a copy of the original which only survived a medieval meltdown because it was mistakenly identified as Constantine, the first Christian emperor. I did not make a visit to the Capitoline Museums intending to that later but I was thwarted by the custom of closing on Mondays.
I sat beside the Trevi Fountain and threw a coin into the water remembering the Frank Sinatra song of the 1950s. The place was thronged with tourists and a number of police officers were on patrol no doubt watching for pickpockets. Many coins were sparkling in the fountain and although they belong officially to a charity called Caritas there was an uproar in 2002 when the newspapers reported that homeless people had been collecting the coins for themselves. There was a man dressed as a soldier of ancient Rome posing for photos but this did not appear to me to be an authentic idea especially as the magnificent fountain was completed in 1762 by Nicola Salvi.
I passed by the Tritone Fountain several times but it was being restored and my view was blocked by hoardings. Next time….
The famous Spanish Steps have been a tourist magnet for centuries and so many descended on the area in the 18th Century that it became known as the “English Ghetto”. The staircase was built in 1725 with French money but designed by a Spaniard and named after the nearby Spanish Embassy. At the foot of the steps is a fountain known as Barcaccia (loosely translated as “the old tub”) and at the top is the beautiful Trinita dei Monti church where I had a fantastic view across Rome. Outside the church was an Egyptian obelisk apparently one of many “commandeered” by Rome after Mark Anthony was smitten by Cleopatra. When the Empire collapsed these obelisks were converted from pagan to Christian monuments.
A short distance from the Barcaccia was the Colonna dell’Immacolata where on 8 December each year the local fire fighters climb up a ladder to place a wreath on the arm of the Virgin Mary. According to the guidebook Pope John Paul II did the honours many years ago.
When I was at the Spanish Steps it was winter so the tourist throng was not so great. I visited the Keats-Shelley House to the right of the steps where John Keats spent his last months in 1821. The house has been turned into a museum containing many books and memorabilia including a lock of Milton’s hair, a manuscript by Wilde and a letter from Wordsworth. One of the custodians was a young woman from Dublin who told me how to find Keats’ last resting place in the Protestant Cemetery at Pyramide. Following her directions I took the train to Pyramide so named because of a large pyramid shaped monument near the cemetery. The cemetery was well kept and was the home of a large number of feral cats who glared balefully as I passed through their domain.
Another experience at the Spanish Steps was a visit to the Babington Tea Rooms established by an Englishwoman in the late 19th Century. This genteel and expensive place still serves refreshments following the recipes used by Miss Babington herself as well as more modern and elaborate confections.
Other delights in Rome included the Pantheon and the massive monument to Victor Emmanuel that can be seen from many parts of the city. This monument contains the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and is treated with great respect by the Romans. I attended the opera one night at the Teatro Dell’Opera Di Roma just around the corner from my hotel to see a performance of Shostakovich “The Nose” based on the Gogol story of a Russian officer who awoke one day in St Petersburg to find that his nose had left his face and was developing a life of its own. The music was a mixture of styles including folk and popular song melodies and atonality but the production was not memorable.
One day I lunched at a gourmet Chinese restaurant called “Green-T” that I had seen advertised in a magazine at my hotel. Just finding the place was an adventure as I wandered in a circle for a while then asked a policeman who had to ask someone else. He could not understand my pronunciation in any event. When I finally found it the place was just a hole in the wall but the food was excellent.
Based on that experience I allowed a half day to visit the Basilica of St Cecelia in Trasteveri. I walked across the Tiber and immediately got lost in the narrow alleys where street signs are not common. Eventually I had to ask a woman for help and even though we did not have a common language I was able to follow her directions just around the block to the unmistakable travertine façade of a church built over the house where St Cecelia lived in the 2nd Century. She was martyred there and the hagiographies differ about the cause of death. Some say she was beheaded and others claim that her throat was cut. Her body was found intact and uncorrupted in 1599 and the sculptor Stefano Maderno was ordered to recreate her lifeless yet graceful body in marble. He was quite young at the time but the beautiful sculpture, displayed beneath the high altar, is considered a masterpiece of naturalistic art. The sculpture shows a young woman with her head turned on a strange angle but it is quite moving. The church also has a gilded ciborium over the high altar and a choir mural by the 13th Century artist, Pietro Cavallini as well as stunning 9th Century apse mosaics. While I was in the church there was a nun practicing on the pipe organ. This was so fitting for the musical saint.
On my last day in Rome there was rain so it was an ideal time to visit one of the many museums. I chose Palazzo Massimo Alle Terme because it was conveniently close to my hotel and it was a treasure trove. I did not spend much time in the basement coin collection preferring instead to concentrate on the ground floor exhibition of statuary and sculpture from the early Republican period with idealized portraits of emperors and other prominent Romans. There were some copies as well as Greek originals such as a moving 5th Century BC sculpture of a young woman extracting an arrow from her back. An example of a Roman copy of a Greek original was a captivating crouching Aphrodite.
For me the real treasures of this museum were the spectacular Roman paintings, mosaics and frescoes on the 2nd floor. These works were taken from Roman houses around the city and reassembled in their original layout. My favorite frescoes came from Villa Livia, the home of Augustus’ wife, depicting a Mediterranean garden filled with plants fruit and birds. One corridor was filled with breathtaking mosaics showing how this medium evolved throughout ancient Rome. I also enjoyed seeing the reconstruction of Villa Faranese which was built close to the Tiber and became uninhabitable due to rising water levels.
On 30 January I took the 10 hour train journey to Palermo. I was happy to see the countryside from the window of an old fashioned carriage with compartments. There was no dining car so I snacked on the fruit that I had with me and chatted with anyone who could speak to me in English. I was interested to find that it was not necessary to get off the train in order to cross the narrow strait to Messina in Sicily. The train simply drove on to the ferry and 20 minutes later it drove off again and carried on to Palermo.
Before leaving New Zealand I bought a rail pass for 8 days which was more than I needed as the train tracks went around the coast and not across the middle of the island. Train trips were therefore slower and less convenient than the buses. Fortunately most of my travel in Sicily was around the coast so I did not waste too much time.
In Palermo I stayed at Hotel Garibaldi right across the road from Teatro Politeama Garibaldi. The hotel receptionists were extremely helpful supplying a map of the city and directions to places of interest as well as to an extremely good restaurant just around the corner in Via Richard Wagner.
I found Teatro Massimo easily and took a tour of the theatre. It is one of the largest houses in Europe and impressive in dimensions with an enormous stage and 4 tiers of audience boxes. There was a display of Wagnerian opera costumes in the foyer. I picked up my opera tickets arranged with the help of Pietari Inkinen then came back in the evening for the performance of “Das Rhinegold”. The stage was completely bare so the audience could see things usually kept hidden such as ropes and pulleys and a metal framed lift for moving scenery up and down.
Before the conductor arrived, the stage began to fill up with people carrying clear plastic chairs that they placed precisely then sat on until the overture was completed. The people on the stage melted away leaving their chairs behind to represent the shining waters of the Rhine. The Rhine Maidens dressed as untidy schoolgirls appeared from the departing crowd and the opera began. The teasing of Alberich during that first Act was more erotic than I had seen before. Donner and Froh were portrayed as a pair of nincompoops carrying around a large hammer and a teddy bear respectively. I wonder what Wagner would have thought about it.
When the giants arrived to claim their wages Fasolt was carrying a bunch of flowers for Freia. I thought that was a nice touch. In the second act Wotan and Loge descended to Nibelheim in the lift where the slaves were pounding on computers their faces lit by the eerie glow of monitors. Later when Donner brought the storm the characters on stage opened umbrellas that were all similar except for Wotan who held a rainbow umbrella as he led the Gods into the newly completed Valhalla.
I enjoyed the production and the singing was also of a high standard. I did not think that the orchestra was as good as the NZSO especially in the brass section. I have to make special mention of the audience which chattered and walked around playing with their iPhones and slamming doors. I was quite astounded as I had not expected that from an audience in such a wonderful theatre. I remember seeing “Aida” in the arena at Verona and the audience was the same. I thought it might have been due to the informality of an outdoor venue but I was wrong. I think it is just the nature of Italian audiences. They would not get away with it in Germany.
Despite the distractions I enjoyed the evening. At the end of the performance I went to find Pietari backstage. It is the first time he has conducted a Ring Cycle and I was able to tell him that I was very pleased that I came all the way to Palermo.
One day I took the bus from Piazza Politiama near my hotel to Monreale, a hillside town justly famed for its cathedral. First I visited the cloister of the convent to see the intricately carved columns and the mosaic decorations. Despite that visit I was not prepared for the splendor of the cathedral incorporating Norman, Arab, Byzantine and classical elements. Inspired by a vision of the Virgin, it was built by William II in an effort to outdo his grandfather, Roger II, who was responsible for the cathedral in Cefalu and the Cappella Palatina in Palermo. The interior, completed in 1184, depicts many stories from the Old Testament as well as scenes from the life of Christ. The apse contained a most arresting image of Christ in shimmering mosaics. The eyes seemed to follow me around as I gaped at the magnificence of the interior. The side chapels were equally beautiful and I could have spent much longer in this place.
I took the bus back to my hotel. As I climbed aboard I asked an old man if this was the right bus and he answered in Italian that it was the correct one but I would have to change buses to get back to my hotel. I understood what he was saying rather to my surprise. A young woman who heard this exchange spoke to me in English and we had a long conversation. She had been born in Sicily (Sicilian father and Irish mother) and had her early education there. When her parents divorced she went with her mother to live in England where she had just completed her medical studies. She got off the bus with me and showed me where to wait for the next one. Her name was Livia and she reminded me of the angels that I met on the Camino several years ago.
The feast dedicated to St Agatha is among the most popular religious festivals in the world comparable with Holy Week in Seville or Corpus Christi in Cuzco. Thousands of people clogged the street outside the Duomo dedicated to the saint and they followed the procession of her relics around the town. The festivities went on for three days and began with a procession through the main street on 3 February. Heading the procession was a parade of 12 candelore, votive candles encased in ornate wooden columns and adorned with fresh flowers. The columns are tall and very heavy weighing between 400 and 900 pounds. They are carried on the shoulders of at least 6 men using a particular walk something like a loping run called a’nnacata. The candelora represent the guilds of different arts and crafts carried on in Catania. That first day each candelora was accompanied by its own group of musicians sounding like a mariachi band and playing everything from the Grand March from Aida to popular songs. The rest of the procession was made up of clergy and representatives of the military, the police, firefighters and local authorities. Also in the procession were two 18th Century coaches usually displayed in the City Hall. The Mayor and other dignitaries were transported to church in these coaches on that day.
On 4 and 5 February the reliquary was removed from the chapel where it is usually kept, taken to the High Altar then carried outside to be placed on the special cart (in dialect “vara”) which is nowadays fitted with wheels but in earlier times it slid along the road on skis. There is a tradition of burning candles so that the wax dripped on to the lava cobblestones making it easier for the devotees to drag the vara up the hill on Via Etna. The cart that I saw was constructed in 1946 (silver on a wooden frame) because the previous one was severely damaged during WWII bombing on 17 April 1943.
The reliquary bust is also made of silver and lavishly decorated with jewellery and votive offerings. The crown on the head of Agatha was the gift of Richard the Lion-Heart as he passed through Catania on his way home from the Crusades. As the bust was reverently carried out of the cathedral and placed on the “vara” people waved white handkerchiefs and called out words of welcome to St Agatha.
Hundreds of devotees dressed in the traditional white “sacco” and black cap pulled the “vara” through the streets stopping at various churches and nerving themselves for the long pull to the top of the hill on Via Etna. If this feat could be managed in one pull it was a good omen for the coming year.
Each evening the procession ended after dark with a spectacular fireworks display. The whole occasion seemed to be good humoured and even though the crowd was so thick that I could not raise my hands to take photos of the fireworks. I am sure that some of the devotees got almost no sleep during the festival as they were up partying each night and they attended mass at dawn the following day.
My six day visit to Catania coincided with the celebration of the Feast of St Agatha, the local patron saint. I had never heard of her before my visit but it was immediately clear that she is the object of great devotion in that city. I arrived by train and stayed at the Novocento Hotel where the staff members created a family atmosphere. Some of them at least were related to each other and they were all friendly and helpful.
The hotel served a good breakfast but not always dinners except during the festival. When I arrived there was a very jolly bunch of Dutch visitors and it turned out that one of their number was celebrating his 70th birthday on St Agatha’s Day so some of his family and friends decided to accompany him to Catania for the occasion. They had special T shirts printed and wore these most days. Such a good idea.
Catania is the second commercial city with a large university and a population of about 296,000 people. It is a true city of the volcano. Much of it has been constructed from the black lava that poured down from Mt Etna in 1699 engulfing the city and taking 12,000 lives. It is also lava-black in colour as if a fine dusting of soot covers its elegant buildings. I was told that the city administrators paid a lot of money several years ago to have the Teatro Bellini cleaned to its pristine whiteness but it soon looked dirty again.
Catania’s central square known as Piazza Del Duomo is a UNESCO World heritage site with beautiful buildings and a grand cathedral all built in the local baroque style with contrasting lava and limestone. The cathedral has an impressive marble façade and a big door that is opened only during the festival. Inside the cool vaulted interior lie the remains of the young virgin, Agatha, who resisted the advances of the villainous Quintian and was horribly mutilated dying in her prison cell before she could be subjected to further torture. Also in the cathedral is the tomb of composer Vincenzo Bellini, the father of Catania’s vibrant modern musical scene.
In the Piazza del Duomo is Catania’s most memorable monument and a symbol of the city, the Fontana dell’Elefante. The origins of the black elephant are unknown but it may have been built when Catania was under Byzantine or Carthaginian domination,. It is on record within the city walls in the 12th century. It is made out of a single block of lava but after being damaged in the earthquake of 1693 it was repaired and white limestone tusks were added. On the back of the elephant is an Egyptian obelisk topped by a globe which in turn is crowned by a palm leaf representing martyrdom and a bunch of lilies representing purity.
In a corner of the piazza is the Fontana Dell’Amenano built in 1867 from Carrara marble by artist Tito Angelini. The work represents the River Amenano as a young man holding a cornucopia from which flows the water into a tank below. Behind the fountain there are lava stone steps leading to the local market. When I was there the market was abundantly supplied with local oranges, fennel and artichokes as well as cheeses, meat and fish. It is always a delight to see the good things of the earth piled up in quantity.
Catania offered many delights. I went to a concert in the Teatro Bellini near my hotel to hear a small orchestra playing the Siegfried Idyll and Mahler’s 4th Symphony. I was allocated a seat near the ceiling but the acoustics were good and I could see everything that was going on. I hung out in the lovely Bellini Garden where children in fancy costumes for the festival threw confetti at each other and consumed candy floss in vast quantities. There was a good view of the gently steaming Mt Etna from the Garden. I spent an afternoon in the Orsini Museum.
I tried the local delicacies such as “arancino”, a baked breaded ball of rice coloured with saffron and filled with cheese, meat, eggplant or pistachio, and found it good but not superb. I also tried out a special cookie made in honour of St Agatha covered in white frosting with a cherry on top. It was filled with a sweet custard and I did not care for the texture and the flavor was just too sweet for me.
By contrast I went to a neighborhood eating place called Trattoria di De Fiori near my hotel. The kitchen was under the management of a septuagenarian chef, Mamma Rosanna, who used the best local produce to recreate her great-grandmother’s recipes. Her pasta alla Norma was simply the best and she explained that the dish is made in honour of Mt Etna --- tomatoes were the red lava, eggplant the black cinders, ricotta the snow and basil leaves the mountain vegetation. It was so good that I went there three times. I almost became a member of the family.
I met Barbara at Palermo Airport on 8 February and we drove to Agrigento arriving in the dark so we could not appreciate the scenery. In the morning the shutters were opened and there amongst the almond blossoms stood a line of ruined temples. Although we could only see one of them from the window we saw others as we moved to the restaurant.
It was a beautiful day for looking at scenery so we decided to go to Piazza Amerina to see the 3rd Century Villa Romana del Casale, a UNESCO World Heritage site and one of the few remaining Roman sites in Sicily. This sumptuous hunting lodge is said to have belonged to Diocletian’s co emperor, Marcus Aurelius Maximianus. The complex of buildings was used from Roman until medieval times. It was buried under mud deposited in a flood in the 12th Century. It was rediscovered in the 1950s and since then has been carefully restored. Visitors now walk along ramps above the 3500 square metres of mosaic floors. The mosaics are considered unique for their narrative style, the range of subject matter and the variety of colours used. There are sophisticated tromp de l’ oeuil borders, there is a whole corridor of animal pictures depicted in hunting scenes. The animals include rhinos, cheetas, lions and the beautiful Queen of Sheba herself. Across the corridor are rooms with floor mosaics depicting scenes from Homer. I was captivated by the room of ten girls in bikinis showing scantily clad women engaged in various kinds of athletic activities …. throwing a discus, using weights and throwing a ball. They would blend in well on any beach in New Zealand.
Apart from the mosaics we noticed the well preserved bath house and the spacious arrangements that could still be seen despite some modifications to the complex during the medieval period.
From Mosaics to Modica where we visited the oldest chocolate factory in Sicily. All kinds of flavours were available from orange to cardamom with or without nougat. We also tasted wonderful icecream at a neighbouring town called Ragusa. We ate at an unremarkable place after getting lost in the narrow streets of Modica. We were very happy to get back on to the autostrada and head for our hotel.
We remarked several times about the sophisticated road network. In more prosperous times a great deal of time and money has been spent to construct bridges and viaducts over valleys. There were narrow country roads as well as we discovered with an ample supply of potholes. When we took the signora on the GPS with a grain of salt we did not get mixed up in those places so much.
On Barbara’s second day we walked to the nearby town of Agrigento to see a parade through the streets in honour of the almonds that are grown in abundance in this area. This annual event takes place when the trees are in blossom and there are clouds of fluffy white in all the orchards. Associated with the festival is a folk dancing competition held in the nearby Valley of Temples so the parade included people in costumes from many parts of Italy as well as Korea, Russia and India. It was extremely colourful and everyone had a good time despite the lowering skies.
The parade began with a military band followed by groups of drummers and flag wavers. After the many competitors for the folk festival came the traditional Sicilian carts decorated with scenes from the Bible or from local history and bringing up the rear were men on horseback. The streets were lined with onlookers who clapped and cheered. The parade passed slowly as many of the folkdancers paused to demonstrate their skills.
Once it was over Barbara and I walked down to the entrance of the Valley of the Temples. There was a free entry on that day so we wandered about looking at the remains of a row of 9 temples dedicated to various deities arranged along a clifftop above the port town of Gela. It must have been amazing for sailors returning from voyages all around the Mediterranean to see those temples lit up at night and emerging from the sea.
Mt Etna is an active volcano dominating the landscape of eastern Sicily. It stands 3329m above sea level and is the largest volcano in Europe as well as being one of the most active in the world with frequent eruptions both from its four summit craters and from its slopes. The most devastating eruption happened in 1669 when lava poured down the southern slope engulfing much of Catania and dramatically altering the landscape. That eruption lasted 122 days. In addition there are frequent earthquakes associated with volcanic activity. There was another big eruption in 2002 that was not so devastating but nevertheless the lava flows caused an explosion in Sapienza , destroying two buildings and temporarily halting the chairlift. Less destructive eruptions have occurred regularly since 2002 with a dramatic display of a lava fountain in 2011.
It was a gloomy day when we visited and it felt like the return of winter. Icy fog covered the mountain as we drove up to the Rifugio Sapienza at 1923 m. We met a snow plough coming down the mountain towards us. There was fresh powdery snow as we walked into the restaurant where there was a display of many photos of the different moods of the volcano. The assistant in the postcard shop mentioned that there was an explosion in one of the summit craters just three days before our visit. There was no view from Sapienza due to the low clouds so we did not stay long.
We drove back to Palermo on the inland route noticing the small villages on high rocky outcrops as well as orange trees laden with fruit and more almond blossom. We stayed in a hotel near the airport so that Barbara could take her early morning flight back to UK.
On a rainy morning the hotel courtesy car dropped me at the local train station and I made my way to Syracuse. The south east of Sicily is a region of river valleys, olive groves and orchards. Laden orange trees beckoned as I sped by. Settled by colonists from Corinth in 734 BC Syracuse was considered to be the most beautiful city of the ancient world, rivaling Athens in power and prestige. During the reign of Dionysius the Elder, the city reached its zenith attracting such luminaries as Livy, Plato, Aeschylus and Archimedes. When the influence of Greece waned Syracuse became a Roman colony and many of it treasures were looted. Its theatre was mined for building materials.
Today with EU funding many of the derelict landmarks and ancient buildings lining the narrow streets are being sensitively restored. The ancient island neighbourhood of Ortygia with its labyrinth of narrow alleys and attractive waterfront is still a tourist magnet. I found plenty to see and do during my three day visit.
I stayed at Hotel Coloniali near the train and bus station. The receptionist suggested that I would get a good dinner at a particular restaurant on the island where I was to send many hours admiring the sights.
There were many evidences of Greek culture but one of the most obvious was in the construction of the Cathedral where the baroque veneer barely disguises the Temple of Athena that stood on that site before the town was evangelized by St Paul. The huge 5th century BC Doric columns are still visible both inside and out.
At the far end of the piazza from the cathedral I visited another church to see the Caravaggio painting of the burial of St Lucia. She is the patron saint of Syracuse and the painting was the first to be created by Caravaggio in Sicily. He landed in Syracuse after escaping from Malta in October 1608 and this picture was ready for the feast day on 13 December of that same year. It is a dark picture showing the lifeless body of the saint in what appears to be a catacomb. The detail in the picture is confined to the lower half of the canvas and the only colour is the red shawl worn by one of the mourners. It was a dramatic and moving image.
I walked around the island visiting the ancient spring that provided the town’s main water supply. Known at the Aretusa Fountain it is populated today by ducks and papyrus but according to legend, Artemis turned her beautiful handmaiden into a spring to protect her from the unwelcome attentions of the River God Alphaeus.
I got lost in the tangled maze of streets in the old Jewish quarter but saw people swimming in the harbor and visited the local art gallery. Later on the mainland I spent 5 hours at the Paolo Orsi Museum named for the archaeologist who excavated many tombs in this region from Ragusa and Noto to Catania. The museum was very well organized and I followed a clearly marked route from the entrance to the exit. Ideally I would have returned there several times if my itinerary had permitted.
Paolo Orsi spent many years looking for the Temple of Demeter that he expected to find in Syracuse but it was not until the foundations were being laid for a new church across the road from the museum that the remains of that temple were found. Ina touch of irony the new church dedicated to the Virgin has been built over the remains of a temple to the Great Mother Goddess of ancient times.
Next to the Paolo Orsi Museum was a museum of papyrus but by the time I arrived it was closed. Similarly the Catacombe di San Giovanni was closed so I continued up the road to the Parco Archaeologico della Neapolis where a large pearly white Greek theatre was hewn out of the rock above the city. Some of the later plays written by Aeschylus were performed here in his presence. The theatre is still used for summer performances with an annual season of classical theatre.
Just beside the theatre are the deep limestone quarries where the stone for the ancient city was mined. The quarries are riddled with catacombs and these days there are olive and magnolia trees. In 413 BC there were 7000 survivors of the war between Athens and Syracuse imprisoned there. A grotto in this area was named by Caravaggio “Orrechio di Dionisio” (Ear of Dionysis) after the tyrant who is said to have used the almost perfect acoustics of the quarry to eavesdrop on his prisoners.
While I was in Syracuse I met an interesting couple from Vienna. She wanted to spend two weeks in the Paolo Orsi museum because of her professional interest in the restoration of documents. We had long chats about travel and history and it was delightful to find some kindred spirits along the way.
Noto is another of the towns that was devastated in the earthquake of 1693 along with Modica and Ragusa. It has been grandly rebuilt and is now a UNESCO World Heritage site because of the many baroque buildings, the work of Rosario Gagliardi and his assistant Vincenzo Sinatra. They were also active in Ragusa and Modica.
I stayed in the Hotel della Ferla near the train station. It is a friendly family run hotel in a residential area but it was an uphill walk to the town. I got lost trying to take a shortcut. I walked the length of the main street visiting the Town Hall (Palazzo Ducezio) once an elegant town house and the San Nicolo Cathedral.
In the Town Hall there was a hall of splendid baroque framed mirrors and an intricately painted ceiling. The woman who sold me a ticket assured me that the ceiling was flat but the skill of the painter made it look as though it had a dome. I stared at it until my neck got stiff but I could not see that it was flat. Just down the road was the Teatro Communale with a seating capacity of 350. It was very compact but elegant and is regularly used for concerts and theatrical performances.
Around the block I found the beautifully restored Palazzo Nicolaci di Villadorata where wrought iron balconies are supported by fantastic mythical creatures. The palace has been stripped of furnishings but the richly brocaded walls, tiled floors and frescoed ceilings gave some notice of the luxurious lifestyle of Sicilian noble families. The ballroom was lit by chandeliers and the painted walls gave the illusion of being outside.
Due to the low season many of Noto’s restaurants were closed. The famous icecream place was also closed. I found a restaurant at last and had a pleasant conversation with another woman travelling alone. Generally, although it was pretty I found that Noto was in hibernation.
I travelled by train arriving at a gingerbread station below the hillside town of Taormina. The station had green wrought iron trimmings against a cream coloured timber cladding and a spectacularly painted ceiling in the waiting room. Someone told me that it was used for filming some scenes in the movie Godfather III. I had to take a taxi to my hotel as the town is perched on a terrace of Monte Tauro with views west towards Mt Etna. Technically the town where the railway station is situated is called Naxos. This was the first Greek colony on Sicily. The site chosen for that town has been occupied since the Neolithic period.
Taormina was the capital of Sicily in the Byzantine period during the 9th Century and is a well preserved medieval town. Over the centuries it has attracted writers, artists, aristocrats and royalty and these days it hosts a summer festival that packs the town with tourists. I was very happy to be there during the low season.
I stayed at Hotel Belvedere chosen from the internet for the promise of spectacular views. I was concerned to receive an email to the effect that the hotel was under renovation and I would be allocated an apartment a short distance from the main hotel. I arrived to find scaffolding around the building and workmen carrying lumber to and fro. In the tarpaulin draped reception area there were irritatingly loud sounds of drilling and hammering. Then I met the delightful Maria who insisted on carrying my bag to the apartment where she explained how everything worked. There would be no breakfast service but the apartment had a kitchenette and everything that I would need.
The view was simply fanatastic. I could see the sunrise in the morning and there was an uninterrupted view of Mt Etna. I could see the town by the sea, the Neolithic area and the misty blue horizon. I shopped locally for cheese, ham, bread and tomatoes as well as pears and oranges. I could have spent the whole time sitting on that balcony but the weather did not co operate.
It was an easy walk to the shopping area through the lovely public garden. Eventually I found the famous Greek theatre tucked away on the hillside behind the main street. Constructed in the 3rd Century BC the horseshoe shaped theatre is dramatically suspended between the sea and the sky with Mt Etna looming behind the stage. According to the Guidebook it is the most dramatically situated Greek theatre in the world and the second largest in Sicily (after Syracuse). In summer it is used for international arts and film festivals.
The medieval main street in Taormina has lots of boutique shops but I was more interested in the Cathedral. There was an ornate baroque fountain and the church itself built in the 13th century and given a lot of attention by 15th Century Spanish remodelers. There was a good view of Etna midway along the main street. The town gate at one end of the street opens to excellent views along the coast. At the other end there were some cafes populated mostly by male couples. I met an Australian girl as I was taking a hot chocolate and we had a general chat about the delights of Taormina.
Just past the café I discovered a memorial plaque for those civilians who died during an air raid by USAF on 9 July 1943. Coincidentally this was the same date that the USA bombed Mallarme Airport on Crete.
The Villa Communale is the well sited public gardens created by an Englishwoman, Florence Trevelyan. The gardens have a view seawards and are a lush paradise of tropical plants and delicate flowers although it was a little early in the spring for me to see them at their best. In the garden there was a War Memorial honouring those who made the supreme sacrifice in two world wars.
Another interesting war memorial was a “human torpedo” used by the Italian Navy in WWII in order to harry Allied shipping. The torpedo was used successfully on 18 December 1941 to sink two British ships, the “Queen Elizabeth” and the “Valiant”, at the port of Alexandria. One or two men had to ride the torpedo and guide it into position then swim away before the explosion. A plaque in Italian, English and German recorded that a local man, Salvatore Leone, was ordered to ride one of these devices into the port at Gibraltar to participate in the attack on a British aircraft carrier, the “Furious”. The attack failed and Sgt Leone’s body was never recovered. He was decorated posthumously and the memorial was set up on the fiftieth anniversary of his death.
I took the train to Cefalu changing at Messina and arriving mid afternoon. I arrived later than expected due to missing the stop and having to double back. I walked to the hotel where I once again had a small apartment. This one was quite different from Taormina but very conveniently placed close to the cathedral and the main square. There was a good restaurant next door and I was able to buy breakfast things nearby. On my first morning my attention was attracted by a man selling vegetables from the back of a small truck. He called out his wares and the sound immediately took me back to Auckland in the 1950s when the paper boys would call out to attract the attention of passersby.
Cefalu was very compact with just a main street but there was still plenty to see. The town is a holiday resort but I did not go to the beach. The imposing Cathedral has wonderful mosaic decorations placing it alongside the Cathedral at Monreale and the Palatine Chapel in Palermo. The apse holds a towering figure of Christ Pantocrator. This is the focal point of all the other decorations. The Cathedral, built in front of a steep cliff has twin pyramid towers that clearly identify it as a Norman construction. In front of the Cathedral is the Piazza del Duomo with the usual cafes and souvenir shops.
In a side street I found an art gallery and looming over the town the craggy mass of La Rocca can be accessed via a steep staircase, Salita Saraceno, that winds upward through three tiers of city walls. It took me the best part of an hour to huff and puff my way up there and I did not even reach the summit where there is a ruined castle. Legend has it that the first inhabitants of Sicily were giants so perhaps this was their home. The original town was a fish market but when the Romans withdrew the people found that they were subjected to raids by pirates. They moved to the safety of La Rocca and their homes and a church are still visible. There is also a more ancient Tempio di Diana which was also used as a church at one stage. There are stunning views from the top of La Rocca.
I met a couple from USA. The husband had been born in Sicily but he moved to USA with his parents at age 15 years. He still has family in Sicily living near Taormina. They told me that the night after I left Taormina Mt Etna had a spectacular eruption. I am not sure whether to be sad or happy that I missed this performance.
Another train trip brought me back to Palermo. After a short taxi ride I was back at Hotel Garibaldi to freshen up before the opera. I walked down the road to Teatro Massimo and was once again impressed by the enormous neoclassical landmark. It took over 20 years to complete the building but it is now an icon of Palermo. Several scenes from “The Godfather III” were filmed here. I bought two bunches of yellow freesias from the street stall and gave these to the theatre attendants … one for Pietari Inkinen and the other for Simon O’Neill
The opening scene was Hunding's spartan house. During the overture there was a non singing action sequence showing a bride, Sieglinde, being carried into the house tied to a chair by the drunken friends of the groom. The chair is hoisted on to a table while the friends caper about. Eventually they untie the bride and the groom takes hold of the rope and thumps it against the table a number of times while the bride tries to evade the blows while at the same time suffering the insults of the drunken mates who try to look up her dress and touch her. Suddenly an old man appears with a sword which he thrust into a conveniently located tree. After some unsuccessful attempts to remove the sword the groom carried the bride into the bedroom and the guests melt away into the night.
Of course I knew that Hunding was a violent bully but I had not seen it made so explicit as this. The violence theme continued when Siegmund appeared and Hunding arrived home with a chain in his hand. He thumped the chain around to emphasise his points then removed his leather jacket to reveal a white singlet and tattooed arms reminiscent of Marlon Brando in "Streetcar Named Desire". The effect was electrifying.
Another wonderful production effect was when Brunhilde appeared riding a horse that was of course not a real animal but a shirtless man carrying a metal legged chair. She sat astride his right shoulder so that his head was in the position that you would expect to see a horse's head. He was a magnificent physical specimen and did not appear to get tired or feel any strain at all. He moved his head as you might expect of a horse and continued to move in this way the whole time he was on the stage. The chair was used to allow her to climb up into the riding position and she sat on it sometimes and the horse also sat on it depending on the requirements of the action.
The scene where Wotan tells Brunhilde his plans was a woodland scene with a rusty old caravan where he was staying during one of his absences from Valhalla. Fricke appeared wearing a brown plaid kilted skirt and brown padded jacket carrying a handbag and wearing a scarf over her head looking exactly like Queen Elizabeth out for a stroll. She even had that hairstyle.
When Brunhilde was put to sleep she was stripped to her bra and panties and put into a body bag. Loge appeared on cue wearing red pants and jacket with a red pork pie hat. He lit the fire and a large number of his cohorts appeared all similarly dressed in red. They sat on chairs in a circle around the body bag then the whole stage revolved.
Brunhilde was played by a willowy sprite from San Francisco. I met her mother and we agreed that the singer (Lisa Lindstrom) had done a marvellous job. The other voices were all good but the big disappointment for me was that Simon O'Neill was not there. The role of Siegmund was played by John Treleaven who I have heard before. I never founds out what happened to prevent the appearance of Simon O’Neill.
The orchestra performed just as poorly as in Rhinegold. I was left with the uncomfortable impression that the brass section was far from secure and that they might hit the right notes ... Or they might not. The woodwinds were a lot better and performed well in the exposed passages. The surtitles were in Italian of course so I was relieved of the distraction of having to follow them. Every time I see a "Ring" I know the libretto better so I did not miss them. The audience was just as restless as before. Perhaps I was the only one to notice.
After the performance I went to the stage door to greet Pietari Inkinen again but he was meeting friends so we did not get the chance to talk. I will not be able to attend the other two operas in the cycle. As usual I enjoyed the experience so much that I am now thinking about the next time that I can see “Der Ring”.
I had more time to look around the city on this second visit. Palermo is an extraordinary mixture of cultural influences arising out of its history. After the departure of the Romans, Sicily’s trade, farming and mining were fostered under Arab influence. The Normans invaded in 1061and Palermo became the capital and the finest city in the Mediterranean.
The Pope appointed King Roger to rule over Sicily and he adopted an extravagant lifestyle spending a vast fortune on palaces and churches. After the Norman line was extinguished Sicily was passed to the German House of Hohenstaufen and subsequently to the Holy Roman Emperor followed by the Angevins (French), the Aragonese (Spanish) and Austrians during centuries of turmoil until the Spanish Bourbons united Sicily and Naples in 1734 as the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies.
The ordinary population was poverty stricken and many emigrated to the New World before WWI. Crime and corruption continued to weaken Sicily after the carpet bombing devastation of the port area of Palermo in 1942. It took such a long time to reconstruct Palermo that when Mother Teresa of Calcutta visited the crumbling suburbs and set up a mission to alleviate the poverty that she saw, the embarrassed authorities made more funds available for urban renewal.
Via Marqueda is the main street running from the railway station to the new leafy suburbs of the northern part of Palermo. The busy intersection of Via Marqueda and Corso Vittorio Emmanuel is known as the Quattro Canti, the civic heart of the city. I walked to the Cathedral past this intersection and was amazed at the complexity and variety of architectural wizardry displayed there. The cathedral houses the tombs of the Norman kings and some of the treasure associated with their reigns. Unfortunately the Treasury was closed during my visit.
Across the road was the Diocesan Museum which kept me enthralled for some hours looking at ecclesiastical robes and so on. I felt overwhelmed by the amount of material on display and although it was all very interesting there was a point at which I ceased to take it in.
I took the bus from near my hotel to Piazza Indipendenza to see the Palatine Chapel in the Palazzo dei Normanni, an austere fortified palace that was once the centre of a magnificent medieval court. It is still in use today as the seat of the Sicilian parliament. The government officials generously vacate the building on four days a week allowing visitors access to the parliamentary chambers and to the former royal apartments.
The audio guide in English led me around the building to see the Hercules Room which is now the debating chamber of parliament. The walls are decorated with scenes from the life of Hercules. I admired another room filled with portraits of ambassadors and other dignitaries. The Sala di Ruggero II had been thought to be the king’s bedroom but today it is considered that the sumptuous decorations are not restful enough for sleeping but were more likely to have decorated a games room.
Palermo’s premier tourist attraction is the chapel on the middle level of the palace’s loggia. The Palatine Chapel was designed by Roger II in 1130. After extensive renovation completed in 2008 the public now has the opportunity to see the walls covered with shimmering golden mosaics recounting tales of Old and New Testaments capturing expression, detail and movement with extraordinary grace. The floor has inlaid marble patterns and the ceiling is an amazing honeycomb of carving in the Arab style. Roger II was proud of the fact that the chapel was built using the skills of Jewish, Christian and Moslem craftsmen. I know that I would have to visit many times in order to fully appreciate the work that has gone into the creation of this jewel.
There were many other things that I wanted to see but having spent time in the Palatine Chapel I feel well satisfied that I have seen something really important. Moreover I felt that the Chapel was better than the experience at Cefalu and better than Monreale.
After the long return trip to Rome I had a day to make some last visits. Unfortunately it was a Monday so the museums that I had waited to see were not open. That is surely another good reason to come back so I expect that the coin in the Trevi Fountain will be a good investment.
I set off walking from my hotel to the basilica of Santa Maria Maggiorre. In 352 the Virgin Mary told Pope Liberius in a dream to build a church on the spot where the next snow fell. Sure enough the following morning (5 August in the middle of the summer heat) snow fell on the summit of the Esquiline Hill and Liberius carried out the instruction to build a church. He called it Santa Maria della Neve and it was later renamed Santa Maria Maggiore. The miracle is commemorated at the church each year when the congregation is showered with white flower petals released from the ceiling.
The interior is generously proportioned and richly decorated and there were lots of people walking around and chatting while mass was being said in a side chapel. This is the church where the new Pope Francis appeared unannounced to pray on the first day of his papacy. There is a marble slab near the altar marking the tomb of Bernini whose work enhances so many other churches.
I walked on to St John Lateran, founded by Constantine in the 4th Century. This is the first Christian basilica built in Rome and is the pope’s seat as Bishop of Rome. Many artists have contributed to the building that I visited and it has been substantially rebuilt and renovated through the ages so that today the patchwork of styles come together successfully in a beautiful whole.
There are marvellous mosaic floors inlaid in the 15th Century with marble salvaged from derelict Roman churches. There are many stories and legends about such a venerable spot. One is that the monument to Sylvester II is said to sweat and emit the sounds of creaking bones when the death of a pope is imminent. There were no such signs during my visit.
It was raining as I left the church to return to my hotel. The temperature had dropped so I stopped along the road for a hot drink. Without any language in common the sales assistant talked me into trying some Strudel. It was delicious and no further words were needed.
Prior to my arrival in Glasgow on the afternoon of 13 June, I had arranged to meet Maureen and Nick Sier the following day on the Isle of Arran. This turned out to be quite an exercise as Barbara was having dental treatment and could not miss her appointment. I took a taxi to Johnstone Railway Station then the train to Ardrossan Harbour then a ferry to Brodick. The return trip cost a little over 17GBP (as I was using the off peak fare) but was quite scenic.
The train passed fields where the hedgerows of May in full flower made trails of white amidst the lush green countryside. May is the common name of a plant called horse chestnut and although it looks pretty the smell is awful. There are many stories about May including the old saying in dialect that is translated to something like “Do not take off your coat until the May is out” in other words it is too cool to wear light clothing until the May is in flower. The fact that it is in full flower now in mid June is an indication of the slow start to the summer here. I hope it will be equally slow to leave.
The ferry operated naturally by MacBraynes carried passengers as well as vehicles. The trip was smooth but as we approached the island I could see that the clouds were down over Goat Fell and things looked rather grey. As we docked I could see Maureen and Nick waiting on the wharf but it took a few minutes for the foot passengers to be allowed off the ferry. At last there were hugs all around as I was introduced to their friends Rita and Hari. We piled into the car and the first stop was the local cemetery where we paid our respects to a local Baha’i, Mary Davies. She was a relatively new believer at the time of her passing and was aged over 90 years.
We lunched in Lamlash where I was surprised to see cabbage trees on the main road and in gardens. I have seen these iconic New Zealand trees in Plockton and also in the Scottish National Trust Garden in Galloway. We stopped by a small wharf where the boats for the Holy Isle come ashore. The island was important in the history of Christianity in this area but it is now owned by a Buddhist organisation and it is used for retreats and study classes.
Time was limited so we spent some time at the Arran Country Museum where new managers are tidying up the gardens and undertaking new planting. I enjoyed looking at the exhibits about the Clearances in this area and the stories of the emigration of many Scots to Australia, Canada and New Zealand. Apart from a display of antique farm equipment the museum had a well organised model of a crofter’s cottage complete with spinning wheel and recessed bed.
We were left with very little time to visit Arran Aromatics nearby. This business was started in 1989 when members of the Russell family purchased a derelict farm property and established a factory using the finest local ingredients to make a range of luxury bath and skin care articles. The business has been very successful and its location next to a restaurant makes it a popular tourist destination.
I was sorry to leave Arran so quickly. The island is a mere 20 miles long and 10 miles wide. As a matter of practical reality it is desirable to have a vehicle in order to travel around. The purpose of this visit was to see friends but next time I would like to see the standing stones at Machrie. The location requires a drive then a walk of about 40 minutes to reach the site. I am hoping to make another visit to see the sights before returning to New Zealand in September.
The West End Festival is held in the western suburbs of Glasgow and this year is the 18th birthday of this large multi cultural event. The 400 festival events spread over 30 days offered a huge range of concerts and activities. Due to lack of time we were able to attend only a few of the many that were on offer but it was obvious that the festival has huge support.
Over the weekend of 15 and 16 June Kelvingrove Park was transformed into an extravaganza of music, dance, exotic food and eclectic stalls. We walked around the park and tried some of the food but it was drizzling with rain and not a comfortable time to sit outside. Large numbers of people of all ages watched performances on three stages. The crowd was good humoured although there was a heavy police presence. Once again I was impressed with the many indications multi cultural influence in Glasgow.
In addition to the Mela, Barbara and I attended an amateur concert called Opera Gems where the Strathaven Choral Society performed with the Glasgow Symphony Orchestra in honour of the bicentenaries of Wagner and Verdi. The programme included opera choruses by both composers and the last movement of Cesar Franck’s only symphony. The programme ended with an energetic reading of the “Polovtsian Dances” from the opera “Prince Igor” by Borodin.
The concert was held in St Mary’s Cathedral which is notable for having the same design as the ill fated Christchurch Cathedral. The acoustics were good but the internal columns made it difficult to see what was going on.
We also went to a concert by Russkaya Cappella which is Scotland’s Russian Choir. The choir was well trained and produced a sound quite unlike anything that was familiar from the English choral tradition. I am more accustomed to hearing the melody carried by the higher voices but in Russian music the basses are much more prominent. The sound was therefore distinctively different and interesting. The concert programme paid tribute to the 400th anniversary of the founding of Russia’s ruling house through national anthem, patriotic chorus and sacred music.
Attracted by the idea of participating in a traditional women’s activity we attended a demonstration of the hand finishing of a length of woven fabric and found a treasure trove of knowledge. The event was held in a hall in the suburb of Partick and I felt that it did not attract the attention that it richly deserved.
When Barbara and I visited the Isle of Harris back in 2007 we made a point of hunting for the traditional weavers. Eventually I chose several skirt lengths in different colours made by a weaver in Luskintyre. We learned that the ancient skills had all but died out and there are now very few still working. Much of the variety of colour and pattern has been lost as the weavers sell their cloth to the mills (that also supply the yarn) and the market is interested in only a limited range. The mills finish the cloth these days but in earlier times the women of the community would do the finishing together in the same way that they worked together in quilting bees in other parts of the world. Weaving was usually done by men but the women did the fulling or thickening of the cloth by hand in sessions that could last for a number of hours depending on the length of the cloth or the thickness required.
In traditional times the women would sing, gossip and tell stories at the work table. These activities have been recreated today by a group of Gaelic speaking women in Partick. The group formed in 1989 call themselves BANNAL. Many of these women have fine singing voices and they encouraged the small audience to join in. The songs ORAIN LUADHAIDH or ORAIN LUAIDH range over many subjects and moods from proud, sad, joyful, satirical and humorous. They were all characterised by compelling rhythms and the phenomenal energy of the participants as they beat the wet cloth on a wooden table. I joined them for about 30 minutes before my upper arms became very tired.
I found myself sitting next to a young woman who was a member of the group. She led the singing of one of the Gaelic songs and I asked her if she learned the language during childhood. Although the Gaelic language is spoken in only a few areas now there is a strong effort under way to revive it. About half of the women in the group were native speakers but the one next to me did not learn any of it until she was a university student. There is a Gaelic school in Partick where children are taught in that language so it is clear that people are interested in their cultural roots.
On the other side of my seat was a much older woman (in her 90s) called Chrissie MacInnes who came from Luskintyre. She is an expert in all aspects of spinning, weaving and dyeing and was happy to demonstrate the skills that she leaned from her mother. I told her about my visit to Luskintyre and she knew the weaver who had sold the cloth to me all those years ago.
I was impressed that the waulking the tweed did not just deal with finishing the cloth but also stimulated interest in other skills as well as helping to revive the Gaelic language through songs and conversation.
We chose to move on from the waulking to another fabric related display at Kelvin Stevenson Memorial Church. The dark blue colour of indigo has fascinated artists throughout the centuries and has been used by a group of six women based in Central Scotland to explore various kinds of fabric art. This was their first exhibition and they called it “Indigo” after the colour that they had used in various ways to dye the fabric for their work. The exhibition included wall hangings, pieced quilts and appliqué along with some soft toys and embroidery. Barbara loved a series of four small pictures using a variety of techniques to illustrate the night sky in different localities. There was one piece showing the instantly recognisable Glasgow skyline and another called Simmer Dim referring to the midnight light in Shetland. I particularly liked the pieces where the fabric had been stitched in various patterns before being immersed the in the dye. I greatly enjoyed seeing all these ideas and I hope to try out something like this one day.
The weather was more settled on 16 June so we joined two groups walking around Glasgow as part of the Festival. The first was a family oriented storytelling nature walk from Kelvingrove Museum along the River Kelvin to the Woodlands Community Garden. We looked at plants and learned about their use in magic and story. We listened to fairy stories told by the enthusiastic young leaders of the walk who had created a special banner for the occasion.
The underlying agenda for this walk was about creative recycling and environmental protection. Once we reached the Community Garden we were able to inspect the lovely planting and to enjoy a cup of tea. A fairy on stilts met us at the gate and she told lots of stories as well. She told us that she was actually Australian and had been in Glasgow only 9 months.
The second walk was even more interesting but it meant that we could not stay long at the garden to join in other activities. The Glasgow Garnethill Women’s Heritage Walk began at the corner of Sauchiehall and Rose Streets and moved into the area known as Garnethill, said to be named after an early resident of the area, Thomas Garnett (1766-1802). In 1796 he was appointed Professor of Natural Philosophy at the new and progressive Anderson’s Institution, “the first regular institution in which the fair sex have been admitted to the temple of knowledge on the same footing as men”. Half the students at his popular lectures were women and in his words they represented “an era in the annals of female education which posterity may contemplate with peculiar pleasure.”
Around 1900 Glasgow was the Second City of the Empire where upmarket department stores competed with each other with splendid displays, tearooms and even orchestras to entice female patrons. Shopping was no longer a necessity but had become a pleasurable leisure activity. Copland and Lye at 165 Sauchiehall Street offered the latest Paris fashions. The palatial Pettigrew and Stephens shop was Scotland’s largest department store. Both buildings have now been demolished but our guide was able to point out the building that housed Daly’s at 199 Sauchiehall Street known as the “Harrods of the North” and the now forlorn McLellan Galleries where Trerons’ Magasin des Tuileries promised “Paris in Glasgow”. These grand shops declined due to difficult economic circumstances after WW I and the competition from chain stores such as Woolworths.
Also in 1903 Miss Kate Cranston opened a tea room in Sauchiehall Street where women could refresh themselves in a genteel atmosphere after their arduous shopping trips. Miss Cranston engaged Charles Rennie Mackintosh and his wife Margaret Macdonald to design the interior decoration for the tearooms. The business was successful and further tearooms were opened in other streets in Glasgow.
From the 1920s, Garnethill developed into a leafy suburb of detached villas, tenements and terrace houses. Although the suburb was in decline by the 1970s, Garnethill Park was developed through the energy and enthusiasm of “Battling” Betty Brown. As Chair of the Garnethill Community Council, she organised groups to recycle masonry from skips and demolished buildings for the park which was opened by Princess Diana in 1991.
We passed an obscure building where the first home of the Glasgow Women’s Library was located. GWL grew out of a grass roots project to promote the work of women artists. It quickly outgrew the original premises and now employs 14 paid staff in its new home at the former Bridgeton Library. Denise Mina studied law as a mature student. Instead of writing a PhD thesis she attended a writers’ course at GWL and "Garnethill" published in 1999 was the start of a hugely successful career.
We passed the Hospital for Sick Children opened in 1882 (a first for Glasgow), the Synagogue opened in 1879 (associated with artists Hannah Frank and Hilda Goldwag) and The Tenement House occupied by Agnes Toward from 1911 until her death. Agnes never married but worked as a shorthand typist for a shipping company until the age of 73. She occasionally had the house redecorated. In 1960 electric lighting was installed but there were no major changes. The house is like a time capsule and is owned by the National Trust of Scotland.
Opposite the Synagogue was the 30 bed Glasgow Cancer Hospital where director George Beatson pioneered treatment of breast cancer. The building has been converted into flats but is still associated with his name.
Almost all of the 19th Century villas in Garnethill have been demolished but we saw a survivor that is used as the Wing Hong Chinese Elderly Centre. In the 1960s Chinese people( mostly Cantonese speakers from Hong Kong) settled in Garnethill bringing their distinctive culture to the area.
Our last stop was at the Glasgow Art School purpose built in 1899 and designed by Charles Rennie Mackintosh. The Glasgow Boys are justly celebrated artists but their female contemporaries are not so well remembered. In 1885 a new Headmaster, Fra Newbery, overhauled the curriculum and hired female staff to encourage traditionally feminine crafts as well as fine arts. Students such as Jessie M King, Bessie MacNicol, Ann Macbeth, Jessie Newberry and Margaret Macdonald helped evolve the distinctive Glasgow Style, drawing and designing, working with textiles, ceramics and metals and even making avant-garde clothing and suffragette banners. Jude Burkhauser (1947-1998) rescued them from obscurity when she arranged the Glasgow Girls exhibition at Kelvingrove in 1990. She wrote in the accompanying book “Young women in the arts have been starved for stories of other women, tales of these maverick sisters whom they might learn from....”
There were so many stories and so much to see that I can only recall a fraction of what was covered but these walks are run by GWL regularly and I would be interested in attending on other non Festival occasions. Let the last image be the small plump birds perched atop lamp-posts. These are the much loved Chookie Burdies designed by Shona Kinloch. There are about 150 of them installed in the streets of Garnethill in 1993.
Barbara and I flew from Glasgow to Heathrow to Athens then she went to Crete for her conference while I waited for the flight to Santorini. Fortunately my flight was late and this allowed Isla Nixon and Chris to catch up. I had not realised that they were to be on the same flight so I was pleased to see them.
We were staying in different hotels but met up the next day to take a boat trip to the volcano that I could see clearly from my hotel. It was very hot as we laboured up the hill across a dusty grey moonscape to the summit where we were rewarded with a magnificent view across the caldera to the town of Fira where I was staying. From this perspective it was easy to see that much of the charm of Santorini comes from its volcanic history. The land has been shaped over the centuries by repeated violent eruptions and earthquakes. Much of the western side of Santorini consists of a massive cliff created when a huge volcanic eruption caused the land to collapse and in this case the land sank below the sea to a great depth. Experts say that the eruption that occurred in the 17th Century BC was one of the largest ever to have rocked the planet. As a result of this catastrophe the caldera curves around the dormant volcano rising out of what Homer called “the wine dark sea”. This history plus the discovery of an ancient city preserved under showers of volcanic ash like Pompeii has fuelled rumours that Santorini may even be the site of the lost City of Atlantis.
The land area is shaped like a lumpy crescent covering less than 40 square miles. Although there are still a few farms and wineries working the land, most of the income of the people of Santorini comes from tourism. At the northern tip is the town of Oia which like Fira clings to the cliff top. There are beaches for swimming but no harbour for the many cruise ships that disgorge hundreds of tourists to wander through the shopping areas of Fira. The ships anchor in the bay between Fira and the volcano. Tenders bring the tourists ashore then they have the choice of queuing for the cable car, riding a donkey up the hill or walking up the steep path to the town.
I walked everywhere. My hotel was centrally located and had a glorious view. Each day I was served breakfast on the terrace where I could take refuge in the shade during the morning. As the sun moved west I sought the air conditioned comfort of the shops or the museum returning in the evening to watch the magnificent sunsets.
On my second day I accompanied Isla and Chris to Akrotiri, the partially excavated Minoan city at the south end of the island close to Red Beach. The city was entirely buried by ash and discovered in the 1860s by workmen who were excavating the ash for building projects at the Suez Canal and Port Said. The excavation work is ongoing and it is estimated that so far only 3% of the site has been uncovered. The areas that we could see appeared to be part of the central city where archaeologists uncovered sophisticated arrangements for water reticulation and sewerage directly connected to sanitary fixtures inside the houses. The buildings were two or three stories high and connected by paved roads. Animals were stabled outside the city. There was evidence of a specialised labour force where alongside farmers raising crops and stock were artists, pottery makers, masons and builders as well as mariners. Goods were produced for local use and also for export. There was evidence of trade throughout the Mediterranean area.
The houses were richly decorated and many artefacts were found. There were frescoes showing dolphins and plants inside the houses and large pots for grain storage. Unfortunately the different parts of the excavation were not well labelled and I found out a lot more about the city when I visited the museum in Fira.
Chris and Isla left for Crete by ferry on 20 June and I stayed for another two nights. I went on a bus tour with a well informed guide to see Pyrgos. This lovely town sits on the top of a hill About 8 km from Fira and was the capital of Santorini until early 1800. There was a Venetian castle constructed at this location for defensive purposes. It was one of 5 such structures built in the 13th Century. The kasteli is now a ruin but the traditional houses still cluster around the site. It is possible to walk out to the remains of the kasteli but I decided against this. Pyrgos is also rich in churches. There are at least 33 of them crammed into the small town which has become famous for its elaborate Easter rituals.
The tour continued to a village damaged by the disastrous 1956 earthquake. I do not know why the place has not been rebuilt. Many others have been reconstructed but this place is known to the locals as a ghost town. I visited the picturesque town of Oia where I think most of the pictures I have ever seen of Santorini must have been taken. I wandered along steep streets, climbing stairways and glimpsing views of the sea and coming unexpectedly to tiny churches with blue domes. I went into some of the churches after reading a sign admonishing visitors to dress decently and act respectfully. The dark interiors were decorated with an unfamiliar richness of golden lamps and icons. It was a relief to be in a cool spot after the brightness of the light outside.
On 22 June it was my turn to take the ferry to Crete in the afternoon. I spent the early part of the day in a cafe near the cable car watching the sea being ruffled by the wind, the sunlight playing on the water and the busy tenders plying to and from the cruise ships. Santorini is a beautiful place and I was slow to turn my steps toward the bus station and the steep zig zag road to the port at Athinios. The ferry was all enclosed and there was no deck where I could feel the wind in my hair. I was rather slow getting aboard so all the window seat were taken and I could not see much at all. On a fast ferry the trip to Heraklion took a little under two hours.
Amidst the wine-dark sea lies Crete,
a fair rich island populous beyond compute,
with ninety cities of mixed speech, where several languages
co-exist. Besides the Cretans proper there are Archaeans,
Cydonians, Dorians of tossing crest and noble Pelasgians.
The capital is Knossos, ruled by Minos
who from his ninth year talked familiarly with great Zeus.
Odyssey, Book 19.
Translated by T.E.Lawrence
Crete is the largest of hundreds of islands making up the Greek archipelago and is the fifth largest island in the Mediterranean Sea (ranking behind Sicily, Sardinia, Cyprus and Corsica). The land is 250 km long from west to east and only 60 km at its widest point reducing to 14 km in some places. It is the southernmost point in Europe and from Crete to the northern coast of Africa it is 300 km across the Sea of Libya. Crete lies closer to the Equator than both Tunis and Algiers. Distances on the island are magnified by the range of mountains that run like a spine down the centre acting as a barrier to north-south travel. The mountains have been pushed upward by the movement together of tectonic plates and are composed of limestone that has eroded into gorges and caves.
It is said that in one of these caves Zeus, destined to rule over the ancient gods, was born. Many of the caves show signs of occupation in Neolithic times. Originally the island was well wooded but much of the forest was cut down to satisfy the Venetian appetite for ship building timber. In recent times road builders have planted groves of trees along the verges of the national highway.
Chris and Isla met me at the ferry terminal in Heraklion just as the sun was setting. They had hired a small car and somehow we crammed my bag into the back seat and we took off to meet Nick and Lynn at a place that Nick booked on the internet. The house was large enough for 6 people and had its own swimming pool. It was situated inland from Rethymno near a tiny village called Lampini. We took only one wrong turning in the darkness and it was not until morning that I was able to appreciate the marvellous surroundings. The garden was blooming with roses and oleanders. A tiny church stood just over the fence behind the swimming pool and on the eastern side of the house there were grape vines. The first day was for resting. Nick and Lynn went to collect Barbara from Chania. We bought some groceries from nearby Spili and swam in the pool.
The land is fertile. Cherries were available in the markets along with tomatoes and cucumbers for salads and of course the wonderful feta cheese that we purchased in big blocks (500g) from local shops. Around our house in the country there were flocks of sheep and goats wearing bells and grazing rough pasture and scrub. We did not see any wildlife except for the occasional lizard running across the road. Nick and Lynn also hired a small car and the six of us in two vehicles ranged over the northern coast from Chania to Rethymno to Heraklion (nowadays spelled Iraklion). Life appeared to be simple in the villages mostly inhabited by older people. Younger people influenced no doubt by television are looking a different lifestyle in the towns or on the mainland.
There was so much to see and do that this record will assume an impossible length if I attempt to cover everything. Every day we saw splendid scenery and colourful villages. Most days we travelled over mountains and saw evidence of historical activities of many cultures. Cretans are early risers so we learned to be on the road early in order to make the best of the morning cool.
We visited the Minoan palace at Festos (Phaistos) which was excavated by a team from Italy at about the same time as Sir Arthur Evans was uncovering Knossos. Festos is less well known than the ancient capital but it must have been a delightful spot in its heyday. It is set on the flanks of a hill jutting out towards the fertile agricultural area of the Mesaras plain. Archaeologists have argued that the palace was deliberately oriented to make the most of the views towards Mt Ida and the sacred cave at Kamares and there is evidence of gardens and water cascades. The palace lies on a north-south axis and has a large western court with a monumental staircase and an imposing facade. The excavations have shown two palaces on the same site. The earlier one appears to have been damaged in an earthquake and the rest of it was levelled to make way for a new building. The excavation work is ongoing.
There is a line of deep storage pits beside a large paved courtyard and two stepped areas placed at right angles to each other to allow people to watch processions or rituals or even theatrical performances. Grain and oil were stored in large jars within the palace complex in rooms with doors fastened with a rope and a clay seal to indicate ownership. Archaeologists have found over 300 of these seals.
At the northern end of the Central Court lie the so called royal apartments. It is not known if these facilities were used by a ruling family or by public officials. Nearby in an area associated with the Old Palace was found the famous and mysterious Festos disc (now kept in the Archaelogical Museum in Iraklion) made of baked clay and covered in hieroglyphics arranged in a spiral pattern. The writing has still not been deciphered.
Our villa at Lampini was conveniently located for visits to towns on the northern coast of Crete. It took about an hour for our two little cars to reach Chania where we went to the market and sampled the local produce. We walked around the harbour looking for somewhere to lunch. In a busy spot near the lighthouse an English speaking tour operator directed us to a place away from the water and the tourist prices. The restaurant was quiet and the food was marvellous. We sat under an awning and watched cat paws walking overhead.
We spent some time at the archaelogical museum then drove out of town to see the German War Cemetery. There was a photo display about youth from all over Europe who come here for summer service activities. They maintain the cemetery in a dignified state. There was a lot of information about the development of the cemetery by gathering the fallen from different areas and re interring them in this spot overlooking the sea and the Malerme Airport where many of the German paratroopers perished. The new cemetery was dedicated by a woman whose three brothers were killed in action on Crete on the same day - 20 May 1941.
At Suda Bay we visited the Allied Cemetery which is meticulously maintained by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission. In contrast to the German Cemetery the headstones were upright and gave the country of origin for each person memorialised there. In addition many of the Allied graves had a few words from that person’s family making the point that each person was an individual. I was very moved by seeing both places especially when I realised that a large number of graves marked the resting place of an unknown person.
We went exploring again in the hills near our villa and found St Anthony’s Gorge where we walked for some distance following a stream over rocks and around corners. We stopped at the tiny church of St Anthony hollowed out of a rock. The others went on ahead and I gave up walking in my inadequate shoes. I sat in the shade and enjoyed the sounds of the gurgling water and the songbirds. A group of older people both men and women came along the path towards the church accompanied by a priest in his robes. Soon the glade was filled with the rich aroma of incense and the singing of the congregation.
When the rest of our party returned we decided to return to the villa for lunch. We collected our swimming gear and set off for Plakias. We had to drive over hill roads to the south side of the island but we were rewarded with magnificent views. The south coast of Crete has many wonderful beaches and we chose Plakias for the white sand and for the Venetian fortress that still stands on the shoreline. The fortress is a ruin today but it has been preserved by the local people as a tourist spot. We walked around the central compound, climbed up to the watch tower and admired an exhibition of Cretan finger lace. Later in the afternoon we swam in the Libyan Sea and sunbathed on the loungers.
As the sun sank we explored the little village of Plakias then dined in a seafood restaurant. Barbara’s birthday is approaching so in order to surprise her, Lynne alerted the waiter that we were celebrating. Our dessert arrived as the lights were dimmed so that everyone could see the sparklers fizzing on top of the baklava. Happy Birthday music was played on the PA system and we all sang and applauded. It was a delightful spot serving excellent food and even a sunset across water.
Rethymno was the closest large town to our villa. We set off in our two little cars and inspected the market. The usual profusion of fruits and vegetables were on offer along with fish and cheeses. There were clothing stalls and all manner of household equipment for sale.
We visited the fortress known as the “Fortezza” which dominates the city. It was built by the Venetians and the foundation stone is dated 13 September 1573. Since those days the Fortezza has been modified many times and it has been used by successive administrations. The rocky hill known as “Palaiokastro” was chosen as the site for the fort and this limited its size although it seemed large as I walked around it on a very hot day. According to both written sources and archaeological evidence, the acropolis of ancient Rithimna was located on the same spot.
The fort consists of four main semi bastions on the south and east sides and three main salients in the walls on the west and north. Inside the walls were mostly public buildings and some of them survive to the present day. The Eastern Gateway complex has three interconnected chambers with vaulted roofs. They extend over the thickness of the filling of the original walls. Today these rooms are the ticket office and a souvenir shop.
The armoury is a two storey building near the main gate and it was constructed in 1581 to house cannons and other weapons. Today this building is used for exhibitions from time to time. The Cavalier of Ayios Loukas was constructed in the south west corner of the fortress in order to provide cover for the internal part of the fort from cannon placed in the hills to the south.
After the city fell to the Turks in 1646 there were no major changes to the layout of the fort. A mosque dedicated to the reigning sultan, Ibrahim Han, was constructed on the site of the Church of Ayios Nikolaus. The main features of the mosque are the hemispherical dome (one of the largest in Greece), the niche of the mihrab and the base of the minaret. Today the building is used as a performance venue.
There was a one story building that had been part of the residential complex constructed between 1575 and 1582 for the Rector. It seems likely that building was used as a dungeon but following its restoration in 2000 is now an exhibition space. A further exhibition space has been created in the vaulted roofed magazines near the northern gate.
On the northern side of the fort is a two storied building that was the residence of one of the city councillors responsible for the maintenance of order in the fort. The building was not open on the day of our visit. It has been restored and is used as a conservation laboratory.
There is a lot of restoration work still to be done and when that is completed it will be a lot easier for visitors to gain an impression of how the fortezza has been used at different stages of its history.
We found a quiet restaurant for a leisurely lunch and found ourselves watching the guests arriving at a wedding reception. Chris went shopping while the rest of us watched the world go by.
We returned to the villa and the swimming pool in the afternoon. A man from down the hill was responsible for maintaining the swimming pool. He called in to invite us for supper on our last night in Lampini. After a BBQ meal we trooped down the hill to his home where he had a terrace overlooking a pond. There were lights around the terrace and near the pond making a very attractive area for entertaining. He brought out plates of bread, feta and olives and there was raki to drink. The party became very merry as we sang songs and tried to communicate across a language barrier. It was dark when we wended an unsteady way back up the hill and we did not have enough torches. Eventually there was a lopsided moon to light the way.
All good things come to an end and so it was with our holiday on Crete. Isla and Chris had a plane to catch on the morning of 28 June so I travelled with them and my suitcase to the airport at Iraklion. There was not enough space for four people and bags in the other car. They had to return the rental car and check in for their flight. We separated at the airport and I took a taxi to the Lato Boutique Hotel chosen by Nick because of its proximity to the airport.
My room was not ready so I went for a walk to see the Museum of Antiquities which was fortunately not too far away. Entry was free and I bought postcards for some of the folks at home. There was a collection of statuary and some artefacts from Knossos. There were some beautiful wall paintings that had been removed from the ancient city for preservation. Later I met Barbara and Nick and Lynne at the hotel and we checked into our rooms. We lunched at a place with a sea view just around the block from the hotel. We walked around town and did some shopping. I failed to find a post office to send the cards. We hoped to find a restaurant where we might hear traditional music. The sign posts were not clear and perhaps our guide book was out of date but we did not hear any music and the meal was just average.
Later, on the way back to the hotel we saw a large crowd of people surrounded by police officers in riot gear. They were about a block away so we changed course in order to avoid getting caught up in what was going on. I had heard about civil unrest in Greece due to the austerity measures adopted by the government because of the economic crisis but this was the only time that I saw anything untoward.
Knossos is the ancient capital of a civilisation known by the name of King Minos who ruled in Crete. Modern scholarship suggests that there was more than one king with this name and the people who took their name from his have left an enormous legacy of buildings, cemeteries, works of art and household utensils. There is no information from written sources about the Minoan civilisation. Everything that we know about it has been the result of painstaking archaeological work and much more needs to be done. There are large palaces especially in eastern Crete but no evidence of weapons. The people were farmers, traders and artists not warriors.
Nick, Lynne, Barbara and I took the bus to Knossos as early as we could in order to avoid the crowds and the heat. At the entrance we decided to employ a private guide who was a mine of information about the way of life of the ancients. He was worth every penny of the 60 Euro fee and the tip. The promised 90 minute guided tour stretched to well over two hours and the time flew by as we were all so interested in what he was telling us. We never learned his name but he lifted our visit from a walk past of half understood artefacts to a personal introduction to a people who lived many years before Christ in a manner that does not seem outmoded even today.
He pointed out that the buildings of the ancient city were constructed using thick stone walls and wooden pillars. The pillars were tree trunks installed head down to prevent their sprouting in wet weather. The city was constructed on a north/south axis to take advantage of sunlight. There were windows and screens to channel cooling breezes into the buildings. The interior walls were richly decorated with paintings of plants, fish and animals. Some of the paintings had symbolic value to remind the inhabitants of the importance of the olive trees and the bulls that appeared to be central to social economic and spiritual life.
The people were wealthy and the city attracted many visitors. Our guide pointed out storage pits near the entrance to the city where gifts brought by visitors could be displayed to enhance the prestige of the king. As in Festos there were many storage rooms where large jars (pithoi) held grain, pulses and oil. Many of these were intended to remain in the same place and to be refilled from time to time as the contents were emptied a little at a time to meet the daily needs of the people.
There are many stories about the Minoans and one of the most intriguing is about the Minotaur and the Labyrinth. According to our guide the Minoans would have relied on tales of a strong man with the head of a bull to deter enemies from attacking the city. The wealth of the city would have attracted envious attention so a myth about a half man half beast who would defend savagely would be useful. Perhaps tales of sporting prowess became exaggerated into myths about a magical monster. The truth may never be known.
Similarly the guide suggested that the Labyrinth was not a confusing maze of underground corridors but was rather a metaphor for the palace itself with its endless chains of rooms opening off each other such that a stranger could easily become hopelessly lost.
The palace was truly impressive and interesting and there is a lot more to learn. According to our guide once again there are museum basements full of artefacts that have yet to be catalogued and analysed. Although there are many more sites to be excavated it is actually better to leave them alone as the evidence will be preserved in situ rather than leaving irreplaceable treasures to deteriorate in forgotten cupboards.
My impression of Crete involves colourful gardens and endless seascapes.
On 3 July I flew with Barbara from Glasgow to Heathrow to Newark and from there to Montreal where she was to make a presentation at a conference. The inevitable delays en route meant that we arrived later than expected so she did not have time to contact her colleagues before the proceedings began. After a good night’s sleep she met her co presenter, Alia, who was staying in the same hotel and they left together for an early start.
My agenda was quite different as I was hoping to see some of the places where Abdu’l-Baha visited back in 1912. Armed with a map and good walking shoes I set off uphill from the Holiday Inn on Rue Sherbrooke to find the Baha’i Shrine at 1548 Pine Street or Rue des Pins as it is known in that city. To my disappointment it was not open until early evening so I wandered off to see other sights.
Montreal is famous for the International Jazz Festival that runs from late June to the first week in July. The festival involves much more than jazz as there are performances of all kinds of modern music from hip hop to reggae. I was able to hear a free big band concert and I hoped to attend other concerts but as things worked out I was kept very busy with other things.
I worked out how to use the Metro and the bus service and I travelled extensively around the central city but I still did not get to see everything. I returned to the Baha’i Shrine and was able to see part of the house. Unfortunately there had been heavy rain during the week before I arrived and there had been some water damage upstairs so the room used by Abdu’l-Baha was closed to visitors. I recited prayers in the living room and chatted with the custodian until other visitors arrived. The whole house is a Shrine so photography was forbidden but I was able to soak up the atmosphere of the rooms where the Master gave talks and took meals. I saw the office where William Sutherland Maxwell worked at home and appreciated the Japanese influence in the furnishings and decorations.
In 1912 the house was the home of the Maxwell family. When Abdu’l-Baha arrived in Montreal Mr Maxwell met Him at the train station and implored Him to stay at the Maxwell home. After He spent a few days there the room occupied by Him was not used again but was kept as a place for prayer and meditation. After the passing of William and May Maxwell the house was given to the National Assembly of Canada and became a Shrine. Although I did not have an arduous journey to reach it I had the sense of being a pilgrim and felt very moved that the house receives such loving care. Much of the furniture was taken to Haifa when William Maxwell was living there but more recently an effort has been made to refurnish the house as it would have been in 1912.
That first night of the conference I met Barbara for dinner. She chose a place called Entrecote Saint-Jean that she remembered from an earlier visit. The restaurant was locatated a short walk from our hotel at 2022 Rue Peel. The food was simple but well prepared. It was an excellent and memorable meal. The restaurant was next door to a jewellery shop where Barbara spent a lot of m,oney on an earlier visit. Fortunately the jewellery shop was closed.
As a result of my conversation with the custodian of the Shrine I visited the Baha’i Centre at the far end of Rue Des Pins the next day. The Centre opens from 2pm so I spent the morning at the Jean- Talon Market in an area known as Little Italy. The custodian of the Centre took me around to look at everything and I bought books. The book that I most wanted was not available in English that day so I will be making an effort to find a copy of “Abdu’l-Baha in Canada.
The Marche Jean Talon was an exciting place with a shop selling cookbooks and many other stalls selling all kinds of produce. There were flowers and fish and nuts and berries as well as charcuterie and icecream. A special product was the maple syrup. I breakfasted at a little restaurant where I could watch the world go by. I found a specialist tea shop where, as is usual in Montreal, I began my conversation with the shop assistant in French. After a few minutes we switched to English and it turned out that the man I was speaking to was from Yorkshire although I could not identify his accent. We had a long discussion about tea and he told me that the shop at Jean-Talon is a branch of another place near Rue St Denis where I could find delicious morsels to eat. I tried it out later in the day. It was on a side street and a little hard to find but well worth the effort for the exquisite little cakes and the tea.
On the second evening Barbara attended her conference dinner so I took a boat trip along the river and back after dark. Unfortunately there was persistent drizzle but I was able to gain some impression of the city from a different angle. A meal was served but the food was not very exciting and nor was I thrilled about the rain. The highlight was a fireworks show once it was dark. The advertisement for the boat excursion indicated that there would be a fireworks trip every few weeks over the summer with a different theme each time. My trip had a Chinese theme which seems to mean that the fireworks were made in China or according to Chinese designs. The boat was late in returning to port so by the time I arrived at the hotel Barbara was fast asleep.
There was so much to do in Montreal that I will have to return to see some of the other things that I missed this time. The old city has cobblestone streets and grand plazas as well as quaint buildings and gardens. There were museums and 19th century buildings cheek by jowl with contemporary constructions. I did not make it along to the “Centre Canadien d’Architecture” but I did manage to visit the magnificent “Basilique Notre-Dame”. This 19th century Gothic Revival masterpiece is filled with the most spectacular craftsmanship. The interior is adorned with a forest of wooden pillars and carvings made by hand without the aid of a single nail. Gilt stars shine form the ceiling vaults and the altar is backlit in evening-sky blues. Originally it was a humble building dating from 1683. It was rebuilt in 1829 and stands as an eloquent testimony to the strong faith of the congregations of the past. It has a magnificent 7000 pipe organ and can hold up to 3200 worshippers. Abdu’l-Baha visited this church in 1912.
I went to an exhibition of native art and admired carvings in wood, bone and stone depicting animals such as bears, and birds such as crows, owls and seabirds. There were also paintings of various aspects of everyday life.
When Barbara’s conference duties were over we tried to attend the nightly sound and light display that tells the story of Notre Dame and the city but it was booked out. We did not have another opportunity to return to the church. On the Sunday morning Alia and Barbara went for a walk in the Parc du Mont-Royal. The park occupies a large area on a hill top and is popular with people of all ages for cycling in summer and skiing and other winter sports when there is snow on the ground. I met Barbara and Alia later at Schwartz’s Hebraique Deli where we devoured the hugest and most delicious smoked meat sandwiches on rye bread. This deli is a Montreal icon opened by a Romanian Jew, Reuben Schwartz, in 1928. It has been going strong ever since and it was a cultural experience just to be there. Schwartz’s meat goes through a 14 day regime of curing and smoking on the premises followed by a final three hour steam before being served to never ending flood of hungry customers. There was a lot of pressure on seating so we did not hang around for a leisurely chat after eating.
That afternoon we went to the circus. Montreal is the home of the world famous travelling Cirque du Soleil and not surprisingly there is a National Circus School located in the working class district of St-Michel. There is a performance area called "Tohu-Bohu" (from the French term for hustle and bustle) as well as the school all built on the site of North America's second largest waste dump. The whole complex is powered by the methane gas from the landfill garbage beneath. We managed to get tickets for the 5 pm show and went out there by train and bus. There is a cafe and a garden filled with "animals" made from waste products that made a creative use of garbage. We had a drink in a cafe before going to our seats that were well away from the stage but not as high as the trapeze artist. The show was simply amazing in its speed and variety of athletic stunts. There were no animals and no speech so we could concentrate on the death defying circus arts. We were very impressed and decided to go to another circus show in town that night. The town performace was to be in the open air but it began to rain and it was too dangerous for the performers so it was cancelled. We wandered around the crowded streets ejoying the carnival atmosphere.
Alia left early on Monday morning and Barbara and I walked around to find a famous bagel shop. The Montreal Bagel has a long history that started in 1915 when Isadore and Fanny Schlafman, Jews from Ukraine, opened a tiny bakery on Rue Roy. They used an old family recipe for the bagels and soon opened the Montreal Bagel Bakery in a wooden shed a few doors away from Schwartz's Deli. After WWII many Holocaust survivors moved to Montreal and the bagel market boomed. A Polish Jew, Myer Lewkowicz, establish St Viateur Bakery in 1957 and a legendary rivalry was born. Many other bagel places were opened but the number one slot is still held by the St-Viateur Bakery. This was where we had our late breakfast.
Locals agree that Montreal bagels are better than those made in New York. The Montreal version is lighter, sweeter and crustier. It is chewy but not dense due to the enriched eggy dough that looks like batter. The dough hardly rises at all and the tender rings are formed by hand and boiled in a honey and water solution before being baked in a wood fired oven. I thought these bagels were simply delicious.
We saved our museum visits until our last day which was a bad mistake as it was a Monday when all such places are closed. We wandered past the Musee des Beaux Artes and admired the public art work but there was no way we could get inside to enjoy more. Next time....
When I arrived in Scotland on this trip Barbara was living in a walk up apartment at 19 Melrose Avenue, Linwood. She sold her apartment at Waverley Street and moved to temporary accommodation at Linwood on 21 March along with boxes of household effects. She left the dining and lounge suites for the new owner at Waverley Street. She began the search for a new home in March and quickly found the right place in Langbank. The purchase was settled on 9 July.
Linwood is a small town in Renfrewshire close to Glasgow International Airport and about 23 km south west of Glasgow. Barbara’s apartment was close to the edge of the town so it was hard to get an idea of its size. The expansion and economy of Linwood from 1961 relied heavily on the Rootes later Chrysler car plant which was built to produce the Hillman Imp. This revolutionary small car went into production in 1963. The factory was opened by the Duke of Edinburgh and there were high hopes that the shipyard workers who were being laid off from the Clyde would be absorbed into the car industry. Unfortunately the new factory was dogged by labour problems and production difficulties and it was closed down in 1981. Most of the factory was demolished soon after.
The factory closure left mass unemployment in its wake. It is estimated that 13,000 workers were left jobless. From 1980 to 1995 Linwood had high unemployment and many of the people left in order to find other opportunities. It still feels dismal and many of the buildings have fallen into disrepair but while I was there work began on building a new shopping centre.
There is some variety in the housing stock in that there are two tower blocks together with semi detached places and some single unit dwellings. The area is now a dormitory suburb with some lovely gardens as well as places that are boarded up. Perhaps the new shopping centre will stimulate the town as has the one near Paisley.
One day I walked over to Paisley looking for a Post Office as Linwood does not have one. I stumbled across the Martyrs Memorial in the Woodside Cemetery and went into the quiet grounds to have a closer look. The signposts were not easy to follow so a gardener showed me the memorial to James Algie and John Park who were executed in 1685 for failing to take the Oath of Abjuration. In the South West of Scotland was a stronghold of Covenanters persecuted for their refusal to accept royal authority in ecclesiastical matters. In these secular times it is hard to imagine the passions that were aroused over issues such as whether the sovereign could be the Head of the Church. We think that persecution of those with a different religious persuasion is no longer happening but in fact people in different parts of the world are suffering to this day over religious issues.
The gardener also pointed out a memorial to a number of people killed in March 1941 when a bomb was dropped on Paisley as the Luftwaffe returned to Germany after the blitz on Clydebank. It appeared that the bomb was dropped randomly after it was not used on the shipyards. It fell on an ambulance station killing over 90 nurses and ambulance drivers.
Other martyrs memorialised in the same cemetery were Andrew Hardie and John Baird executed in Stirling and James Wilson executed in Glasgow in 1820. They were attempting to get the weavers to take collective action for better pay and work conditions. I thought that 1820 was late in the day to be hanging men for taking part in labour disputes. In those days the Combination Acts forbade the combining or organising of people to press for better working conditions. That legislation was repealed in 1824 so trade unions were no longer illegal. The Tolpuddle Martyrs were transported to Australia in 1834 for the crime of swearing oaths to support each other as members of the Friendly Society of Agricultural Labourers in the struggle for better pay. The Tolpuddle Martyrs created a disturbance and attracted a lot of attention to their cause.
Since their transportation supporters of the Tolpuddle Martyrs have erected a monument in their honour in Tolpuddle, Dorset. A festival organised by the TUC is held annually in that town and speeches are given by notable people about issues of freedom. There is a museum and their story is featured in the 1986 movie “Comrades”.
By contrast the Scottish martyrs were all but forgotten until more recent times. The 1820 Society was founded in 1969 to publicise and commemorate the Scottish Radical Insurrection of 1820 also known as the Radical War. The government feared wholesale disorder and the insurrection was crushed. Many of the other instigators were transported to Australia. At the suggestion of Walter Scott a number of unemployed weavers from the west of Scotland were put to work building a road around Salisbury Crags in Holyrood Park. This is still known as Radical Road.
At the same time arrangements were made for King George IV to visit Scotland to distract the populace from their agitations and to weaken the Radical movement. The visit largely organised by Walter Scott succeeded brilliantly and brought a new found Scottish national identity creating widespread enthusiasm for the tartan. Part of the pageantry included a march of the clans up the Royal Mile to Edinburgh Castle led by the Mc Gregors. The king himself was kitted out in a kilt over his long woollen underwear so he must have been quite a sight.
Meanwhile back at Melrose we spent a couple of days packing things away ready for the shift to the new house. Once we had the key for the new place we went out there and cleaned floors, fridge, oven, cupboards and vacuumed the carpets. The movers arrived at Melrose on 12 July and efficiently packed up the boxes, beds and other furniture into about a quarter of the space available in their truck. Everything was delivered to the new house that day and distributed around the rooms. We concentrated on getting the bedrooms ready first and since the kitchen was in disarray we ate at the pub that first night. I unloaded the kitchen implements and put them into the cupboards. The space seemed generous until we started to put things into their new homes.
The new house has three bedrooms and a bathroom upstairs and a living room, dining room and kitchen on the ground level. There is a small garden area at the back and a garage at the rear of the property. The neighbours are very friendly and helpful. Barbara has decided to have a fitted bookshelf in the lounge and one of the neighbours suggested a suitably reliable joiner. We engaged in all the appropriate nesting behaviours by hanging some of Barbara’s pictures, setting up her workspace in the smallest bedroom, shopping for an electric lawnmower, planting culinary herbs and flowers in garden pots and buying a portable BBQ.
There have been some frustrations as well. There were a few breakages in the move and some things have been mislaid and have not yet been found. The new dining suite was delivered but unfortunately the table could not be assembled as the holes for the bolts are not properly aligned. This began a long and frustrating process of getting a replacement. It also meant that when our first guest came for dinner we had to have our meal on our laps as there was nowhere else to put the plates. Fortunately the lounge suite has arrived safely with no problems at all.
We are in the process of getting the garden under control. I have done some pruning so that we can walk along the path to the side of the garage. There are lots of weeds to be pulled out. There is a fish tank on the back lawn filled with green water. I do not like to touch it and I can see that maintenance will take a lot of effort. There are some fishes (at least three) hiding in the murky depths. Barbara would like to have a conservatory built along the back (south)of the house so we have made contact with a construction company who will suggest a design and give a quote.
The new house is at Langbank, a village on the south bank of the River Clyde. Langbank is in Renfrewshire about 15 km northwest of Paisley and 5.5 km east of Port Glasgow on the A8. It is a dormitory suburb of Glasgow that grew up after the opening of the Glasgow and Greenock Railway in 1841. Prior to that it was no more than a scattering of farms. Despite the passage of time there is not much here. The local pub offers (quite ordinary) meals as well as conviviality. The railway station is about a 10 minute walk down the hill (20 minutes up again). There is a shop that seems to sell bread and milk and it keeps short hours. The nearest supermarket, Post Office and fish and chip shop is at Port Glasgow. For Barbara the trip to work by train takes an hour door to door.
The house is on a hill facing north. Most people in UK like to face south in order to see the sunshine but in this case the sun in the south makes for a cheerful kitchen/dining area and will heat up the whole house once there is a conservatory extending the house on that side. The master bedroom and the study face north towards the Highlands and the Trossachs. I think Barbara has made an excellent choice.
Largs Bay is a beach and holiday resort on the North Ayrshire coast of the Firth of Clyde and is connected to Glasgow by bus and train. The train stops at Ardrossan first so Largs has been less popular. The attractive beach town has a pier with many of the usual English beachside amusements. There are a number of small hotels as the town developed into a genteel retirement resort. There is a regular ferry service to Great Cumbrae Island and in summer Largs pier is a regular calling spot for the Waverley, the world’s last sea going paddle steamer, as it carries trippers around and across the Firth of Clyde. In an earlier age Largs was on the route of many Clyde steamer services. Over 700 years ago the Vikings had a base at the northern end of Great Cumbrae Island opposite Largs. Viking raids were a thorn in the side of the Scottish kings and years of growing tension culminated in the Battle of Largs in 1263. Probably the battle was more a series of skirmishes as the Scots were outnumbered but the demoralised Vikings under Haakon IV set off to return to Norway. Haakon died along the way at the Bishop’s Palace in Kirkwall, Orkney and with him died the Norse claim over the Western Isles.
There were no Vikings on the day of our visit but I wondered about the ongoing festivals celebrating the Norse connection. The name of the town comes from the Gaelic “Leargs” meaning hillside. The town is surrounded by hills. We lunched at one of the iconic Nandini's restaurants and sat beside the water to eat icecream and watch a seal cavorting in the water.
I was interested to visit the place as it gave its name to a steamship “Largs Bay” on which the first group of Baha’i Pilgrims travelled from New Zealand in 1925. The ship as built By W Beardmore & Co at Dalmuir for the Commonwealth Government Line of Steamers, Adelaide. It was subsequently used as a troop ship in WWII and scrapped in 1957.
On the way to Largs Bay we passed Inverkip where there was a large power station mothballed during the Thatcher years. Only the chimney survived until 28 July and I did not take a photo as we passed by. The chimney was demolished at 10 pm last Sunday so I have lost my chance. Perhaps the video clip will give some idea of its dimensions Check this out: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-scotland-glasgow-west-23479026
Barbara and I picked up Colleen and John at Prestwick Airport after a late flight from Paris. The following morning we set off for the Highlands in order to attend the Clan McGregor Games at Loch Earnhead. On the way we called in at Ross Priory which is used as the staff club by Strathclyde University. We called in at the parish church at Balquidder to see the grave of Rob Roy McGregor and lunched at the pub at the crossroads. Last time I was in Scotland this pub had another name but it is now called Mhor 84. The food was excellent and John especially appreciated the smoked haddock and poached egg.
We were quite late arriving at the Games venue. People were already starting to leave as we were shown to a parking place and made our way to the adjacent playing field. There were the usual dancing and piping contests together with strong man events such as hammer throwing and tossing the caber. During the afternoon there was a running race to the top of a nearby hill and back. A beacon was lit when the first person reached the top and the athletes made good time. There was a display of aerobatics by a biplane. There were stalls displaying various kinds of handcrafts and a woman worked steadily at a spinning wheel. I was pleased to make contact with some of the clansfolk. Late in the day a pipe band marched around the field displaying skill and musicianship.
Watching the band warm up I became aware of a game being played by some of the younger snare drummers. One of them would beat out a rhythm and the others would reply together. It was fast and skilful requiring concentration and dexterity. I had not been aware of a “conversation” amongst drummers before. They were all having fun and seemed to enjoy pushing each other to attempt more and more complex measures.
We stopped at Callander to stretch our legs on the way home. The shops were all closed but we had dinner at a fish restaurant called Mhor Fish. I ordered hake. It was simply delicious and the others were pleased with their choices as well.
The following day was Sunday and we spent the day in Glasgow. Barbara took us to see the Titan crane and we hoped to take the lift to the top but due to technical difficulties we were unable to do so. The Titan Clydebank is a 150 foot high cantilever crane built in 1907 by Arrol & Co for the sum of 24,600.00GBP. The crane had a lift capacity of 160 tons. It was designed to lift heavy equipment such as engines and boilers during the fitting-out of battleships and ocean liners at the John Brown shipyard. As the spectre of war loomed in 1937 the lift capacity was increased to 200 tons so that the crane could lift new long-range gun barrels on to battleships.
When the Clydebank ship building industry declined many of the cranes were removed but this one was recognised as an historical structure. It was restored and opened to the public in 2007 just in time for its 100th anniversary. There are only 4 of these giant cantilever cranes left on the River Clyde. Arrol & Co built 60 of these cranes around the world and there are only 11 remaining.
The John Brown & Co shipyard was the biggest in the world with an international reputation from 1900. After 1950 it was unable to compete with the emerging ship yards in Eastern Europe and the Far East. In 1968 it merged with other shipyards to become the Upper Clyde Shipbuilders consortium but eventually collapsed in 1971. There is not much left of the once great industry on the ground. We looked for the remains of the slipway and noted that ship hulls would slide into the Clyde opposite the River Cart and be turned around to begin the journey downriver to be fitted out. John Brown’s shipyard built many notable vessels including the RMS Lusitania, HMS Hood, HMS Repulse, RMS Queen Mary, RMS Queen Elizabeth and RMS Queen Elizabeth II.
We visited the Riverside Museum – Scotland’s Museum of transport and travel. This museum, situated on Pointhouse Quay, was opened on 21 June 2011. It has won the 2013 European Museum of the Year award and from what I saw it was a well deserved accolade. It was impossible to see everything so we concentrated on the shipping history. There was a wonderful mobile display showing ships that had been constructed over the years. We were there for two hours and we did not even look at the displays of motor vehicles and trains. We were all amused by the adult sized sandpit in front of the museum complete with real people lounging in deck chairs under sun umbrellas. It will be worth another visit later.
We wandered around the Kelvingrove Museum concentrating on the exhibitions of the work of Scottish artists. Once again there was so much to see that we had to be thrown out at closing time. It will be possible for me to return there but I felt sorry for John and Colleen who were overwhelmed by the amount and variety of material on display.
We drove through Pollock Park and admired the prize winning herd of Highland Cows. The museum was closed by that time of the day. We carried on to the House for an Art Lover designed by Charles Rennie MacIntosh for an architecture competition. Although he was disqualified from the competition for failing to supply the correct number of drawings the house was subsequently constructed according to his incomplete design and is today standing on land gifted to the City of Glasgow by a wealthy benefactor. We were unable to look inside as the place was closed but we were able to admire the garden through the railings. I plan to visit again before my holiday comes to an end.
That night Barbara was able to show off her BBQ skills serving salmon and salad followed by a summer pudding made by me.
On 22 July we set out early in the morning for Oban. We made minimal stops but arrived only just in time to catch the ferry to Mull. Barbara had to find a parking place while the rest of us waited anxiously by the gang plank. At last she arrived at a brisk trot and we boarded with only a few minutes to spare. The crossing was smooth. A bus picked us up at Craignure for the trip over the hill to Fionnphort. The driver was a wit. As we bumped over potholes he remarked that the Council did not believe in squandering money on roads and bridges. It was a one way road for most of the trip. When we met opposing traffic one or both vehicles pulled into a layby so that the passing could be completed safely. We kept an eye open for eagles but I did not see any of these splendid birds.
At Fionnphort we took a smaller ferry to Lunga and Staffa. Visits to each of these uninhabited islands provided special opportunities to enjoy the wild life and the landforms. We passed by the small island of Iona which was a centre of Irish monasticism for four centuries and is now renowned for tranquillity. Visitors to that island can see the Abbey – the best preserved ecclesiastical building surviving from the Middle Ages in the Western Isles of Scotland. We carried on to Lunga, a bird sanctuary. Lunga is the largest of the Treshnish Isles. It is of volcanic origin and was populated until the 19th century. There is a ruined village abandoned in 1857 and it is now designated as a Site of Special Scientific Interest because of its abundant plant and birdlife. I wanted to see the puffins but there were many other seabirds nesting in holes dug in the soil along the cliffs. There were many other birds nesting on the island itself as well as on crags nearby. We saw kittiwakes, storm petrels, Guillemots and razorbills as well as puffins.
As we resumed our journey on the ferry we saw dolphins playing nearby. To the delight of the passengers these friendly creatures leaped out of the water and seemed to watch our boat. The skipper turned around so that we could all get a good view but my camera work was not good enough to capture a shot of anything at all.
We landed on Staffa, another volcanic island where unique geological features have attracted visitors for centuries. It is the site of Fingal’s Cave immortalised by Mendelssohn’s overture. Fingal’s Cave has a large arched entrance but it is not possible for boats to enter. The cave is lined with distinctive columns formed from a black fine grained Tertiary basalt. The columns are mostly hexagonal in shape and are similar to the ones found in the Giant’s Causeway in Northern Ireland. Science tells us that there were eruptions of similar material that has weathered in a similar way in both locations but the story tellers say that once there were two giants locked in a bitter quarrel. Finn McCool lived in Ireland and Fingal lived in Scotland. They hurled insults and rocks at each other. One day Fingal called on Finn Mc Cool to claim satisfaction. Finn’s wife put her husband into the baby’s cradle and when Fingal began knocking and shouting outside she explained that her husband was away. She told Fingal not to wake the baby and showed him the supposed infant sleeping in the cradle. Fingal began to worry that if the baby was so big then how big would the father be. He ran away and hid in a cave on Staffa. This ended the quarrel but the similar landforms are still thee to be seen.
Eventually it was time to retrace our steps to Oban via ferry and bus. It was after 8pm when we reached Oban and we decided to have a meal there rather than returning at once to Glasgow. The shop selling shellfish on the wharf was closed and eventually we ate at a hotel on the seafront. We chose a table by the window where we could watch the blood red sun sinking into the sea. The old fashioned dining room with flashing silver and starched table linen was almost empty but John enjoyed the haggis meal and the rest of us found plenty on the menu to satisfy our hunger.
On their last day Barbara drove John and Colleen and me to Ayrshire to visit the Robert Burns Birthplace Museum. Burns Cottage, the first home of Scotland’s national Poet was built by his father, William Burness, in 1757 and Robert was born there on 25 January 1759. We arrived late in the day so we had to hurry to see the cottage with its thatched roof in a good state of repair. The cottage was not valued at first and was used for a while as a pub but Suffragettes who tried to burn the place down were instrumental in having the house preserved for posterity.
We hurried along the Poets Walk with its images of Tam o Shanter and the famous mouse, past the roses and the garden and into the museum. This is another award winning installation, well endowed with interesting and informative materials together with interactive displays. I did not feel that I had time to appreciate it fully and I have added it to my list of places to visit again.
After the museum closed for the day we went across the road to see the Auld Kirk. Carved stepping stones circled the now roofless stone building telling the story of how the local citizens led by William Burness subscribed to a fund to build a wall around the churchyard and cemetery. The graves of Robbie Burns parents are in this cemetery. The stepping stones went on to outline the tale of Tam o Shanter pointing out that the old kirk was well known in the locality as a hangout for the Devil and his emissaries. I wonder how the townsfolk would have felt about that.
We walked a little further down the road to the Brig o Doon where Tam o Shanter was able to escape across the river. The hump backed bridge was crossed daily by William Burness on his way to work. It is amazing to think that the old bridge immortalised in the poem was an important feature of the community when the poet was a lad.
On Friday 26 July Olwyn came over to Glasgow for the weekend. We met at the Queen Street Station and went to a concert together. This was an unusual concert as the Scottish Symphony Orchestra was providing the sound track for a silent movie. There is a well established tradition of live music with a silent movie but the luxury of a full symphony orchestra was not to be missed.
The movie was a 1926 American production starring Buster Keaton and Marion Mack. “The General” was an adventure-epic classic but did not do well either in the box office or with the reviewers. Keaton plays the engine driver of a train called “The General”. The movie set during the Civil War involves slapstick humour and a train chase. It was an opportunity for Keaton to perform many dangerous stunts on and around the moving train including jumping from the engine to a tender to a boxcar, sitting on the cowcatcher and running along the roof. The climax of the film showed the train crossing a ravine just as the bridge is being blown up. I read somewhere that the filming of the bridge collapse happened near the town of Cottage Grove Oregon. There were 500 extras from the Oregon National Guard dressed up in Union uniforms and filmed travelling left to right. Then they all changed into Confederate uniforms and were filmed going in the opposite direction. The production company left the wreckage in the river and it became a tourist attraction for about 20 years before being salvaged for scrap during WWII. It was a memorable night out and we laughed long and loud.
On Saturday we set off to see the Pots Festival at Penrith. Barbara has attended this festival for years and has spent a lot of money there. It is held in the grounds of a stately home and features pottery and ceramics from UK, Europe and further afield but there was nothing from NZ this year. There was plenty to see and many exhibits were of great interest. There was a competition for artists to produce items around the theme “From the Sea” and these were delightfully inventive. We took tea on the terrace and wandered around the exhibits again.
We decided to detour into Ayrshire on the way home. We stopped to see the Twelve Apostles stone circle standing forlornly in a field then carried on past the ruined Dundrennan Abbey where Mary Queen of Scots spent her last hours in Scotland before fleeing to a life of captivity in England. We stopped for a cup of tea in Kirkcudbright but by then the light was failing and I did not take any photos. We walked around this pretty town admiring the flowers in the public gardens and the historic buildings by the wharf.
The following day we drove back into Ayrshire to attend the Summer Fair at Culzean Castle. The castle has a spectacular location by the sea looking towards Ireland. Ailsa Crag just off the coast is midway between Glasgow and Dublin. The carpark was full and the grounds were swarming with people. For me the most interesting display was a tent full of live owls on perches. There is a lot of interest these days in birds of prey. There are wild life refuges and education centres in different locations where the public can see these magnificent creatures in a natural setting. It is good that an effort is being made to preserve the diversity of wild birds.
There was not much else to see at the fair so we walked around the castle gardens after lunch in the cafe. The gardens were beautiful and gave Barbara some ideas for her own place. Eventually we had to turn homeward and we put Olwyn on the train with many promises to be in touch soon. Barbara and Olwyn will be celebrating their 60th birthdays later this month and they are planning a birthday/housewarming party on 7 September.
There are so many things to notice in Scotland that there is a danger I will miss them out of this blog. Without going into lots of detail I have found Glasgow to be a very interesting and energetic city. People have a sense of humour and there are many delightful things to see and do. I have been successfully travelling around by train and getting to know the city for myself.
Although George Square was used for some of the filming of the latest Brad Pitt movie “World War Z” the place is being dug up at the moment and there are barriers to prevent people from going into the area. Barbara was telling me that one day during the filming she happened to be in the area of George Square when she saw a number of people walking along the street in their zombie makeup holding half closed umbrellas over their heads. I saw the Duke of Wellington wearing some unusual headgear.
We went back to the Titan Crane and took the lift to the gantry to see the view up and down the Clyde River. The tide was just going out at the time of our visit and we were able to see the slipway from the now demolished John Brown Shipyard emerging from the water. There were some photos of the workers who built the crane and despite the destruction wrought by the Luftwaffe we could see the outlines of the town where they had lived.
We went to the market at Loch Lomond and heard the wild men from the hills playing drums and pipes in an uninhibited way. We had other shopping experiences at Dobbie’s Garden World and Marks and Sparks. We planted out more flowers in Barbara’s garden and we are getting to know the neighbours at Middlepenny Place.
It is a very long time since I have had the chance to visit the USA. I accompanied Barbara to a conference in Orlando where I hoped to enjoy the scenery while she was working. The conference was huge with about 8000 attendees this year. A few years ago there were 10,000 of them so this time should have been relatively relaxed. To me however it appeared to be frantically busy. As with any large conference there were several streams of activity taking place at the same time. There were no plenary sessions. Our hotel was full of conference attendees and all of the meeting rooms were in use all day. The restaurants were crowded morning, noon and night. Each day we had to get up early so that she could be fed and watered in time to start work.
We stayed in a hotel called the Dolphin Resort. It was situated on Lake Buena Vista at the opposite end of a walkway from the Swan Hotel. Each of these places had huge models of their named creatures on the roof and in the foyer areas. I thought they must be part of the Disney business empire but it transpired that they were instead part of the Sheraton group. Despite the maintenance men being very busy I felt that the hotel was somewhat tired and shabby. The food was very ordinary.
I quickly discovered that while Disney was not the only show in town it was quite difficult to get away from the free shuttle buses and water taxis plying between different venues such as the Disney Market and Disney Downtown. The facilities were arranged in such a way that guests were discouraged from spending their money elsewhere. Road signs had Mickey Mouse ears on them. There was a huge range of Disney merchandise. People of all ages wore Mickey Mouse ears adapted for all conceivable occasions. I was particularly struck by the number of little girls wearing ears with bridal veils. For me the ultimate was seeing a starry eyed couple wandering along hand in hand wearing his and hers ears .... hers with the bridal veil and his with a top hat.
While Barbara was busy I took the water taxi to Epcot avoiding other attractions such as the Disney Yacht and Beach Club resort and the Disney Board Walk resort. At Epcot I saw pavilions representing different countries such as France, UK, China and so on, each with retail opportunities and some with special activities such as promotional movies. I went for a ride on a Viking long boat in the Norwegian pavilion. We went down a waterfall, met threatening trolls and rolled around as if in a storm. I ate Moroccan in an atmospheric restaurant located in a narrow winding souk. I missed the opportunity to dine with a Disney princess.
Also at Epcot I visited various pavilions that focussed on the natural world and I enjoyed a frolic with a cast of undersea characters inspired by Disney-Pixar’s “Finding Nemo”; there was a simulated hang gliding flight over California and a movie/display about the history of communication. And on top of all this there was a fireworks show at 9pm. I was simply exhausted as I was walking all day from place to place in the sticky heat of summer. I was glad to arrive back in my air conditioned room where Barbara was already fast asleep.
Despite the debilitating weather we took the time to make a full day visit to the Kennedy Space Centre which was a marvellous experience. There was so much to see and do that even though we kept moving we did not see everything and ideally we needed another full day. We saw a number of older rockets standing on end at the entrance way. We spent most of our time in a state of the art new pavilion (opened 29 June 2013) dedicated to the Space Shuttle programme. The displays were very informative. We were able to get up close to a real shuttle and it was clear that despite the matter of fact approach that has been adopted to space travel the astronauts are a very special group of people.
I was surprised that despite the fact that the shuttle programme has been in operation for most of my adult life I could not remember much about its achievements. There have been six shuttles since the programme started in 1997 with the Enterprise named following a campaign of letter writing after the fictional space ship.
Columbia flew 28 missions. It was the first orbiter to fly in space. (Enterprise did not fly high enough above the earth to enter space.) Columbia was the first commercial satellite. It serviced the Hubble telescope. The first female shuttle commander, Eileen Collins, flew in Columbia. This shuttle was named after the first US ship to circumnavigate the world.
Challenger flew 10 missions. The first space walk and the first untethered space walk were taken outside Challenger. It was also the first orbiter to land at the Kennedy Space Centre. It was named after the ship HMS Challenger that sailed in the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans in the 1870s.
Discovery flew 38 missions and covered the most miles of all the shuttles. It was named after two sailing ships ... Discovery was the ship in which Captain James Cook made his fateful voyage to the Hawaiian Islands and it was also the name of the ship sailed by Henry Hudson in 1610 to find the North West Passage.
Atlantis flew 33 missions and was named after the principal research vessel at Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute in Massachusetts.
Endeavour flew 25 missions and will be remembered for its delivery of the American module of the International Space station. Furthermore it rescued the Hubble telescope when it appeared that particular project might have to be abandoned. It was named after the vessel commanded by James Cook during his voyages to the Pacific.
Barbara went on a simulated shuttle launch dressed in an orange space suit. I stayed on the ground but even then I did not get to see everything.
A further attraction on the way to KSC was the wild life. We saw buzzards and eagles’ nests. Much of the land around the Space Centre and over towards Cape Canaveral is a wild life reserve and it would be worth a visit just to see the many birds and animals in the area. We saw a large alligator resting in the water with just its eyes and snout above the surface. From the height of the bus we could see the intimidating length of the creature. On the way home our bus had to slow right down to pass a large turtle that plodded across the highway in front of us.
As a result of all this exertion I had a restful time at the hotel spa the following day and I read a book until Barbara was free to join me for dinner.
At this stage I decided to break out of the Disney orbit in order to visit other exhibitions that were on offer in Orlando. Travel to these exhibitions involved taxis which were expensive but seeing something quite different was well worth the effort. I visited a large exhibition in a suburban warehouse dedicated to the 100th anniversary of the loss of the Titanic. Of course I knew the story but the visit was an experience. When I arrived I was given a “Boarding Pass” with the name of a young married woman on it. She was Mrs Sebastiano del Carlo (nee Argene Genovesi) from Lucca Italy. She was aged 24, pregnant and was accompanying her husband in second class to a new home in USA. This couple was one of over 20 newly weds on board.
I took a guided tour with a small group under the leadership of a woman wearing period costume. Her name was Margaret Tobin-Brown, an American socialite, philanthropist and activist who became famous after she survived the sinking of the Titanic. She became known as the unsinkable Molly Brown and there was even a movie made about her. She played her role well and spiced up the visit with personal anecdotes and humour. I was impressed by the luxurious apartments for first class passengers. Molly Brown pointed out some of the special additional facilities such as a swimming pool and a Turkish bath. She also pointed out that the second class facilities were much better than what was available on other ships of this era.
I saw the crockery and silver used on the Titanic. Some of the items on display had been dredged up from the ocean floor and others were used on sister ships. The policy of the White Star Line was not to show the name of the ship on any of the crockery so that it could be used interchangeably with the equipment on other ships owned by that company. I had my photo taken on the grand staircase and watched the DVD of the wreckage that can still be identified after 100 years. At the end of the guided tour we went to see the names of those who had survived the disaster. Naturally more people from First Class were saved and Molly pointed out that despite the policy of women and children being allocated the first places on the lifeboats there were more male survivors from first class than children in second class. The woman named on my “Boarding Pass” survived but her husband did not. She eventually returned to Italy.
I spent about 3 hours at the exhibition as I went back to view it at leisure after the guided tour. As a result of the loss of the Titianic, large passenger ships are required to have better safety equipment and riding lights. Signalling has become standardised so that the internationally recognised call for help is the letters SOS. Navigation has changed after the introduction of GPS and also ships keep a radio watch 24 hours a day. Despite these improvements there are still disasters due to human error. I suppose that all travel is dangerous.
Another exhibition that caught my attention was at the Morse Museum in a far distant suburb. Once again it was a long taxi ride to see a comprehensive collection of works by Louis Comfort Tiffany. He was born in 1848 shortly after his father, Charles Tiffany, founded a modest venture in New York that grew into the internationally prestigious silver and jewellery company. Louis showed early artistic talent and studied in Paris where he developed an abiding interest in the art and design of Eastern and Islamic countries. Louis became a painter and decorator, an architect, photographer and a designer of pottery, enamels, furniture and jewellery in addition to glass lamps, windows, mosaics and vases. He was inspired by nature and late in life he elegantly summed up his long and prolific career as a “Quest of Beauty”.
The museum was established in 1942 by Jeanette McKean and named in honour of her grandfather. She and her husband, Hugh F. McKean, assembled their collection of Tiffany works over several decades. They set up the Charles Hosmer Morse Foundation to support the private Museum in perpetuity. It is the latest venture in a family tradition of philanthropy begun by Charles Hosmer Morse. His wealth came from the manufacture of machinery in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. After a highly successful career he retired from Chicago to Winter Park (now a suburb of Orlando) and became a major benefactor of the town. He gave the land now known as Central Park to the community along with many other less obvious gifts.
The museum has a large and beautiful collection of Tiffany leaded-glass lamps to unique windows made for exhibition. When the lovely windows went out of fashion or the houses where they had been installed were demolished they were acquired by the McKeans. I did not know about the pottery created by Louis Tiffany so I was surprised and delighted to see the vases and other objects inspired by vegetable and flower forms.
The collection includes the Byzantine-Romanesque chapel interior created for the World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893. This work was not intended as a place of worship but rather as a catalogue of the kinds of work that Louis Tiffany could create for his clients. After the Chicago event Tiffany moved the chapel to his studios in New York City. The chapel was substantially modified in 1898 when it was reinstalled in the crypt of New York’s Cathedral Church of St John the Divine, while the church was still under construction. The chapel was used for services for about 10 years then fell into disrepair. In 1916 Tiffany reacquired the chapel and after carrying out restoration work placed it in a small building at his Long Island estate, Laurelton Hall. In 1959, twenty-six years after the death of Louis Tiffany, the McKeans acquired the remains of the chapel and over the following years were able to reassemble all of the furnishings and windows that had been dispersed when the estate was sold.
With the exception of two of the four benches, all of the elements in the museum’s chapel exhibit are original to Tiffany and most date from Chicago 1893. These include the decorative mouldings, altar floor, carved plaster arches, marble and glass mosaic furnishings, four leaded-glass windows, 16 glass-mosaic encrusted columns and a 10x8 foot electrified chandelier. The non historic parts of the chapel – walls, nave floor and ceilings – are based on available knowledge of Tiffany’s installations at Laurelton Hall and Chicago.
Once again there was so much to see and I was there for hours admiring the reconstruction of parts of Laurelton Hall with columns topped with daffodils and flowers growing in pots in the kitchen and so on.
On the last day of the conference Barbara and I took the free shuttle bus to Downtown Disney and wandered around to look at the shops. The place was full of families and children and as we queued for a snack at Ghirardelli’s shop I remembered the wonderful toffee that Barbara brought home from the original San Francisco shop many years ago. Eventually I chose a Sea Salt Banana Caramel Shake and Barbara had something more traditionally laced with chocolate. Both of these treats left us feeling uncomfortably full and lethargic. No wonder there are so many fat children around.
We moved on to the Cirque du Soleil tent where we saw a performance of La Nouba at 6pm. This programme is only performed at this site. It began with a couple of clowns wearing oversized shoes and red noses tripping over and dropping things. The acrobatics were breath taking especially the work on the high wire. There was live music and dancing along with magical costumes and makeup. Even though I enjoyed the performance I was aware of a formulaic presentation. I am probably circussed out now.
We dined at a nearby restaurant called House of Blues that served Cajun fish and chicken dishes. Barbara met some people that she knew from the conference and we all had a good time. Eventually we wandered back to the bus stop amidst the crowds of revellers enjoying a warm night.
The circus performance was our farewell to Orlando. The next morning we put ourselves into the hands of the Mears airport shuttle company and the departure conveyor belt started up. At least there were no delays on the way home as there had been when we arrived. Although we had 90 minutes to make the connection on the way to Orlando, the elaborate security procedures took so long that we missed the plane. We stood in a queue for over an hour waiting to be processed and the impression of inefficiency grew with every passing moment. Once again we had a very short night flying from New York to Glasgow and we were glad to rest once we reached Langbank.
On a previous visit to Scotland I discovered that the refurbishment of Stirling Castle includes the reinterpretation of a 14th century tapestry called “The Hunting of the Unicorn”. Actually it is a series of tapestries and they are being reworked using modern materials by the expert weavers from the West Dean Tapestry Workshop in Sussex. The project has been underway for several years and the last tapestry is on the loom now. I am not sure if it will be completed in time for the Commonwealth Games to be held in Glasgow next year. The last tapestry requires even more skill as the original was cut into pieces many years ago and part of it has been lost. As a result the weavers are trying to imagine what the lost part would have looked like and they are attempting to fill in the gap with something in a similar style to the original.
The tapestries together tell an allegorical story where the unicorn represents Christ and the hunt for Him proceeded on a spiritual as well as on a physical level. It was part of the unicorn legend that the animal could be tamed only by a pure maiden. One of the completed pieces shows the unicorn in an enclosed field where he has been tamed. I guess this relates to the enclosure of Christ in a web of imagination where His light has been dimmed by human inventions.
As the tapestries are completed they are hung in the newly refurbished royal apartments at Stirling Castle. Historic Scotland has spent over GPB 12 million on the whole project that has included the replacement of the ceiling bosses and other decorations, the repainting of the staterooms, the replacement of the original hammer beam ceiling in the medieval banqueting hall and so on. The royal apartments were officially opened by Queen Elizabeth II in early June 2011 to great acclaim and in plenty of time for the observance of significant anniversaries such as the Battle of Flodden Field on 9 September 1513 and the Battle of Bannockburn (24 June 1314). While Flodden was a defeat when over 10,000 Scotsmen died including King James IV (the last King in the British Isles to die in battle) Bannockburn was a victory for Scotland. The observance of the Battle of Flodden was very low key but it is expected that Bannockburn will attract visitors from around the world.
Stirling Castle has already been named as a top tourist destination and there was plenty to see during my visit. Historic Scotland has employed a number of people to act as guides and they play the role in costume of a person living at the castle when Mary Queen of Scots was an infant. Patrick of Wemyss was the well informed and genial host in the Queen’s presence chamber and Janet Fleming (mother of one of the four Marys who accompanied the young Mary Queen of Scots to France) told stories in the waiting room. There was another woman in the Bedchamber but I cannot remember her name.
I spent so much time in the castle that I was almost too late to see the Church of the Holy Rude next door. King James VI was crowned there on 29 July 1567. This makes the Church of the Holy Rude, Gloucester Abbey (now Cathedral) and Westminster Abbey the only churches in Britain still in use to this day that have been the sites of coronations. My visit to the church was too short to see much except for the colours of the Royal Regiment of Scotland laid up at the Regimental Church after the presentation of new colours by HM Queen Elizabeth II in June 2011.
Barbara and I met Joan McGregor at a Clan Gathering and she has maintained contact with Barbara ever since. She came to stay on her way to a week of bird watching in the north and we went to see the church at Bridge of Weir where her grandfather had been the minister. There is an interesting history of doctrinal schisms amongst the people in the area. The church congregation at Burntshields split into three factions in 1792 and attendance began dropping. It was eventually decided to build a new church at Bridge of Weir where the population was growing due to the expansion of the cotton trade. Prior to 1826 there was no church at all in the village and people travelled as best they could to the parish kirks in the neighbouring towns or to churches located further afield according to their denomination.
The new church opened in May 1826 but was soon affected by further disunity so the minister, elders and most of the congregation left the Established Church and began worshipping at the Free Church School in Houston Road.
At that time the church buildings were subject to a large mortgage of 420 pounds so they were purchased at auction by Robert Freeland, a steadfast supporter of the Free Church cause. He gave the church and the manse to the Free Church for the benefit of the congregation. The name “Freeland” became associated with the church. In the vestibule is a plaque inscribed with the words “ In memory of Robert Freeland, of Gryffe Castle Died march 29, 1874 aged 79. This building was given by him in 1844, to the Free Church of Scotland for the use of the inhabitants of Bridge of Weir. RES NON VERBA.” George Scott Freeland, a brother of Robert Freeland, gifted the front hall building to the church in 1857.
The Rev John McGregor became the 9th minister in 1858 and remained for nearly 10 years before moving to St Luke’s Free Church, Glasgow in 1868. He was the last minister to occupy the Old Manse by the River Gryffe.
We also visited the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds wetland reserve at Lochwinnoch where we were able to see a variety of birds such as ducks and sparrows as well as swans. There was an elevated vantage point as well as several positions where we could observe the countryside using field glasses.
On 19 August I flew to Bristol where Tony Kerr met me and drove me to his home Marshfield. On Mondays, Tony and Sally often go for a walk with their neighbours but picking me up meant a change in the routine. Although there was no walking we joined the others for lunch at the farm of one of the walkers. This was a simply delightful way to spend a fine morning and I will certainly suggest to the members of my book group that we should do something similar. Later that day Carolyn and Philip Evans arrived from Bristol where they have been preparing to undertake grandparent duties. We had a long convivial catch up. The last time we saw each other was at Wanaka.
Sally took Carolyn and me to Edington where she had mislaid her handbag at a concert the night before my arrival. On the way we stopped at the charming village of Steeple Ashton, close to the military airfield at Keevil. Despite the name the village church does not have a steeple. According to local historians the former steeple was struck by lightning in the 17th century. The steeple was rebuilt and received a second lightning strike. Many of the locals opposed further building as two strikes seemed to indicate divine disapproval.
The word “steeple” or “staple” can also indicate that a town has the right to hold a market and in fact Steeple Ashton was a market town. A market cross still stands on the village green. It must have been a prosperous place until the mill moved to Trowbridge.
When we visited the local church the porch was being repaired so we could not enter by the usual door. The church is still lit by candles and is a tranquil space surrounded by the resting places of former inhabitants of the village.
Later that day we drove to Winsley to meet Helen and Harold Jones and 7 of us went walking together through the fields and down the hill to the canal then up to admire views of Bath. I found that I became breathless and had trouble keeping up. This was the first time I had been walking with a group since Nepal and I seem to need more practice. We took the bus back to the Jones home for supper and more talk about the good old days.
Unfortunately the Evanses had to return home on the Wednesday but before they left we inspected the garden at Tony’s allotment. He is an energetic gardener and I have been inspired by his good example. There are few more satisfying things than to entertain guests with fresh produce from the garden. We followed them along part of their way to Edington where there is a Festival of Music within the Liturgy happening at the parish church. At 3.30 pm we attended a choral evensong service. It was not a concert but rather a celebration of the liturgy with music composed by various people. This year the festival was inspired by the lives and work of female saints and this particular day honoured Blessed Teresa of Calcutta. The women honoured on the other days of the Festival were St Cecelia, Julian of Norwich , St Teresa of Lisieux, St Teresa of Avila and the Virgin Mary.
The service was broadcast by the BBC and included the first performance of a work commissioned by the Festival written by Neil Cox based on words used by Teresa of Calcutta – “ the fruit of silence is prayer”. It was just beautiful. Other music included works by Sir William Harris and Orlando Gibbons.
Tony and Sally took me to visit the Chedworth Roman Villa. This large archaeological site was discovered by accident in 1894 and was excavated and put on display shortly after. It is one of the largest Roman villas in Britain and was constructed in phases from the early 2nd century to the 4th Century. The later work transformed the original building into a superior dwelling arranged around three sides of a courtyard. The 4th century building included a heated and furnished west wing containing a dining room (triclinium) with a fine mosaic floor as well as two separate bathing suites – one for damp and the other for dry heat.
The villa stands in a sheltered position overlooking the River Coln in the Cotswolds just off the Roman road known as the Fosse Way. It is one of about 50 villas in the Cotswolds and one of nine within a radius of 8km. There is a natural spring in the north-west corner of the compound. This was the water supply for the villa and the inhabitants built a shrine nearby in honour of the water nymphs. Next to the spring there was a curved wall about 2m high and it is the original Roman masonry.
About 800m from the villa was discovered the foundations of a temple of Romano-British origin where artefacts such as coins and glass tesserae were found. Another building was destroyed in 1869 during the construction of a railway.
The pavement mosaics in several rooms exhibit geometrical meander patterns similar to those found in Roman villas throughout England. The dining room floor contains one of the most elaborate geometric designs found in the villa. Unfortunately there are substantial portions of the mosaic pattern missing but it is expected that using a simple mathematical algorithm it can be reconstructed.
On the day of our visit the archaeologists were working on a pathway outside the bathing area. There was a weaver demonstrating the use of an ingenious loom with pattern templates instead of heddles to create many different ribbon designs. A bag of small rectangular templates had been discovered at a site in eastern Europe and when it was established that these dated from the correct period, modern copies were made for educational purposes at sites such as Chedworth.
It was a splendid place and a most interesting visit. It was clear that in Roman times there had been a class of people who were wealthy enough to live in such luxury. It is less clear what happened to them as the Roman Empire collapsed. We may never have answers to such questions. Meanwhile the National Trust has gone to great lengths to protect the remains of the villa by constructing an architecturally designed pavilion over a portion of the site. Tony told me that the concept was translated into reality by the same firm that designed the renovations to the home where he and Sally are now living at Marshfield.
Fowey is an ancient harbour town built on a hill. It has narrow winding streets making access difficult except for the enthusiastic walkers who abound in the area. The town has all the usual shops and plenty of fish restaurants as would be expected at the seaside. According to the 2001 census the population of Fowey was 2273 and from my observations it does not seem much bigger than that today.
The Domesday Book recorded two manors in the area and a priory was established soon after at Tywrdreath. About 1300 the Prior granted a charter to people living in Fowey itself. The natural harbour allowed trade links to develop with Europe and local ship owners often hired their vessels to the king to support various wars. Along with many other towns Fowey developed a reputation for piracy and a group of privateers known as the Fowey Gallants were given license to seize French vessels during the Hundred Years’ War. As a result the town was attacked by French forces in 1457. Later a small castle was built on the western side of the harbour entrance proving its worth when a Dutch attack was beaten off in 1667.
The people of Fowey sided with the Royalists during the Civil War. The area was occupied by the Parliamentarians in 1644 but they were defeated by the King.
The fortunes of the harbour became reduced. Trade went to Plymouth and elsewhere. Fishing became important but local merchants engaged in piracy as a sideline. Tin, copper and iron mines along with quarries and china clay pits became the mainstays of the area. The natural deep water anchorage gave Fowey an advantage over the shallower harbours near the mines. A railway was opened to facilitate the transport of resources and later passengers.
On the other side of the estuary lies the village of Polruan and upriver can be found the towns of Golant, Lostwithiel, Lerryn and St Winnow. When I visited these places the history of mining and piracy was evident everywhere. A pub on the foreshore at Fowey is called The King of Prussia after the smuggler and privateer, John Carter, who is said to have resided there in the 1780s. There were street names and stories recalling the colourful history of the town.
The beautiful scenery of the area has been the inspiration for many authors including Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, Daphne du Maurier and Kenneth Grahame along with many other notables. Daphne du Maurier lived and worked there for many years and since her death in 1989 a festival has been held in Fowey in her honour. Today this event is known as the Fowey Festival of Words and Music and I was there from 9 to 17 May.
Barbara Wortley has attended the festival in previous years and her enthusiastic promotion of the natural beauty and the cultural events aroused my interest so this year I joined Barbara and Lynne Fox at a self catering apartment in the basement of a Regency house known as Carnethic House. We had every amenity including three bathrooms, a lovely garden as well as a swimming pool and sauna. The apartment was one of six in that house and was handy to the bus stop and a relatively short walk into the town centre. The house was pet friendly. Barbara brought along her cockatoo (Woody)and we made friends with a lollopy dog and a rather stand offish cat.
I flew to Bristol then took a train to Par where Barbara and Lynn picked me up and we drove to Fowey where I was enchanted like so many before me. We had a most splendid week of fine weather and culture. We started off making a visit to Plymouth to attend a matinee of “Mid Summer Night’s Dream” performed by an all male theatre group called Propellor. The acting and the production were magnificent and I shall be interested in seeing any other performances by this team. The man who played the role of Puck was a triumph of athleticism and wit. I think it was the best production of MSD that I have ever seen. After the play we wandered around the city looking at the ancient walls and the docks. We walked around at Plymouth Hoe so I now understand where Drake played bowls while the Spanish Armada approached. We stopped at The Globe in Lostwithiel for dinner and found it a warm and friendly place with a well deserved reputation for good food.
The following day we walked with a guide around Fowey to see places associated with the life of Daphne du Maurier including the place where her children attended school and the houses they lived in. We tried out the local pasties for lunch then visited the Secret Garden to wander amongst the flowers and shrubs.
On subsequent days we went on a guided walk of Lerryn and learned that Kenneth Grahame spent part of his boyhood messing about in boats in that area. We enjoyed a most generous picnic lunch served by a local farmer and his wife near St Winnow’s Church. In fact we consumed such a large portion of the good things of the earth that we could not face an evening meal.
Another guided walk from Mosey to Mixto was harder and more tiring. We had to refresh ourselves at an iconic cafe called Pinky’s where the china did not match but the cakes were simply superb. That evening we took the passenger ferry to Polruan and had dinner at the seaside inn called The Lugger. We walked up the hill to the Village Hall and attended a performance of Noel Coward’s “Private Lives” which was hilarious.
We walked around Lostwithiel located at the head of the Fowey Estuary. It is an historic borough that despite its small population was able to elect two members to the Unreformed House of Commons but it was disenfranchised by the Reform Act of 1832. It was originally a port town but the harbour silted up due to excessive streaming for tin on the moors. It lost its trade to Fowey and the fortunes of the town have fluctuated ever since. The population now is about 2700. After a sunny picnic lunch when we enjoyed the products from Fran’s Bakery beside the river we carried on to visit the little church of St Sampson at Golant.
St Sampson is associated with miracles in Cornwall and Brittany. He was born about 485AD and educated at the Abbey of Llaniltud Fawr where he showed early promise and was ordained a deacon then a priest. On both occasions a dove appeared beside him during the ceremony so he was clearly marked out for greatness. He founded monasteries at Padstow, Southill and Golant as well as visiting the Scilly Islands and gathering as disciples St Austell and St Mewan. He also founded a small monastic settlement near the site of the present church. One day as he was feeling faint after fasting he prayed to receive the water of comfort and nearby water began to flow over the rocks. St Sampson's well is still flowing to this day.
The church is associated with the story of Tristan and Iseult. It is said that Iseult came there to pray for forgiveness after eloping with Tristan. She donated a rich dark blue robe ornamented with gold thread to the Church. The robe was worth a fortune according to the legend. The story of the lovers also refers to a battle fought between Tristan and Morholt, the Irish Champion, on the river bank near St Winnow's Church. Later after the lovers had eloped together and been caught by King Mark Tristan was to be executed on the bank of the Fowey just beyond St Catherine's chapel. Tristan pleased with his captors to be allowed to pray in the chapel. His wish was granted and he jumped out of the window at a spot still known as Tristan's Leap.
Later that day we attended a concert in the parish church at Fowey where Jonathan Delbridge performed on both piano and organ in a recital of classical and popular music.
We took advantage of Barbara’s car to visit the Heligan Gardens and the Eden Project which were both spectacular. I had heard so much about Heligan that I was determined to visit the place. I was not disappointed and I have done just enough gardening to realise how much work has been involved to transform the overgrown wilderness into the place that we saw. It is a century since the gardeners left the property to go to war. The place fell into a ruin as the war changed society for ever. Now at last there are ongoing efforts combining the skills of numerous experts to recreate the gardens for the benefit of all.
Similarly, the Eden Project has been brought into being in order to disguise a china clay pit. There are two huge enclosures consisting of adjoining domes that house thousands of plant species. One of the domes emulates a tropical environment and the other a Mediterranean climate. The project is famous for its pioneering ecological initiatives. The spectacular effect has been created since 1998 and it has been open to the public since March 2001. We spent most of the day wandering around the site admiring the views and the planting.
All too soon it was our last day in Fowey. We went shopping and lunched on Bouillabaisse at Sam’s restaurant (another local icon). We visited Vivien Prideaux, a fibre artist, in her studio and attended the final concert in St Finbarr’s Church. Tina May presented an excellent programme of jazz and popular songs including Latin American material and several chansons made famous by Edith Piaff. She was accompanied by a trio led by award winning pianist, Craig Milverton. It was a sparkling evening in very traditional surroundings.
After all this enrichment it was hard to leave Fowey but we are already thinking of doing it all again. I would recommend Fowey to anyone.
I arrived in Truro by train and installed myself comfortably in Mannings Hotel intending to see more of the wonderful Cornwall countryside. The town is situated at the head of the River Fal and is dominated by a 19th century Neo-Gothic cathedral. The cathedral foundation stone was laid by the Duke of Cornwall (later Edward VII) on 20 May 1880. It had been 600 years since a new cathedral had been built in England (Salisbury 1220) and nearly 800 years since Cornwall had its own Bishop. The cathedral is constucted of Cornish granite with all the usual decorations such as carvings in softer Bath stone as well as windows, pillars and towers. It contains many treasures but unusually for a Western Church there is an icon dedicated to the Virgin of Tenderness of Vladimir. The original was painted by an unknown artist in Constantinople about 1125 ADfor the Cathedral of Vladimir but can now be found in Moscow.
Just down the road from my hotel was the Hall for Cornwall. As luck would have it there was a Shakespeare play performance on 20 May so I went along to see "As You Like It". The players were from Bristol and gave a creditable reading but it would have liked it a lot better if I had not just seen Propellor in MSD. I travelled around mostly by train to seaside towns and art galleries. The weather stayed mostly fine but when it rained I went to the museum. I was able to visit a large number of neighbouring towns during my stay.
St Ives is another great seafaring town dating from the Middle Ages. According to legend St Ia or Hya, a Virgin Saint of noble birth founded an oratory on the site of the existing parish church which is dedicated to her. This 15th century church has the rare distinction of having three church wardens – said to have originated as one for the vicar, one for the seafarers and one for the miners and land workers. The town was granted a charter by Edward I in 1295 and has gone from strength to strength since then.
The importance of the town grew with the development of the harbour. St Ives had its own shipping company called The Hain Line. The company was formed in 1878. Its headquarters were in St Ives and an old logo can still be seen in the town. The Hain Line was associated with the White Star Line and some of its employees joined the crew of the ill fated Titanic. A member of the Hain family gave some land to erect a memorial for those who were lost on that ship. In 1917 the Hain Line became part of the P&O family but continued to operate under its own name and colours until 1964.
The train station is at one end of the town and I walked to see art galleries shops and restaurants along the seashore. The railway made the town accessible to artists and it is now known as a place where the special quality of the light provides endless inspiration. Amongst the artists who settled in St Ives was Barbara Hepworth. She worked at the Trewin Studios from 1949 to her death in 1975. She wished to establish her home and studio as a museum of her work and today there are sculptures in bronze, stone and wood on display along with drawings and archival material. The sub tropical garden was an essential part of her creative process and many of her most famous works were created there. After her death the garden became a permanent setting to exhibit her works. Many of the bronzes are in the positions where she herself placed them. The art works are in the care of the Tate Gallery. Sadly I was unable to see the Hepworth sculpture of the Madonna and Child in the local church as the place was locked tight and I could not find anyone to open it for me to admire the work. This sculpture was created after the death of her son, Paul Skeaping, in a plane crash in 1953. Her second marriage to Ben Nicholson produced triplet girls.
Other artists who were attracted by the light and the pale sand beaches, turquoise sea and lush vegetation included Bernard Leach, Alfred Wallis, Ben Nicholson and Christopher Wood. Many of them took refuge at this remote spot as the chaos and turmoil of WW II made life difficult in more populated areas.
The Tate St Ives Gallery is a part of a network of 4 galleries housing the United Kingdom’s national collection of British art. Founded in 1993 the modern building overlooks the beach where the St Ives School of Surfing is based. I lunched in a restaurant overlooking the beach on a dull windy day but the surfers were out in force. The gallery was exhibiting modern art to celebrate its 21st birthday. There is a programme of events throughout the year for gallery members and art enthusiasts.
On another dull day I took the train to Penzance and walked along the coast to St Michael’s Mount where a fairy tale castle clings to the top of a small island. It is a tidal island about 400 yards off the coast. It is linked to the town of Marazion by a man made causeway of granite setts passable between mid tide and low water.
The chronicler, John of Worcester, relates under the year 1099 that St Michael’s Mount was located 5 or 6 miles from the sea enclosed in a thick wood but in November of that year the sea overflowed the land. Towns were destroyed and many people drowned along with their stock. Other sources give different dates but the essential details are that a disastrous flood changed the relationship of the sea and the land in this area.
Historically St Michael’s Mount was a Cornish counterpart of Mont Saint-Michel in Normandy, France (which shares the same tidal island characteristics and conical shape) when it was given to the Benedictines religious order of Mont Saint-Michel by Edward the Confessor in the 11th century.
At the end of 2009, parts of an axe head, dagger and intact metal clasp were found on the Mount. The British Museum has confirmed that these items date back to the Bronze Age. They are on display in the castle.
The monastery at the top of the island was replaced by a castle and today it is the official residence of Lord St Leven and is still the home of James and Mary St Aubyn today. I did not meet them during my visit but there were many indications that the property is still in use. The relics housed in the castle are chiefly armour and antique furniture. The chapel of St Michael is a 15th Century building with a small turret that served for the guidance of ships. Today there is a row of 8 houses facing Marazion. These are tenanted by workers on the estate and are watered by a spring. There are gardens on the side of the hill boasting an avenue of cabbage trees.
When I arrived the tide was high so I went across the water in a boat and landed at the medieval harbour. Walking up to the castle along a very steep path had me quite out of breath. The views were spectacular and the sky scapes second to none. I was able to walk along the causeway to Marazion but by then I was too tired to look for the standing stones in the area. Next time I hope to see the ring of stones known locally as the Merry Maidens.
I almost did not make it to the Trelissick Gardens as the weather looked dull and it was trying to rain. I had planned to travel down river by ferry but the tide was wrong and the idea of being on a boat in the rain did not appeal. I took a small local bus and had to change to an even smaller one but the driver took me into the grounds where I had to wait until the office opened before I was allowed to make a visit. By this time it was raining lightly so I was starting to feel that I should not have left Truro. As soon as I paid the fee the sun peeped out and the day brightened up as I admired the gardens and the views of the river. I saw the ferry passing to and fro from a vantage point amidst the flowers. It was very beautiful.
Later in the day I took another bus to Falmouth, the third largest deep water harbour in the world. I spent most of the rest of the day in the Maritime Museum where I learned a lot more about the pirates and smugglers and also about the Royal National Lifeboat Institution. There was a lot more to see but the museum was closing. The weather had improved a lot by this time so I went to the wharf and bought a ticket to go up river by ferry. I had a coffee on the wharf as I waited and i listened to a guitarist who played the first Villa Lobos Prelude at my request.
I asked the harbour master about the memorial plaque for the raid on St Nazaire docks. There were the shapes of 5 oversized Victoria Crosses set into the concrete pavement. These attracted my attention and I could not resist asking about what happened. In 1942 the Allied shipping was being harried by U Boats and a new battle ship called the Tirpitz was expected to create more havoc than any other ship of that class if it entered the North Atlantic. The only dock capable of providing shelter for this ship was at St Nazaire. On 28 March 1942 a combined operation force of Army Commandos, Royal Navy and Coastal Forces charged into this German Naval base after a 400 mile sea voyage from Falmouth. The destroyer HMS Campbelltown filled with explosives rammed the Dock Gates. A huge explosion destroyed the gates. Meanwhile commandos desttryed the pumps and winding gear under heavy fire. Of the 17 wooden motor launches that set out from Falmouth, 14 were destroyed in a river of burning fuel. Of the 622 men who took part in this raid a quater were killed and 200 were captured and became prisoners of war in such places as Colditz. The St Nazaire Dock was not used again during WWII.
Five Victoria Crosses were awarded ... the most extensive of any action in WWII and the raid became known as “The Greatest Raid of All”. VCs were awarded to
• Able Seaman W A Savage RNVR VC who stood throughout the raid on the deck firing a “Pom Pom Gun” with exceptional skill and courage. He was eventually killed by shrapnel and his body was buried in Falmouth.
• Lieutenant Commander L H Beattie RN VC did not falter as he brought the HMS Campbelltown to its target while under heavy fire and in the glare of searchlights
• Lieutenant Colonel Charles Newman VC whose resolute spirit carried his men to the heights of daring and devotion ensuring the success of “Operation Chariot”
• Commander R E D Ryder RN VC was able to take his motor launch back down the river during which voyage he engaged an enemy ship and put it to flight by superior gunnery, while at the same time dealing with a raging fire on the deck of his craft.
• Sergeant T F Durrant RE VC who remained at his post firing steadily at the enemy until his body was riddled with bullets when his motor launch was attacked by a German destroyer ‘Jaguar’ as the raiders were on their way back to Falmouth. Despite the Captain of the “Jaguar” calling repeatedly for their surrender, the crew of the motor launch did not give in until 20 out of 28 of them were either dead or wounded. The German Captain recommended Sgt Durrant for the award.
As the ferry left Falmouth we passed the castle of St Mawes built by Henry VIII as protection against seaborne attacks. It is said that he spent his honeymoon with Anne Boleyn there. Today the castle and the village are quiet and peaceful.
The tide was dropping too low for the ferry to go all the way to Truro so we changed to a bus for the last leg of the journey. The roads were narrow and it did not seem possible that two vehicles could pass each other. All ideas of a quick trip had to be abandoned. We reached the bus station across the road from Mannings Hotel just on dusk. I had an excellent dinner in the hotel dining room.
I arranged to meet Phil and Vicky at Exeter Railway Station. It was a wet and dreary day and they got caught up in traffic as they were leaving London and arrived much later than expected. We abandoned the plan to explore Exeter and set out immediately for Tintagel where we stayed in the Camelot Castle Hotel. The hotel stands on a cliff top with commanding views out to sea. It is an old building now but it was comfortable and suited our needs. It was originally intended as accommodation for railway travellers but the rail line was never built and so the huge hotel stands alone at some distance from the nearest village. It is now staffed by people from Poland. An artist has his studio in the basement. An effort has been made to decorate the hotel with references to the legend of King Arthur and the knights of the round table.
We explored the ruined castle of Tintagel where legend has it that King Arthur was born. It is also said that the castel is associated with the story of Tristan and Iseult. The castle is set high on the rugged coast of North Cornwall where we admired the extensive flat horizon where the sea met the sky. The documented history of this locality stretches back to Roman times. The museum at Truro has a display of items found there. No structure dating from the Roam era has been found. It was settled during the early medieval period when it may have been one of the summer residences of the King of Dumnonia. The castle dates from the 13th century and was built by Richard, Earl of Cornwall. Archaeological excavations in the 1930s revealed significant traces of a much earlier high status settlement with trading links in the Mediterranean region during the late Roman period.
We drove into the Bodmin Moor area and visited an owl sanctuary. This family friendly attraction had a number of birds of prey that would be brought out to meet visitors. The staff members were friendly and knowledgeable about the birds and their habits. The well trained birds took it in turns to fly from their handler to a perch an back again. I was pleased to meet a morepork as well as other large birds. There were other animals to admire but it began to drizzle so we retired to the cafe.
The following day we drove to Falmouth and looked at the museum and the castle then stopped in the tiny village of Mitchell to dine at an excellent restaurant called “The Plume of Feathers” next door to a 16th century coaching inn. It was very picturesque and the meal and service were excellent. The place was child friendly ... there was a youngster at the table next to us and she had a lovely time too.
On our last day we looked around the village and drove towards Salisbury. We stopped at Old Sarum to look around a place with three thousand years of history. The Iron Age fort is now deserted but it was clearly an important place in the past. It was strategically sited at the conjunction of two trade routes and the Avon River. The huge earthen ramparts enclose a roughly oval shaped area 400m long and 360 m wide. The defences consist of a double bank with an intermediate ditch and an entrance on the eastern side.
Romans built the town of Sorviodunum, Saxons used the site as a stronghold against the Viking raiders, and the Normans built a stone curtain wall around the Iron Age perimeter. There was a Norman castle and a later one built for Henry I that was subsequently used by Plantagenet monarchs. A Norman cathedral and bishop’s residence were built at the western end of the town. In 1219 the cathedral was demolished in favour of a new one sited near the river and the population moved to a new town called New Salisbury or New Sarum. The castle fell out of use and was sold for materials by Henry VIII.
By the 19th century the settlement was officially uninhabited but it still had parliamentary representation making it the most notorious of the rotten boroughs that existed before the Reform Act of 1832.
Phil and Vicky dropped me at Salisbury Railway Station just as Carolyn and Philip Evans arrived to find me. We could not stop for lengthy introductions due to the restricted parking so we transferred my belongings quickly from one car to another. The Evans party went into Salisbury where we later met Tony and Sally Kerr. We all attended a concert of the Hilliard Ensemble at Salisbury Cathedral to my great delight. I have been an admirer of the Hilliard Ensemble since I heard their first CD called “Officium” sometime in the 1990s. I still play that CD where they collaborated with Norwegian Jazz saxophonist, Jan Garbarek. Their repertoire from ancient plainsong to Arvo Part is wildly popular but they have decided to disband the group as three of the singers feel that it is time to retire due to their advancing years. The Salisbury concert was part of the farewell tour.
The music was sublime and the acoustics were lovely. The all-male vocal quartet is known for its ice-pure tone, piercing attack and soaring spacious phrasing. They were right on form for this concert and I was not aware of any aging. During the concert they left the stage and walked around the cathedral so that the sound appeared to change and move. I am so pleased that I was lucky enough to be at this concert.
We arrived at the cathedral just in time to take our seats so there was not time to take photos of this splendid building. This will be an excellent reason for me to return to this area another time.
I stayed with Carolyn and Philip that night and on the next day we explored Southampton. I was very interested to see the Titanic Exhibition which was so different from the one that I visited in Orlando last year. This version concentrated on the lives and circumstances of real crew members who came from the Southampton area. These people were identified through photos and traced through genealogical records and the whole story came alive. It was extremely well curated.
That night a happy group of former Tramping Club members and spouses dined at the Kerr home in Marshfield. The Evans stayed the night and we went walking to the canal near Winsley and across the aqueducts to enjoy the green and pleasant land. There were birds, fishermen and barges as well as talk and laughter. I remember years ago doing part of the same walk with Helen and Harold but I think the trees have grown so some of the views were different. We all returned to the Jones home for refreshments and the Evanses and I stayed with the Kerrs again.
As always my reunions with the former members of AUTC was too short. Carolyn and Philip took me into Bristol on the way to the airport. We went to the Bristol Museum and Art Gallery to see an exhibit called English Magic with which Jeremy Deller represented the UK at the Venice Biennale in 2013. The exhibit included a series of black and white photos of the David Bowie concerts in UK and a wonderful movie of birds of prey flying in slow motion over the countryside. The sound track was provided by a steel band playing such music as the slow movement from the Vaughan Williams 5th Symphony. We visited the harbour area and took a short boat trip to see the sights then to my regret it was time to head back to Glasgow.
On 1st June Barbara and I visited the magnificent Mount Stuart Estate owned by the Marquess of Bute. The public transport links worked seamlessly as we alighted from the train and boarded the ferry to the Island of Bute. At the ferry terminal we took the bus to the estate and we were dropped off at the visitors’ centre. It was a dull day and the drizzle started as we began to walk around the gardens.
The Crichton-Stuart family, Marquesses of Bute, can trace their ancestry back to Walter Fitz-alan who became Steward to King David I and who is said to be the grandson of Fleance who escaped when his father (Banquo) was murdered by Macbeth. The office of Steward became hereditary in 1157 and it is from this period that the surname of the Butes originated. The name Crichton was added in 1805. By 1204 the Butes held lands in Bute and in 1315 the then Steward married the daughter of King Robert the Bruce ... their son was the first of the Stuart kings. The family has lived on the Island of Bute for 700 years and on the present site for 300 years.
The 3rd Earl of Bute (1713 – 1792) chose many of the furnishings still to be found in the house. He had an extraordinary career as a statesman and patron of the arts. His son, the 4th Earl was subsequently created Marquess of Bute in 1796. The 2nd Marquess of Bute (1793-1848) secured the family fortune by having the vision to develop Cardiff Docks making that city into a major port. It was his son, the 3rd Marquess (1847-1900) who benefitted most from this shrewd investment. When he came of age in 1868 he had a gross annual income of 300,000 pounds sterling making him reputedly the richest man in Britain. He was a scholar, historian, archaeologist, romantic and mystic as well as being a patron of the arts. He restored and recreated historic buildings in Scotland such as Falkland Palace, the House of Falkland, the Old Place of Mochrum, the Greyfriars at Elgin, Sanquhar Castle, Pluscarden Priory and Dunblane Cathedral. He sponsored some 60 building projects and was the patron to a dozen architects. His wealth has benefitted the nation through these projects.
During the 19th Century Britain witnessed a Gothic architectural revival influencing all kinds of buildings. The most important work of the 3rd Marquess was to restore his ancestral home after a fire destroyed the first house in 1877. From the ashes of the old Mount Stuart rose a Gothic palace fusing a powerful architectural statement with intricate details and lavish designs. Unfortunately the house was never finished and an ambitious restoration project begun by the 6th Marquess in the 1980s continues to this day.
The new Mount Stuart was very much the personal dream of the 3rd Marquess and he was largely responsible for the sumptuous interiors of the house. He often personally supervised the numerous craftsmen and artists involved for a period of 20 years. Today the house is cared for by the Mount Stuart trust established in 1989. The aims of the Trust include the preservation and maintenance of the house and gardens for public benefit and this has resulted in the creation of an innovative new building to house the Mount Stuart Visitor Centre.
We took a guided tour of the house and learned a lot of interesting information. The swimming pool at Mount Stuart was the first heated pool in any house. A telephone cable was connected in 1887 and Mount Stuart was the first house in Scotland to be lit by electricity.
The house has a splendid marble hall with stained glass windows and other decorations representing the signs of the zodiac. There are two great tapestries adorning the walls of the marble hall. These were produced by the Dovecot Studio in Edinburgh (established by the 4th Marquess in 1912). One tapestry represents a hunting scene in the Scottish Highlands and the other shows a Highland Games scene. The work was begun by two master weavers, John Glassbrook and Gordon Berry. They were both killed during WWI and when work began again in 1919 their initials were woven into the border. There was a conservatory that was used as a hospital during WWI and beautiful tiled bathrooms as well as ornate fireplaces. I am sure that I will pay other visits there in future.
Photography was forbidden inside the house so I could not record any of the luxurious furnishings and architectural details. We had a light lunch in what must have been the servants’ quarters and wandered back to the bus stop in the rain and as it was so dull I did not take any pictures of the exterior of the house either. The transport arrangements worked equally well on the way home.
On 2nd June I was able to return to Orkney Islands in order to fulfil my promise to Rosemary McLaughlin to give a Baha’i talk during the year of celebrations for the 60th anniversary of the Baha’i Faith there. The first Baha’i in the Orkney Islands was Charles Dunning and he was a colourful character by all accounts. He made a Pilgrimage and met the Guardian some years after Margaret Stevenson, the first believer in New Zealand, made that journey in 1925.
Although David and Rosemary McLaughlin live at Rendall in a rural area, I noticed that there are other houses that have been built nearby since my last visit. There is now a standing stone in the front garden but most noticeable of all is the way that both Abigail and Gareth have grown. Abigail is in her last year at school and has become an articulate and enquiring young woman. Gareth has developed a delicious sense of humour even though he claims to do “not much”. Rosemary is still teaching full time but David has retired and combines the role of home maker with various community activities.
Last time I went to the Orkney Islands by ferry but this time I flew from Glasgow airport. David met me at Kirkwall and on the way to the family home we stopped to look at the Italian Chapel and the Churchill Barriers. These relics of WWII play an important part in the life of the Orcadians to this day. The Orkney Islands are arranged in a group around a natural harbour called Scapa Flow. Despite the strong tidal flow this harbour provided a safe haven from the wild North Sea over the centuries and at the start of WWII it was an important naval base as it was considered impregnable.
The Royal Navy was using the base when a U Boat under the command of Gunther Prien entered the harbour and torpedoed the “Royal Oak”. The ship sank with the loss of 833 men. Fortunately the rest of the ships were out of the harbour on an exercise or the losses could have been disastrous. Prien was decorated by Hitler for his actions and Churchill decided to use Italian prisoners of war to build barriers between certain of the islands to close off some of the entrances to Scapa Flow making the harbour easier to defend. The official explanation was that the POWs built causeways so that the civilian population could travel on dry land from one island to another. POWs were not supposed to be put to work on projects that would help the war effort.
The causeways are still used every day by traffic passing between the islands. David pointed out that the barriers are low lying and when there is a storm it is not safe to use them but people want the local authorities to build them higher so that they can be used in all weather. The “Royal Oak” still lies on the bottom of Scapa Flow and it is recognised as a war cemetery.
The Italian POWs were held on the Orkney Islands for several years. They were Catholics and requested a place to be set aside for worship. They were allocated a Nissan hut which was painted by one of the prisoners to look like a stone interior with the Madonna and Child depicted behind the altar. All of the fittings were made out of scrap metal or other unwanted materials. After the war the chapel continued to be used from time to time and 50 years later a group of former POWs visited. They were surprised and delighted to find that the Orcadians had looked after the chapel. It was agreed that the original artist would repaint it. In April 2014 the daughter of the original artist came to see the place where her father was so well remembered. At her request arrangements were made for the Mass to be offered in the Italian language. The local priest invited the Papal Nuncio and the Archbishop of the United Kingdom to officiate making a special occasion that united the faithful from Italy and Orkney.
Just outside the chapel, the prisoners left a memorial in concrete of St George slaying the Dragon. They wished to symbolise their triumph over defeat and loneliness during their days of captivity. Inside the base of the statue is a roll recording the names of the prisoners and some Italian coins.
On 3rd June David and I visited St Magnus Cathedral to see the less frequented parts of the building with a guide. We climbed up a narrow staircase to the gallery where we could look down on the nave. We could appreciate the coloured windows and the stories about the history of the cathedral as well as some of the athletic feats of those who hung the chandeliers. We could even see some windows that are not visible to the worshippers.
In a loft close to the roof we saw a number of disused treasures including a 17th century Dutch collection plate and a leaf window, the pattern of which was once prevalent in the Cathedral together with the mechanism for the church clock.
The cathedral is constructed from red sandstone quarried from Head of Holland north of Kirkwall and yellow sandstone believed to come from Eday, one of the northern islands. Sandstone is a soft material and has weathered over the years. Much of the original stonework was fashioned by medieval master masons. It is believed that they were trained during the work at Durham Cathedral and good examples of their work can still be admired in the south transept doorway and around the doorways in the west end.
The cathedral is dedicated to St Magnus, the patron Saint of Orkney. Magnus was known as a pious man of peace while his cousin, Haakon was more warlike. There was discord between the two and eventually Magnus was killed on the island of Egilsay about 12 miles north of Kirkwall. The cathedral was founded in 1137 by Rognvald as a final resting place for the relics of St Magnus. Today the remains of both St Magnus and St Rognvald lie within the cathedral.
The crossing, choir, transepts and around two-thirds of the nave were completed by the 1150s. The crossing collapsed around 1170 and was rebuilt with new square chapels possibly based on the rectangular chapels at Nidaros (Trondheim) cathedral. Haakon Haakonsson was one of the greatest of the Norwegian kings. In December 1263 he died in the Bishop’s palace on his way home from the Battle of Largs. In the floor a marble plaque donated by the Norwegian Government commemorates his temporary burial in the cathedral. A statue of St Olaf was presented by the Bishop of Nidaros as a gift from the Church of Norway on the occasion of the cathedral’s 800th anniversary. A Norwegian Bible was gifted by the people of Hordaland and to this day a strong link with Norway is maintained.
As with any cathedral in the United Kingdom it is full of history and memorials to local people. It has similarities to the institution of the wharenui in New Zealand where the decorations refer to different ancestors. In St Magnus Cathedral there is a statue of a sleeping man with a rifle. He is John Rae, an Arctic explorer who lived with the Inuit people and discovered the fate of the last expedition of Sir John Franklin. The ship’s bell recovered from the “Royal Oak” is also preserved there. The magnificent west window was paid for by public subscription and was unveiled by Queen Elizabeth in August 1987 to mark the 850th anniversary of the Cathedral.
That evening I gave the promised talk at the Baha’i Centre to a small audience. I was able to tell the story of Margaret Stevenson who became a believer in Auckland in June 1913. One of Rosemary’s friends asked a series of questions that will help me to investigate further avenues that may enlighten the early history of the Faith in New Zealand. Any help at all is very welcome.
One of the ongoing attractions of Orkney is the prehistory. There is evidence of human settlement there for over 5000 years. Last time I saw the remains of a seaside village called Skara Brae which were uncovered during a severe storm that washed away a hillside in 1850. The chambered tomb of Maeshow and the marker stone were also included on my itinerary. The stone circles known as the Ring of Brodgar and the Ring of Stenness are prominent landmarks but since my last visit on going excavations have uncovered further interesting information.
Near Stenness a prehistoric house of unusual design has been excavated. It is rectangular rather than round in shape and has two hearths rather than the more usual single fireplace. It is built over a village of 15 houses known as the Barnhouse Settlement. In 2003 an archaeologist who happened to be visiting this place noticed a newly ploughed field near the Ring of Brodgar. The farmer gave permission for a survey and several large buildings, some built over each other were found. This discovery has changed the understanding of prehistorians about the nature of life on Orkney in ancient times.
The Ness of Brodgar is the thin strip of land separating the Harray and Stenness lochs in Orkney’s West Mainland. Located at the Ness are the best known monuments including the Ring of Brodgar and the Ring of Stenness. Prior to the discovery of Barnhouse there was no evidence of Neolithic settlement on the Ness of Brodgar nor in the Stenness area. It was assumed that the importance of the Ness lay in the ritual nature of the surviving monuments. It is now clear that there was a massive complex of structures between the stone circles covering an area of 2.5 ha.
The two stone circles are now thought to have been constructed for different purposes. The one near Stenness appears to have been a place of commerce and social activity while there have been no artifacts found at the Ring of Brodgar. The purpose of this second ring has remained obscure. The proximity of the stone circles to the chambered tomb has raised the notion that the whole area may have had a ceremonial or religious purpose. It is now suggested that the Ring of Brodgar may have been a place where the bodies of the dead were exposed to the elements before the bones were placed in the tomb.
There are many mysteries still to be unfolded but it is clear that there is still a lot of work to be done. The farmer who ploughed the field lived in the adjacent house which has now been purchased by the university and is used as a base for the ongoing excavations that take place for a few months every summer. There is an enormous public interest in this work such that a temporary seating arrangement is set up each year so that interested people can see what is going on. I will be following developments keenly.
Next to the low lying Ness is the Loch of Stenness. This is the largest saline lagoon in the UK. Salinity varies within the loch and this is reflected in the nature of the communities present. There are seaweed communities near the entrance and tasselweed and pondweed near the connection with the Loch of Harray.
David took me to see part of the WWII defences. The now crumbling battery was sited to control entry into Scapa Flow. We could not enter the site but the brisk walk did me good. I watched the sea birds wheeling and calling to each other in the salty air above the tidal flow which appeared as a very strong ripple moving out of the harbour. I doubt that anyone could swim against it.
I attended the Feast of Light on 5 June with the small community. Orkney appears to suffer from the same lack of diversity as Thames. The National Assembly has decided that the Orkney Baha’is should retain their Baha’i centre and they continue to celebrate Feasts and Holy Days there. I expect that conditions will eventually change in both places but it will take new people to move there with their families bringing new ideas and lots of energy.
On 6 July I flew from Kirkwall to Aberdeen to Stavanger where I was met by Kjell and Aase Austvoll. It seems like ages since I have seen them ... I think the last time was in Auckland several years ago. It was a very happy reunion.
It was a three day public holiday weekend for the Norwegians. Kjell was free from his work responsibilities and we were able to relax at their lovely beach place that faces the setting sun in the Atlantic Ocean. We had so much to catch up on ... we talked for hours but we were also able to travel around a little to see the countryside. We drove into the high country along steep sided valleys. An ancient rock fall had blocked one valley. The rocks were huge and it was a reminder that the land is still being shaped by wind and weather. I think it would have been terrifying to be in that valley during the rock fall. It would have felt like the end of the world.
A little further along the road we were high enough to see the winter ice still melting in a tarn and snow drifts piled taller than me. It did not feel cold enough to see snow and it was not a continuous cover but rather the remains of the winter left in small hollows and beside the highway. We stopped at a place called The Eagles Nest for lunch and saw the most magnificent views of the water far below. There were seabirds flying around below our vantage point. The fjord had the usual steep sides associated with glaciation and the bluest sea. It was so different from my home in the Waikato. From the carpark I could see the steeply zig zagging road down the side of the valley. There was a lot of traffic due to the holiday weekend including numerous touring motorbikes.
We followed the road down to Lysefjord and had a picnic afternoon tea while waiting for the ferry. It was a warm sparkling day. There were sky divers jumping off the top of the cliff and floating down to the ground near our picnic spot. Later Kjell drove the car onto the vehicle deck of the ferry and we took up positions on the deck to admire the view as we steamed down towards the sea. The views and the rock formations were simply stupendous. Lysefjord is 42 km long and everywhere I looked there were waterfalls, old mountain farms, goats and even a power station. At one place we passed an enormous flat rock jutting out high over the water. It was known as pulpit rock. Another amazing sight was known as kjerag where a large rock had fallen down into a cleft in the wall of the fjord and become firmly wedged in place so that people could climb on to it. Definitely not for me.
The following day we visited a reconstruction of an Iron Age village. Several houses were discovered and it is immediately clear that the building style is different from those that I saw in Orkney. The Norwegian houses are longer and have spaces for animals to be kept indoors. There are low walls and turf roofs and interiors lined with timber. The houses would have been warm and snug but dark due to lack of windows. It was interesting to see how these ancient dwellings had been built to suit the local conditions.
We visited a former monastery at Utstein on Abbey Island where a royal palace once stood. The area has been inhabited since the Stone Age and many relics have been found from the Bronze and Iron Ages as well as from the Viking Era. There are many burial mounds concentrated in a relatively small area on the south east of the island. The site is in a strategic position overlooking the entrance to the fjords of Ryfylke and the passage southwards towards Stavanger. The ruler of the area would have controlled coastal shipping. The protected bay had exit routes in three directions. In addition the Ryfylke Islands had a mild climate an good soil so there would have been good harvests ... better than in other parts of Norway.
Harald Harfagre (Fairhair) established a royal residence at Utstein after the battle of Hafrsfjord in about 872AD. After his death successive kings lived in different places. It is not known when the royal residence became an abbey occupied by monks of an Augustinian order from Britain and Denmark. The remains of the original estate are now owned by the Garmann family who have striven to preserve the unique landscape and to improve the property.
We looked through the various rooms and admired family portraits and other works of art. It was a special place with such simplicity and tranquillity.
As evidence of early settlement we saw some drawings scratched into the rocks nearby. I do not know how old they are. There were some of the ancient cup and ring design and others that looked like serpents.
Later that night we watched the sun sinking into the ocean and talked of many things. It is so important to be able to stop the world occasionally and simply look at our surroundings. This is why lonely places and gardens are so important for the soul.
On my last day we took another ferry to Flor and Fjaere, a sanctuary of relaxation. The garden on an island began in 1965 when Aasmund and Else Marie Bryn purchased a farmstead, Mangela, on the northern tip of the island. They built a small cottage intending to use it for holidays and perhaps as a refuge in retirement. In 1987 Aasmund moved there permanently for health reasons and planted pine trees as a wind barrier. He designed a small garden as part of his rehabilitation. The idea of the garden grew and by 1995 Olav (Aasmund’s son) and his wife Siri opened the garden to the public. There is now a restaurant and gardens that change colour with the seasons. The third generation of the Bryn family is taking over the management of the property. It is popular with everyone and is suitable for meetings and seminars. Queen Sonja of Norway celebrated her 70th birthday there.
On the day of our visit there was a family event taking place. I am not sure if it was a wedding, birthday party or perhaps an anniversary celebration. Several young women in traditional costumes were walking on the lawn but the true wonder was the garden. There are a number of gardens with different plantings according to the conditions. There is a palm tree garden, a succulent garden as well as banks of flowers and a waterfall. I am not sure how many gardeners are working there but there must be a hidden army. The place was picture perfect and I was simply delighted.
It was hard to leave Norway. There is something about the mountains and the colour of the water that touches me deeply. I am sure that the pace of life in Norway must be as mad as everywhere else but it was a privilege to allow some time for contemplation.
It was my first visit to Sweden and an opportunity to fulfil another promise; this was one made to Margareta when we met on the Camino in 2009. I promised to visit her so that she could show me the things that are special about her homeland ... so different from what we were seeing in Spain. We have corresponded intermittently since our first meeting ... I was planning to visit the year I went to Nepal. My health crisis that year changed many plans.
The countryside of Sweden is quite different from that of Norway. In Norway I saw mountains and fjords while in Sweden the land in the south where I stayed with Margareta was gentler and more like the farmland that I know in New Zealand.
Margareta lives in Strangnas beside Lake Malaren. I took the train from Arlanda Airport and she met me with her daughter in law, Jessica, and two grand daughters. I was greeted with a welcome card drawn by Emma aged 8 who introduced her little sister Moa aged 4. This was an especially delightful moment. Strangnas is a small city placed by a strait on hills of which the most important are “Mill Hill” and “Cathedral Hill”. We walked around to see places where Margareta has lived in the past and it was clear that much of the town is quite modern although it has a long and important history. A disastrous fire in 1871 led to the reconstruction of much of the city.
Margareta has a comfortable apartment with a tile stove close to the cathedral. Despite its proximity we never managed to visit the historic cathedral as it was closed whenever we approached it. I admired the portraits of her ancestors as she told me about the history of her family. I was impressed that she knows so much about her forbears.
Lake Malaren is the third largest lake in Sweden. Many fortifications and castles have been built around it starting from the earliest permanent settlements around 5000BC. We visited Gripsholm Castle at Mariefred. We travelled there by bus and walked around the little town. The town takes its name which means “Peace of Mary” from the existence of a monastery in historical times.
The castle was built between 1537 and 1709 on the site of a fortress owned by the Grip family. The fortress was confiscated by King Gustav I in 1526 along with many other mansions and castles. It was rebuilt and has belonged to the Swedish Royal Family since the election of Gustav Vasa on 6 June 1523. It was used as a royal residence until 1713 and today houses the National Portrait Gallery. Near the entrance is the famous portrait of the current Swedish Royal family by John-Erik Franzen. The collection includes about 800 portraits of famous Swedes from the 16th century to the present day. The castle was used as a prison from 1713 to 1773 when it was renovated by King Gustav III and a theatre was added in one of the towers. The king himself liked to perform on this stage.
After two nights in Strangnas we took a train to Stockholm and went to stay with Margareta’s long time friend, Ingeborg. I had intended to stay in a hotel but there was no accommodation to be had. Fortunately for me, Ingeborg was most generous and hospitable. We based ourselves at her home while we visited only a few of the many attractions of Stockholm. Margareta was able to book some tickets for a concert at Drottningholm Theatre by a well known Swedish baritone, Loa Falkman. He had a lovely voice and the programme of Mozart, Mendelssohn and Schubert interspersed with orchestral interludes was most enjoyable and well received by a capacity audience.
Earlier in the day we visited the theatre to see the backstage area. It is a fully operational 18th century theatre with hand operated machinery for creating sound effects such as wind, rain and thunder. There were wooden backdrops and flaps that were similarly hand operated to great effect. In fact my fascination with all this paraphernalia almost deflected my attention from the music. It was a most pleasant evening.
Drottningholm has been the official home of the Royal Family since 1981. Construction began in 1662 after the first palace on this site was burned down. The present palace was commissioned by Queen Hedvig Eleonora in 1662. She was by all accounts an extremely powerful woman who served as Regent during the minority of her son who later became King Charles XI of Sweden. He referred to her even after his marriage to a Danish princess as “Her Majesty the Queen My Dear Lady Mother”.
We spent so much time visiting the theatre and the visitors’ centre that we did not have enough time to see the Chinese Pavilion or the newly restored Baroque Garden. We did get to see the changing of the guard. There was an outdoor brass band concert where the performers played on horseback. I was at the back of the crowd and could not get a photo of this astonishing feat.
Stockholm Cathedral is a treasure trove of history and artefacts. It was constructed and rebuilt over a long period. The oldest parts of the church date from the mid 13th century. The exterior was rebuilt in 1736-42 in an Italian Baroque style to complement the Royal Palace, which had also been rebuilt about that time. Beside the elaborate silver altar is a 3.7 m high seven branched candlestick made of bronze. It was probably made in Germany in the 15th century and has stood in the Cathedral for over 600 years. A wooden sculpture of St George and the Dragon standing on the other side of the altar, was commissioned by Sten Sture the Elder who put to flight the forces of King Christian of Denmark and rescued Stockholm from the Danish invaders. The sculpture was consecrated in 1489.
In the far corner of the Cathedral is a painting that depicts a light phenomenon that occurred over Stockholm on 20 April 1535. Six sparkling luminous rings of light (parahelia known as sun dogs or mock suns) were observed in the heavens. People thought that these foretold the imminent collapse of civilisation and crowds flocked to churches. The painting was dramatic and I assume that the original event was very unusual and significant.
Stockholm is endowed with over 80 museums catering for every kind of taste so there was no way I could visit even a fraction of them. I purchased a Stockholm Card that allows tourists free entry to lots of attractions as well as free use of public transport. I thought this was a very good deal as over three days I was able to save some money. We decided not to visit the Abba Museum. We went to the museum that houses the Vasa Ship. King Gustav Adolf commissioned this mighty ship intending it to play a major role in the Swedish navy but it sank on its maiden voyage in 1628. (The story bears a lot of resemblance to the “Mary Rose”.) The Vasa was salvaged after spending 333 years at the bottom of the sea and is now the world’s only preserved 17th century ship. The hull was covered with carved and painted images. There was a film about the ship and models of the arrangements below deck along with displays of articles that were used by the officers and crew.
We went to the Nobel Museum which was extremely interesting. I knew about the Nobel Prizes but not much about the great philanthropist, Alfred Nobel (1833-1896). He was a world citizen with a background in St Petersburg, Stockholm and Paris, an inventor who constantly searched for solutions to problems of various kinds. In his will he provided that part of his fortune would go each year to physics, chemistry, physiology or medicine, literature and peace. The Nobel Prize was from the start a world event.
The museum is located in a beautiful 18th century building but the interior is very modern. There is a cableway attached to the ceiling that moves posters with names, photos and citations for each Laureate and there are over 800 of them. There are short films about some of the Laureates as well as displays about their work. Some of the world’s most important ideas and discoveries are found in the work of the Laureates so the museum poses some thought provoking questions such as how can we best use our creativity and how can the environment foster the creative process.
The museum has a shop and a cafe and offers a wide range of lectures, seminars and debates about current issues. Research is on going so the museum is a knowledge bank.
Another place on our itinerary was Skansen ... an open air museum founded in 1891 where visitors can stroll through 5 centuries of Swedish history. There are over 150 dwellings and other buildings from all parts of Sweden that have been reassembled in a large park. There is a zoo and numerous restaurants I lunched on a wrap with smoked reindeer meat, salad and a dressing of sour cream and cloudberries! Simply delicious! Couples were folk dancing in traditional costumes. There were weddings going on and numerous artisans making everything from bread to blown glass, from pottery to traditional handcrafts. It was a marvellous day out.
Sadly it was time to depart so I said my farewells to Ingeborg and to Margareta and took the train to Arlanda Airport where I stayed overnight at Radisson Blu SkyCity Hotel conveniently located right in the airport between Terminals 4 and 5. I was impressed with the speed and efficiency of the train service to the airport and also the well organised check in procedures the next day.
I flew into Athens to meet Barbara who was doing some teaching work there. I took a taxi out to her hotel and was somewhat put off to find that the taxi driver had difficulty getting up close to the entrance. The building faced a main road and had to be approached by means of a narrow slip road running parallel to the highway. The taxi stopped on the main highway and I had to climb over a kerb and up the front steps to the hotel. The hotel itself was comfortable but not well located for tourists. It was in a commercial area right across the road from the 2004 Olympic Games venue.
When Barbara was free from her teaching duties we set off to walk through the Games venue to find the metro. This was not obvious the first time as we went straight past the ticket office. The stadium looked deserted. The pavements were broken and choked with weeds. The fountains were not playing and the pools were empty. Some of the structures appeared to be rusting and the overall impression was one of neglect and decay. It looked like a colossal waste of money as I gathered that the stadium is used only occasionally these days. Fortunately the railway was operating and we were able to travel around the city or perhaps I should say into the CBD and out again. Sometimes we took a taxi home at night after a long day of sightseeing.
We spent most of a day at the Acropolis museum until we were thrown out at closing time. The museum is a wonderful modern structure built to align with the ancient monument. On the ground floor there were heavy glass panels allowing visitors to see the foundations of ancient buildings. I spent all my time on the first floor where an endless parade of marble carvings claimed my attention. Barbara went up to the second floor and reported seeing decorations that had been moved from the Parthenon and installed at eye level in the new building. They were so much easier to see at that angle.
After closing time we wandered over the shoulder of the hill to look at other temples but ended up sitting down to have a meal at a place where there was a wonderful view back towards the Acropolis A fine spray of water from the ceiling kept us tolerably cool.
The following day we went to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier where I was disappointed to find the guards were wearing khaki military uniforms rather than the more traditional costumes that I had seen on postcards. It turned out that the white pantaloons are kept for Sundays so that is another reason for me to return to Athens.
We attempted to find our way up to the top of Lycabettus in the centre of the city. We walked around but eventually engaged a taxi to take us to the foot of the cable car. He drove us to the top and we wended our way to the restaurant for lunch then to the tiny chapel of St George from where we had splendid views over Athens. Lycabettus stands 277m and is the highest point in Athens. There is a large open air theatre near the top where local and many international artists have performed. Despite looking hard we could not identify the 2004 Olympic stadium or our hotel from that vantage point.
We took a taxi back to the hotel and picked up our suitcases. That afternoon we boarded the ferry for Rhodes travelling in luxury in a two berth cabin facing forward. We watched from the deck as a large number of truck and trailer units entered the vehicle deck. The tractor units were uncoupled from the loads so that on board there was the minimum space requirement. It was all very well organised and I noted that despite the huge number of trucks there were still many private vehicles loaded. After admiring the night view of the Santorini cliffs we went to bed. The facilities were very comfortable but somewhat noisy due to the number of excited children running around the corridors.
The map seemed to indicate that my hotel was close to the ferry terminal so we set off walking dragging our bags behind us. The walk was a bit longer than expected but quite easy despite the suitcases. We watched some of the vehicles being removed from the ferry ... tractor units towed out the laden trailers and the private vehicles sped past us as we trudged along. Like any port the place was bustling with pedestrians and vehicles of all kinds. There was not much to see until we reached the shopping area under the walls of the castle of the Knights of St John. Ignoring the restaurants and postcard sellers we continued past the stop for the little tourist train and the courthouse until eventually we found the correct corner and arrived at the Plaza Hotel a block inland from the sea.
The hotel was very conveniently located on a corner with a garden and swimming pool behind the restaurant and bar that took up much of the ground floor. Barbara took a taxi to Callithea where she was attending a conference and I settled down to wait for Olwyn who arrived later that night. I picked up some pamphlets about the attractions in Rhodes and sat by the pool with a book when the temperature rose too high.
The Greek archipelago serves as a bridge linking East and West. It is a meeting point for three different continents ... Africa, Asia and Europe. People have been attracted to this area since ancient times. Rhodes is the fourth largest of the Greek Islands and lies 37 km from the coast of Turkey. It has a Mediterranean climate with mild winters and plenty of sunshine and humidity so the vegetation is lush. Rhodes is known for citrus fruits, wine and olive oil.
One of the legends about the island is that the god Helios so loved Rhodes that he persuaded Zeus to place it under his protection and this is the reason for the abundant sunshine and natural beauty of this locality.
Rhodes has been inhabited since before 3000 BC and some of the place names such as Cameiros, Lindos and Ialysos indicate the presence of pre Greek tribes. The Rhodians became prosperous through trade with their neighbours and when it was under Dorian rule the island was divided into three independent city states --- Cameiros in the west, Lindia in the south and Ialysos in the north. These three cities decided to establish a single city in common and the city of Rhodes was established in 408BC. The Rhodians received successive waves of settlers over the centuries. They erected a huge statue dedicated to their patron Helios --- the famous “Colossus of Rhodes”. Today we have no idea of what the statue was like as it was completely destroyed in a disastrous earthquake in 227BC and never rebuilt.
During the Roman era the city was destroyed when it did not provide military aid to Rome against enemies in Asia Minor. Rhodes sank into obscurity until the period of the Crusades. The city walls were repaired by the Byzantines in 1275 and the island became the property of the Genoese who sold it to the Order of the Knights of St John of Jerusalem. The history of the Knights of St John is long and convoluted so I am not going into detail here. Suffice it to say that they ruled Rhodes from 1307 to 1522 leaving great castles and fortifications. The city of Rhodes was captured by the Turks in 1522. The occupation lasted 390 years until the Italians took the island in 1912. After the defeat of the Axis powers Rhodes and the other islands of the Dodecanese were incorporated into Greece in 1948.
Over breakfast the next day Olwyn and I planned our stay. It was hot during the day so we did not feel like doing much except availing ourselves of the swimming pool at the hotel. We walked around the town and visited the walled city set up by the Knights of St John. The complex is very large and we would probably have understood it better if we had paid a guide. We visited the House of the Master of the Order and looked around the extensive walls and fortifications. In the heat of the day we stopped to listen to a traditional piper standing under the shade of a tree.
We took a ride on the little train that took the tourists around the places of interest and up to the hills behind the town. The ruin of the Temple of Apollo on the highest hill has been partially restored. It cannot be seen from the old town where we were staying. There were lovely views around the town and since were taking the ride late in the day we could see the sunset.
On 20th June Olwyn and I hired a private guide who took us sight seeing for the day. We began by finding a suitable place to buy a new battery for my watch. We had discussed where we wanted to go but we quickly accepted that our chosen guide was knowledgeable and a good communicator in English so we accepted his recommendations. There was so much to see that I would have been happy to spend a week exploring. With the expertise of Kostas we followed the west coast road past the archaeological site of Ialysos. We visited a ceramic factory to see how the colourful pottery items are made. We visited an ancient monastery with its richly decorated icons.
We stopped at the top of the Valley of Butterflies and walked down to meet our guide through a green and shady valley lined with plane trees. The path was well marked. There were numerous oleanders in bloom and we saw some of the early butterflies. Since we were a little early in the season we had to look around carefully to see them. When they are flying their orange/red wings are spectacular but when they come to rest against a tree trunk they are almost invisible. It was deliciously cool under the trees beside a gurgling brook. We eventually reached the end of the track where we passed a small lake as we walked over the bridge to the carpark where our guide was waiting.
We passed Mount Profitis Ilias and we were allowed over an hour to climb up to the hilltop at Lindos. The modern village of Lindos with its white roofs, cobblestone courtyards and narrow alleys is wrapped around the north side of the acropolis. The only way up the hill was on foot or by donkey ... we chose to walk. It was hot and tiring but the view from the top was magnificent. On one side was the bay of Lindos filled with scores of fishing boats and on the other the calm waters of the cove of Ayios Pavlos where tradition says that St Paul anchored in 57AD.
The town seems to exist to serve the flocks of tourists that converge there dividing their attention between the beautiful beach and the archaeological site. The imposing rock that the original inhabitants chose for their acropolis has a flat area of a roughly triangular shape. On this rock lie the ruins of the temple of Athena.
The walls that surround the acropolis today were built by the Knights of St John and the approach to the top is along a flight of stairs built at the same time. There are ruined buildings from different periods but for me the most impressive were the remains of the Hellenistic Temple of Athena constructed in about 200BC measuring 88m x 9m with a height of 6m. Originally there were 42 columns of which 20 are standing today. It must have been a marvellous sight in its day.
When Barbara was finished with her conference we hired a car and visited the other side of Rhodes. We passed the lonely castle of Monolithos standing on a clifftop looking for long forgotten pirates. About 32 Km from the city of Rhodes is ancient Camieros, the smallest city of ancient Rhodes. It had connections with Minoan Crete and its economy was based on farming and stock breeding. Camieros declined after the establishment of the city of Rhodes and the remains visible today indicate that it was well furnished with public buildings and an amphitheatre as well as a temple dedicated to Apollo where the remains of a fountain have survived. There was a paved central road with public baths at the northern end. In addition the remains of a large cistern capable of holding 600 cubic metres of water have been found. Rainwater from the temple roof flowed into the cistern and subsequently supplied the town through special channels. This sophisticated system fell into disuse when a large colonnade of about 200m length was built at the northern end of the Sanctuary of Athena. Excavation work is continuing in this area.
We had a snack at a cafe on Mount Profitis Ilias. We sat outside opposite an Italian built hotel. We were grateful for shade and quiet.
We stopped to view the castle of Kastelo perched on a hill south of the little fishing village of Skala Kamirou. We turned back to our hotel calling in at a small village where the parents of one of Barbara’s colleagues ran a family restaurant. We were treated like royalty and feasted on all sorts of delicacies. It was hard to leave.
On our last morning our guide picked us up and took us to the ferry terminal we had to be early because we were travelling to another country and had to complete all the formalities. We had a long wait while the ferry was loaded so we had time to admire the view back towards Rhodes. We also watched with great interest as the harbourmaster engaged the services of a tugboat that was guiding a cruise ship into the harbour. A yacht was moored in the middle of the shipping lane and had to be moved out of the way to facilitate the movement of other waterborne traffic. The tug hooked onto the anchor line of the yacht, pulled up the line and towed the sailboat out of the way. It was done smoothly and quickly and I almost did not notice what was going on.
Eventually we were underway on the King Sauron bound for Marmaris. Wearing our sunhats we enjoyed a smooth crossing and alighted in Asia Minor. Our first experience of officialdom was that I was directed into one queue and Barbara and Olwyn were sent somewhere else for passport control. I was travelling on a New Zealand passport and so was Barbara. She was eventually redirected to the same queue as me. We passed into Turkey without any fuss or visa requirements but Olwyn on a UK passport was required to pay a fee. We all ended up together outside looking for transport to Hotel Pamukkale where we were to stay the night. A taxi driver presented himself and after some haggling we got into his car and he drove us to our hotel.
Pamukkale is inland and we drove along well marked highways with modern signage and safety features. In fact everywhere we went in Turkey the roads were excellent. Our driver had almost no English but he understood we wanted to see everything so he diverted from the main road into a village where he showed us some ancient tombs hewn out of a rock wall. When a body was placed in the tomb the entrance would be sealed by rolling a large rock into position. I understood that these tombs were similar to the one mentioned in the Bible as the last resting place of Jesus Christ.
We arrived late in the afternoon at our hotel which was strategically placed at the foot of the famous travertine terraces. The tectonic movements that took place in the fault depression of the Menderes river basin produced a number of hot springs. It is the water from one of these springs with its heavy load of minerals especially chalk, that has created the natural wonder now known as Pamukkale Cotton Fortress. Over thousands of years the spring water has built up a series of pools and terraces resembling a frozen waterfall. The white stalactites and splashing water must have made a place of special significance and the area was regarded as sacred by the ancients. This beautiful natural phenomenon shines brilliant white in the day time sunlight and turns pink in the sunset. It is floodlit at night and I did not get a chance to see it by moonlight.
The terraces have built up gradually to over 100m in height but now that they have been discovered as a major tourist attraction it will be necessary for the local authorities (or perhaps central government given the importance of the site) to take firm steps to protect the springs that are the source of this amazing sight. As the spring waters are diverted away the terraces are not washed with minerals every day and they are turning brown. How tragic if this gorgeous vista were to be destroyed by the visitors who have come to appreciate it.
We took a taxi to the top of the terraces and walked through the ruined city of Hierapolis founded in the 2nd century BC. Its name means “Sacred City” and this appeared to be based on the unusual number of temples in that locality. It was inhabited by many different peoples from all over the known world. It has a long history ... the ruins visible today date from the Roman period. We crossed a vast necropolis with some tombs dating from pre Hellenistic and Roman periods. I guess that people have been bathing in the warm water at Pamukkale for centuries hoping to find a cure for their ailments. When the cure did not take place they were buried according to their traditional practices. It is these practices that have allowed modern archaeologists to learn about ancient cultures. Although many of the graves were pillaged during Byzantine times, some artefacts were found including oil lamps and tear glasses. It is a miracle that any such fragile items have survived.
There was so much to see in Hierapolis. I could happily have spent a couple of days there with a guide. There was a Monumental Way lined with tombs. The baths constructed during the Roman period were subsequently used as a church. There is a Roman gate and a Byzantine one as well as city wall which has all but disappeared. Presumably Pax Romana meant that elaborate defences were not necessary.
According to tradition St Philip was martyred here in 80AD. His son carried on the work of teaching the local people about Christianity and one of the first Christian communities was founded here.
The museum was closed so we could not visit. I was rather disappointed about missing the displays. The sun was setting after we had a swim. The only way down to our hotel was to walk barefoot through the warm water along the terraces to the village. It is a long time since I have walked barefoot after dark so I picked my way down very slowly. Once we reached the town Barbara and I felt thirsty so we went to find a drink while Olwyn returned to the hotel. As we were heading back to our accommodation we discovered a shop selling beautiful glass mosaic light shades. After a lot of discussion and looking at different shapes and sizes Barbara bought several of these and arranged to have them shipped back to Glasgow.
After a good breakfast in a sunny room with a view over part of the terraces we were taken to a local railway station for the trip to Selcuk. Language difficulties meant that we had expected to go to Denizli and we were somewhat surprised to find ourselves at what appeared to be a deserted platform. It was a pretty little place but very quiet. Soon the train arrived and we clambered aboard dragging our cases behind us. The trip to Selcuk took about three hours.
The station where we alighted was bigger and before heading to our hotel we decided to book ourselves seats on the train that we were taking later in the week to Bandirma. Olwyn waited on the platform while Barbara spoke to a station clerk. Eventually he invited her into the office rather than speaking through a little port hole. I followed her as it was so hot outside. He was using a computer with a programme that allowed him to write in Turkish and the words that appeared on the screen were in English. Although this was rather cumbersome we were delighted to be able to communicate with each other. There were smiles all around. Another clerk brought me a cup of tea in a clear glass cup without a handle so that the colour of the tea could be appreciated. The booking clerk suggested that the three of us should sit around a table on the train. He copied our strange names from our passports and the tickets were issued. We were very happy with this result.
For me this experience where the clerk went the extra mile to ensure that we all understood each other was typical of the people that I met in Turkey. They were all kind and hospitable. I felt very comfortable there.
We emerged on to the street from the ticket office unsure how to find the Ephesus Suites Hotel. We took a taxi but the place was actually very close to the station and to the edge of town with fields on one side of the street. The hotel had a walled courtyard in the front and since we had arrived at an unusual time of day we were met by the cleaner. She offered refreshments and called the manager who was most charming. Cunate showed us to our rooms and explained the local attractions and restaurants. It was a small comfortable hotel conveniently located to the Isa Bey mosque and to the ruined Basilica of St John where the tomb of St John is located.
The well established presence of St John in Ephesus has led some scholars to believe that the Virgin Mary also lived there. Others believe that she lived in Jerusalem. Based on the visions of Sister Anne Catherine Emmerich a particular house has been identified as the home of the Virgin Mary and it has become a place of pilgrimage visited by three recent Popes.
Ephesus was an important city from ancient times and was one of the seven cities with strong Christian Churches mentioned in the Book of Revelation. St Paul worked in that community and wrote to the Christians in Ephesus from his prison in Rome.
On Wednesday 25 June Barbara and I went on a tour to the ancient city of Ephesus in a mini bus along with a small group of other English speakers. Olwyn stayed at the hotel as she was feeling the effects of too much sun. We stopped at another ceramics factory and a place where women were weaving carpets. The work was beautiful but we resisted buying due to our limited carrying space.
Most of the day was spent at the archaeological site of Ephesus. It covered an extensive area and we admired temples and gates, terrace houses and decorations as well as the remains of a magnificent library built by Celsus in honour of his father. A temple in honour of Domitian was the first to have a statue representing a living human being. Previously human figures represented gods. Many of the artefacts have been placed in the museum which we did not visit. We were able to get a sense of the size of the city from the amphitheatre capable of setting 25,000 people. Usually an amphitheatre would cater for about 10% of the population so there must have been 250,000 inhabitants at one stage. I was interested to see a carving of the winged goddess, Nike, representing the idea of victory. The folds of her robe form the tick that the present day manufacturer of sports clothing has taken for its logo.
We visited the House of the Virgin Mary which is treated with much respect. The outer courtyard was thronged with people selling food and souvenirs but inside it was cool and quiet. It must have been quite different back in the days when St John moved to Ephesus.
I cannot speak too highly of our happy experience with the Ephesus Suites Hotel. The breakfasts were excellent and the cool courtyard was a great asset. The hotel was in a quiet locality with restaurants close at hand. We followed the advice of Cunate and tried out two of them where we had good food and good service. Our host gave some timely advice that we would need to change trains at Izmir. Despite the fact that we had pre booked our tickets it was not clear that this would be required.
It was a full day trip to Bandirma. We were very glad of our pre booked seats as the train was more or less crowded for much of the journey. Changing trains was not difficult and as we waited on the right platform I had the presence of mind to buy us some sandwiches from a street vendor and this turned out to be our only sustenance for the day. Our hotel at Bandirma was conveniently located right across the road from that station and a very short walk to the ferry terminal from where we set off the next morning for Istanbul.
Istanbul is the largest city in Turkey with a population of 14.1 million people. Although it is not the capital of modern Turkey it is the historical cultural and economic heart of the country. It is one of the largest urban agglomerations in the world, the second largest in the Middle East and the 5th largest in the world in terms of population within the city limits. It straddles the Bosphorus --- one of the world’s busiest waterways --- in north western Turkey between the Sea of Marmara and the Black Sea. Its commercial and historical heart is in Europe while a third of its population lives in Asia.
The city was founded about 660BC as Byzantium and became one of the most significant cities in history. It served as capital of four empires over a period of 16 centuries after its re establishment as Constantinople in 330 AD
• Roman Empire 330 – 395 AD
• Byzantine Empire 395 – 1204 and 1261 - 1453
• Latin Empire 1204 – 1261
• Ottoman Empire 1453 – 1922
It was instrumental in the spread of Christianity during the Roman and Byzantine periods until it was conquered by the Ottomans in 1453. It became a stronghold of Islam and the seat of the last Caliphate. Today the city is home to migrants from all over Anatolia and it hosts millions of visitors from all over the world every year. In 2010, Istanbul was named European Capital of Culture.
Part of the old city has been named by UNESCO as a World Heritage Site and it was to this area known as Sultanahmet that we turned our attention. We stayed at a conveniently located hotel called Euro Star and as usual we walked around where ever possible. There was a tram stop close to the hotel so we were able to take longer journeys when necessary. We each purchased a tourist card to allow discounted entry to many of the important tourist attractions.
Following the crowds we visited the Topkapi Palace Museum where we saw gorgeous jewellery as well as ceremonial items. The museum also contains important holy relics for Muslims such as the sword and cloak of Mohammed. The Palace was the principal residence of the Ottoman sultans for over 400 years and even today it is overwhelming in its splendour.
We went to the Blue Mosque known in Istanbul as the Sultan Ahmet Mosque. It has been called the Blue Mosque because of the blue tiles that decorate the interior. As in any mosque we had to remove our shoes but we were also required to cover our heads and there were attendants handing out shawls for this purpose. The interior floors were covered with carpet. Lights hung from a large circular frame and the view of the dome was awe inspiring.
The mosque was built during the period 1606 – 1616 during the reign of Ahmed I and it still used for worship. The tomb of the founder is located inside the building and there is also a madrasah and hospice. It receives many visitors every year including Pope Benedict on 30 November 2006. It was only the second papal visit in history to a Muslim place of worship. The Pope “thanked Divine Providence for this” and said “May all believers identify themselves with the one true God and bear witness to true brotherhood.” The pontiff thanked the Turkish people for the “cordiality and sympathy” that they showed him throughout his visit and remarked that Turkey “will be a bridge of friendship and collaboration between East and West”.
The mosque has one main dome, six minarets and eight secondary domes. When it was built the architect aimed for overwhelming size, majesty and splendour following principles taught by Mimar Sinan who was himself the architect of over 300 major projects. Sinan is considered the finest architect of the classical period.
We also visited Hagia Sophia located close to the Blue Mosque. This extravagant structure was formerly a Greek Orthodox Basilica from 437 – 1453. It was the seat of the Patriarchate of Constantinople except for a brief period when it was used as a Roman Catholic cathedral during the Latin Empire. The building was used as a mosque from 1453 to 1931 when it was secularised and it is now a museum of enormous size and splendour. Renovation work was under way during our visit but this did not reduce its impact.
We spent an afternoon at one of the many Turkish bath houses in the city. This experience must have been similar to the bathing culture that was part of daily life for ancient Rome. Purity and cleanliness are highly valued by Moslems so a bath house is associated with many mosques. We chose to use a 300 year old Turkish Bath in a quiet side street. We were keen to find the sort of place that would be used by the local people rather than tourists and this place fitted the bill. Despite some of the pictures supplied with the publicity material there was NO mixed bathing and the attendants were all mature women. We each had a private dressing room where we left our clothes and from where we stepped out onto a marble floor wearing non skid slippers. An attendant led me by the hand to relax in a steam room for about 15 minutes after which I lay on a heated marble slab while she scrubbed me from head to toe (including the tickly places) with a rough mitten. I was soaped and sluiced and massaged until I felt as though I had been reborn in heaven. It was a marvellous experience and I will be keen to try it again some time.
We tried out some of the local restaurants including a place with a comprehensive dessert menu. We spent an afternoon in the Grand Bazaar where I bought a small candle holder to go on my dining table. Barbara bought saffron. Near the Grand Bazaar we found a restaurant with a roof garden where we had a leisurely meal. The host was most generous and kind. We were served with all sorts of delicacies and he even sang for us.
We discovered by chance that on the evening after the first day of Ramadan the local people picnicked in large numbers in front of the Blue Mosque. A cannon was fired to mark the moment at which people could break their fast. Tables and chairs were set up and whole families came together in a celebratory atmosphere. A seasonal greeting was displayed in lights on a net spread between the minarets in front of the Blue Mosque. Musicians provided entertainment. It was delightful to be in such a large crowd of good humoured people.
Since I was planning to visit Istanbul in 2014, almost a century after the Gallipoli campaign, I decided to make the effort to visit the World War I battle sites at the Dardanelles. I booked a tour using the services of a New Zealand travel agent and everything worked out extremely well. I was picked up at my hotel by a local guide with a mini bus and some other tourists. There was a lot of happy chatter on the trip. We drove to the relevant sites and the company became quiet as the magnitude of the disaster became clear. First we stopped at a place the Allied soldiers referred to as Brighton Beach where the land was flat and the gently sloping beach provided an easy landing place. Anzac Cove was quite different. Here the land was steep and the defenders were entrenched along the top of the cliff giving them a huge advantage. One of the hills towering over this spot was called the Sphinx because of its unusual shape. The story of the months of battle is well known and I will not attempt to summarize the action.
We stopped at the landing place at Anzac Cove where the commemoration services will take place in April 2015. We saw the cemeteries at Lone Pine (where a third generation of pine tree is now growing) and Johnson’s Jolly (where 10 headstones mark the place where 300 men fell) as well as the memorial at Chunuk Bair (where a statue of Ataturk watches over the abandoned trenches). We visited a Turkish cemetery and saw the statues created in memory of different heroes. There was a story about a Turkish soldier who carried heavy shells on his back after the break down of the mechanism that usually delivered them to the firing position. Another story was told of a Turkish soldier who picked up a wounded Australian and carried him to the Australian lines under a flag of truce. There are numerous other tales of heroism and pathos and I was profoundly moved to see this place where so many young Kiwis thought they would have an adventure. More than 2700 Kiwis fell there and they are buried alongside about 8500 of their Australian counterparts. Turkish losses were even greater.
The presence of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk was felt everywhere. His statue at Chunuk Bair, his words carved on a memorial at Anzac Cove, his portrait in cafes and the graves of many soldiers all testify to the determined resistance put up by the Turks under his leadership. Clearly he was a great statesman and this is nowhere more evident that in a speech made by him after the war about the Gallipoli campaign:
Those heroes that shed their blood and lost their lives; you are now lying in the soil of a friendly country. Therefore rest in peace. There is no difference between the Johnnies and the Mehmets to us where they lie side by side, here in this country of ours. You, the mothers, who sent their sons from far away countries, wipe away your tears. Your sons are now lying in our bosom and are at peace. After having lost their lives on this land, they have become our sons as well.
Most of the people in my party went back to Istanbul but I went on a ferry from Eceabat to Canakkale and stayed the night at Anzac Hotel. I walked along the waterfront to a restaurant with a terrace looking out to sea. I watched the sunset behind the big screen showing an exciting World Cup football game. Amazing how football speaks all languages and seems to be understood everywhere. So why can we not get along with each other for the rest of the time.
The following morning a guide met me and we walked around the centre of the town to see a wooden horse that was originally made as part of the props for the Hollywood version of the movie “Troy” which I never got around to seeing. The horse appeared to be constructed from drift wood or at least irregularly shaped pieces of timber. It was quite realistic as a horse but I wonder if it would have done the job that the legend tells us.
From there we went to the harbour to visit a model of a WWI mine layer called “Nusret” (the help of God). This ship laid 26 mines in an unexpected position just before the ill-fated invasion that sank HMS Irresistible and HMS Ocean and the French battleship Bouvet and left the British battleship HMS Inflexible badly damaged. The battle on 18 March 1915 is now regarded as a nation making day because of the significant Turkish victory.
We joined a mini bus full of other tourists and drove to the archaeological site of Troy. This ancient city was occupied for an extended period and archaeologists have identified nine different layers of settlement. The first excavations were carried out in 1865 by an English archaeologist, Frank Calvert. A chance meeting with Heinrich Schliemann in Canakkale stimulated more excavation work. Unfortunately Schliemann did not use good techniques and some of the site was destroyed. He found a hoard of jewellery and claimed that these items had belonged to Helen of Troy although the evidence appears not to support this position. There is a great deal more to be uncovered and it is not even clear who occupied the site over the centuries. There may have been a Hittite city there. A Roman settlement on the same site was called Illium. Although scholars do not agree on the date of the Homeric story of Troy, modern archaeologists have identified that city as Troy VII.
There was another even less convincing model of someone’s idea of the Trojan Horse at the entrance to the archaeological site. It was hot and dusty on the site but I was impressed by the walls that have been excavated and the interpretation of the structures by our guide. She was very fluent in English but I am sure I would need years of study to learn all about the site.
Barbara and Olwyn left to return to UK on 29 June but I stayed on in Istanbul for a few days. I visited the House of Baha’u’llah in an obscure part of the city. The original house was damaged in a fire and has been rebuilt. The caretaker who welcomed me opened a glass case containing a coat worn by Abdu’l-Baha and left me to pray and meditate in a simply furnished quiet room facing the street.
I walked from that house back to the Grand Bazaar passing an elaborate sculpture representing the Byzantine Empire and avoiding the traffic as I crossed a road that was also spanned by an aqueduct. I lunched in the same restaurant where we enjoyed the singing of the waiter.
Close to my hotel was the Sirecki Train Station where in a large exhibition room a Sema Ceremony is held several times a week. The ceremony is known for its whirling dances and dervishes, featuring a complex musical repertoire called ayin. The Sema ceremony represents the mystical journey of the soul through mind and love to perfection. It is part of the cultural wealth of Turkey built up over 800 years. In 2005, the Mevlevi Sema Ceremony was proclaimed by UNESCO as one of the Masterpieces of the Oral and Intangible Heritage of Humanity. There are seven parts to the ceremony beginning with a whirling dance and continuing with songs, musical interludes (performed by 6 men on traditional instruments) greetings of the participants to each other, readings from scripture and prayer. It was very moving and quite unlike anything I had seen before.
I took a tram across the bridge to see the view from the top of the Galata Tower, one of the oldest towers in Istanbul. It was originally a wooden lighthouse constructed in 528. It was rebuilt by the Genoese in 1348 using stone masonry. It was captured by the Turks at the conquest of Istanbul in 1453. It stands 66.9m high from ground level and is 140M above the sea. Its diameter is 8.95 m and the walls are 3.75 m thick. A lift whisked me up to the top floor from where I was able to carefully walk around the outside balcony. The view was marvellous in all directions. I could see Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque as well as the Suleiman Mosque ( the most famous project undertaken by Sinan). I contemplated the view of the Bosphorus over a soft drink at the restaurant on the top floor.
I spent a lot of time at the Istanbul Archaeological Museum where there were exhibits from Troy and other places. There was so much to see that it was overwhelming and I cannot remember any details even though I looked at many display cases. I needed a lot more explanatory material in English in order to make sense of what I was seeing.
It was my first visit to Turkey and I found the people to be quite charming and very hospitable. I wanted to find reading material in English about this lovely country so I stopped in at a bookshop across the road from Hagia Sophia. The elegant and brightly lit shop offered a smorgasbord of books about Turkey mostly in English but also in French, Spanish and German. My eye fell on a best selling novel called “The Long White Cloud – Gallipoli” by Buket Uzuner. The writer was born in Ankara and trained as a biologist and environmental scientist. She is an award winning novelist whose books have been translated into seven different languages. In this book she deals with the age old East-West conflict that manifested itself in the Gallipoli campaign in 1915. She manages to turn the meaninglessness of war and its miracle of connecting people beyond enmity into an engaging tale that held my attention to the end.
I went to Edirne to visit the House where Baha’u’llah lived with His family during his exile in Adrianople. I travelled by bus on excellent highways through farmland where crops of rice, wheat and barley were being raised. The hay making season was underway. There were fields of sunflowers and windmills on gently rolling land. It reminded me of the Waikato ... there were sheep and cows ... the land looked green and beautiful. The trip was about three hours including a short stop along the way where we could buy something to eat.
At the Edirne bus station I took a taxi to the Tasodalar Hotel where I had booked a room. In 1362 when Edirne was conquered by the Ottomans a palace was built in the town on the site now occupied by the Selimiye Mosque. Around the palace were several ancilliary buildings including the Tasodalar. When a new Palace was built the Tasodalar remained and was used as a residence until it was finally compulsorily acquired by the National Foundation in 1965. The Tasodalar was restored and leased for use as a small hotel. It stands next to the Selimiye Mosque which is regarded as the masterpiece of the architect Mimar Sinan. The hotel is very comfortable and has been furnished in the Ottoman style.
According to historical sources, Edirne was thought to be the birthplace of Thracian civilisation. In the second century AD the city was known as Hadrianopolis. It suffered raids from various invaders until it was finally made a part of the Ottoman Empire. At that stage its name was changed to Edirne. Today it is a border town and may be compared to an open air museum because of the many beautiful buildings and the Ali Pasha market. Because of its proximity to Bulgaria there is a strong Orthodox presence.
Baha’u’llah and His family arrived in Adrianople on 12 December 1863. They stayed three nights in a caravanserai then moved to a house in the Muradiyeh section to the northeast of the city. They spent a week in an unheated summer house that was not adequate for their needs. They moved again to more suitable accommodation where they stayed for about 6 months. During this period Mirza Yahya who had been living in the country disguised as a dervish returned to live with the Holy Family. He immediately resumed his agitations and caused disturbances amongst the believers who had accompanied the Holy Family into exile.
The Holy Family moved again to live at the House of Amrullah where they stayed for 21 months. There was an attempt made by Mirza Yahya to poison Baha’u’llah so the immediate family moved to another property owned by Reza Big in an attempt to distance themselves from Yahya. After some time they returned to the larger house of Amrullah then transferred to the Izzat Aga house where there was a garden.
The Holy Family was resident in Adrianople for 4 years and 8 months and they departed for Akka on 12 August 1868. The House of Amrullah has been demolished and the land is now a carpark near the Selimiye Mosque. The caravanserai has been replaced by a modern office building. Similarly the Izzat Aga house occupied by Baha’u’llah has been demolished but the land is now owned by the National Assembly of Turkey. It is planned to build a visitors’ centre there.
I was able to find the only house that is still standing. It was located close to the Selimiye Mosque but on the other side from my hotel. I was able to sit in the garden of the Izzat Aga house as well as visiting the place where the family lived for a time. It was a very tranquil and uplifting experience.
During my visit to Edirne I was able to see the Bulgarian Church located about 30 minutes walk from the Selimiye Mosque. I spent half a day in the museum that was close to my hotel and also visited the Bazaar. I explored the mosque itself and saw the historic City Hall and although there were other places to see I decided not to rush around in the hope that I will be able to return one day.
Liz and Derek met me at Sacramento Airport and we drove to their home in Grass Valley. As soon as we went outside I could smell the smoke from the bush fires in the area. There are huge areas being destroyed by fires and teams of fire fighters are working day and night to control them. Fortunately I was not very close to any danger spots but there were constant reminders of the bravery of the many who are working to protect the community.
Liz and Derek live in a semi rural area near the town of Grass Valley. I remember visiting them once before but it was a long time ago and I was there for such a short time that I did not get much idea of the area. Their home is set back from the road and is surrounded by trees recently thinned by Derek. Behind their home runs a canal originally constructed to assist with hydro mining and more recently it has supplied the homes in the area. Today people use wells and the canal water is used for agriculture. We walked along the canal making a round trip of about 4 km to the road and back to the house. It was delightfully cool and shady even though I was aware of smoke in the air.
Liz and I visited the Empire Mine State Historic Park. There are 856 acres of parkland at elevations of 2500 to 2900 feet preserving 367 miles of deep mine shafts. The area was populated by Native Americans who were pushed out from their ancestral lands by the gold rush in 1848. In 1850 gold bearing quartz was found in Grass Valley.
Traditional methods of winning precious metal such as panning the river gravel were ineffective so new ways had to be devised. In Grass Valley miners were lowered into holes in the ground where they chipped away at the rock or blasted to get at the ore. Broken rocks were taken to the stamp mill for crushing and further extraction using mercury. In 1905 the Empire Mine began to use cyanide to dissolve the gold while it was still embedded in the quartz. This method was also used in the Thames goldfields and it still in use around the world. Cornishmen brought their knowledge and skill to California and later to NZ.
In 1869 William B Bourne acquired a controlling interest in the mine and his son took over the management in 1879 after the sudden death of the father. A cousin, George W Starr was also involved in the management of the mine and their combined skills meant that the high production preserved the miners from the worst effects of the Great Depression. The mine closed during WWII when many of the miners enlisted. Although it was reopened after the end of the war gold was still at the 1934 price - $US34 per troy ounce. When the mine was finally closed in 1956 it had yielded nearly 6 million troy ounces of gold. Bonanza!!
Although the park has many walking tracks, Liz and I visited the luxurious home of the Bourne family now called Empire Cottage and another building used as a club house. The grounds were beautiful and the guides were knowledgeable. We met a fire fighting team from another county also enjoying the park along with families and visitors from many other places.
Over the next few days we visited the town of Grass Valley as well as Nevada City which is the seat of Nevada Country in California. The town was founded in 1848 at the time of the Gold Rush and boasts some fine old buildings including a theatre which is the oldest original use theatre in California. The population today is just over 3000 people. We also visited Downieville, another gold rush town and one time rival for the honour of being the state capital of California. Eventually that honour was given to Sacramento in 1853. Downieville lying at the confluence of the Downie and Yuba Rivers, was named after Major William Downie, a Scot and early gold prospector and first Mayor of the town. It is a very small place today but the icecreams are good.
On 10 August I took the Amtrack from Colfax to Glenwood Springs and Denver for the next stage of my adventure.
It is over a hundred years since Abdu’l- Baha broke His westward journey at Glenwood Springs. I stopped there hoping to find some traces of that historic visit. This little town is blessed with hot springs, caves, two rivers and a canyon as well as a train stop. There is even a cable car taking visitors up the hillside to a funpark and restaurants with lovely views of the surrounding countryside so even today it is a favoured holiday resort.
For such a little place it has quite a history. It was established in 1883 with a camp of tents saloons and brothels and it rejoiced in the name of “Defiance”. Although that name is still sometimes used for sport teams the official name became Glenwood Springs shortly after it was founded by Isaac Cooper and his wife Sarah. The town has attracted a number of prominent visitors. President Theodore Roosevelt spent a whole summer at the Colorado Hotel in 1905. The locals say that the president went hunting and when there was no catch he was rather disappointed so the hotel maids made a small bear out of scraps of cloth in order to cheer him up. The President gave the toy to his daughter Alice and she called is a teddy bear. And so a legend was born.
Doc Halliday, a wild west gunslinger spent the last months of his life in Glenwood Springs and is buried in the pioneer cemetery there. Abdu’l-Baha stayed the night at the Colorado Hotel in 1912 where a small plaque has been placed in the rose garden to remember this event. Glenwood Springs was one of the first places in the United States to have electric lighting. The first lights were installed in the Fairy Caves on Iron Mountain in 1897.
I stayed at the Denver Hotel (established 1915) right across the road from the train station. The hot springs and the Hotel Colorado were just on the other side of the river. I walked over a foot bridge past the spa to the Hotel Colorado where I had lunch on the terrace. A couple of actors dressed up as Wyatt Earp and Doc Halliday entertained the diners. I walked further along the road to the cable car and rode up the hillside to visit the caves. There were good views from the top and my comfortable hotel provided a safe refuge from the rocking of the train.
Three days in Denver allowed me to visit art galleries and museums including the home of the Unsinkable Molly Brown who survived the Titanic Disaster in April 1912. She was a colourful character who lived in Denver for many years first with her husband then after their separation she continued to live in the family home which is now open to visitors. The beautiful old home gives a good picture of what life must have been like in those days.
I spent a day in the Denver Art Museum and another morning at the botanical gardens. I stayed in the historic district in a lovingly restored home known as the Patterson Inn. From my bedroom I had a view of the dome on the legislature building. It was very central and within walking distance of everything. The friendly staff served excellent breakfasts and I was delighted with the place.
From Denver I flew to Albuquerque where I met Phil and Vicky. They were good friends when they lived in Thames and now that they have relocated to Arizona we meet by Skype but it is not the same as seeing someone face to face.
We drove to Taos where there were so many interesting things to see. We stayed at the very luxurious Monte Sagrada Hotel in a suite surrounded by gardens and water features. The suites were named after different countries such as China and Morocco. We stayed in the Mexico Suite which was just beautiful. We had our own courtyard and spa pool as well as two double bedrooms and two bathrooms. The hotel kept an excellent table and we were very comfortably located near the historic town and the Taos Pueblo.
Taos is the last resting place of Christopher Houston Carson known as Kit Carson, a frontiersman, guide, Indian agent and US Army officer. He had a colourful life and became a legend in his own time. Born in Richmond Kentucky he left home at 16 to become a mountain man and fur trapper in the West. He joined fur trapping expeditions into the Rocky Mountains where he lived among and married into the Arapaho and Cheyenne Indian tribes. In the 1840s he was hired by John C Fremont as a guide and they went on three expeditions together. In June 1846 they participated in an uprising of Californians against Mexico known as the Bear Flag Revolt. Mexico ordered all Americans to leave California. They were unwilling to leave and wanted to establish California free of the Mexican Government. With protection from Fremont and his men, California eventually became independent. Carson took the military records to the Secretary of War in Washington DC. He made two quick trips across the continent in 1847 and 1848 and became very well known for these journeys.
One of his best known adventures took place during the Mexican-American war 1846-1848 when Carson guided General Stephen W Kearney and his troops from Socorro, New Mexico to San Diego, California and participated in the battle near the village of San Pasqual, California.
When the American Civil War broke out in 1861, Carson left his job as an Indian Agent and joined the Union Army as a lieutenant. He was promoted to Colonel. Once the Confederates were driven out of New Mexico, Carson was involved in a number of campaigns against different Indian tribes.
Today his home in Taos is a museum. I visited there with Phil and Vicky. There are many stories about him and he is remembered as an energetic campaigner. Historian, David Roberts, writes of him “Carson’s trajectory, over three and a half decades, from thoughtless killer of Apaches and Blackfeet to defender and champion of the Utes, marks him out as one of the few frontiersmen whose change of heart towards the Indians, born not of missionary theory but of first hand experience, can serve as an exemplar for the more enlightened policies that sporadically gained the day in the twentieth century.”
We visited the Native American village known as the Taos Pueblo. We took a guided tour led by a well spoken young man with Indian features and blue eyes. He told us that he was three quarters Indian and his name was Cesario Gomez. His Indian name was Blue Lake Elk and he said the name was chosen because of his blue eyes. There is a place called Blue Lake so his name may also refer to an ancient homeland.
He was very knowledgeable and we learned that the pueblo has been inhabited for about 1000 years by the Tiwa speaking people of that locality. A stream that rises in the nearby mountains runs through the village where there is a permanent population of about 150 people. The most prominent architectural feature is a multi storied residential complex where there are very few doors as the people gain access by means of ladders and trapdoors through the roof. The pueblo was designated a National Historic Landmark in 1960 and in 1992 it was designated a UNESCO World Heritage site.
The first Spanish visitors reached the pueblo in 1540 bringing new agricultural practices and a new religion. The indigenous people resisted these changes at first but gradually the new ideas took root. New Mexico became a territory of the United States of America in 1847.
Santa Fe, the capital of New Mexico, nestles in the foothills of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains. Founded as a Spanish colony in 1610 the town is built around a plaza. In the centre of the plaza a marble obelisk memorialises the battles fought in the area. I was interested to see that part of one inscription had been chipped out and the story goes that one day a young man climbed over the fence and removed the word “savage” that had been used to describe the first nation peoples of the area.
Today there are many historic landmarks surrounding the plaza such as the adobe Palace of the Governors now home to the New Mexico History Museum where I spent a morning moving slowly from one exhibit to the next. Just along the road I found 109 East Palace Street which was for 20 years (1943-1963) the Santa Fe office of the Manhattan Project. I forgot to take a photo of the plaque outside the door. The offices are now shops. The scientists have all disappeared but their legacy will overshadow the world forever or at least until the swords become ploughshares.
During our visit the town was gearing up for the annual Indian Market when traditional artists from miles around set up street stalls to sell beadwork, woven blankets and rugs as well as pottery. A large number of vendors filled up the space outside the Palace. I bought an extravagant pair of earrings for Barbara. Unfortunately we did not realise that the market was happening until we arrived. We had already made our plans that did not include spending a lot of time at the market so we missed the excitement.
We visited the Art Museum and the Georgia O’Keefe Museum and consumed chocolate. We walked around the town centre and visited the Cathedral Basilica of St Francis. The church was built by Jean-Baptist Lamy (who became the Archbishop for the Diocese) on the site of an older adobe church destroyed in the pueblo revolt of 1680. A beautiful altar screen was made to commemorate the 100th anniversary of the Cathedral. It features an 18th centrury carved statue of St Francis surrounded by the saints of the New World. Outside this handsome building was a statue of the first Native American woman to be canonised (October 2012). She was Kateri Tekakwitha, an Algonquian-Mohawk woman from the area that is now known as New York.
A short distance along the road was the church of the Sisters of Loretto adjacent to a hotel for travellers. We did not get a chance to look inside the church but according to a local story, the church as a choir loft but after the building was completed the sisters realised that they could not climb up to the choir loft with modesty as there was no staircase. In answer to their prayers a builder turned up and constructed a miraculous spiral staircase with no centre support. The problem of access to the loft was solved but the mysterious man did not leave a name or ask for any payment. The story has grown up that it was St Joseph himself who helped the sisters. There was so much to see and not enough time.
The main purpose of the visit was to attend the Santa Fe Opera festival. The Opera House is a little out of town where it melts into the desert amid truly spectacular scenery. Every August there is a festival of 5 operas including new works and people come from all over the world to see the productions. Today the Santa Fe Opera has the third largest budget of any opera company in USA. The opera house has evolved from the original structure in 1957 with seating for 450 people into a highly unusual, state of the art design with open sides so that the audiences can feel the breathings of the night. The opera house complex included rehearsal rooms and meeting spaces as well as an opera shop and a restaurant.
On our first night after a tailgate picnic in the car park, we saw a new work based on the novel by Charles Frazier “Cold Mountain” with Jay Hunter Morris playing the role of Teague and Nathan Gunn playing W.P. Inman. The music was beautiful and I was very impressed with the production. There was an especially moving chorus of the spirits of the dead. As the story of Inman the deserter from the Confederate Army unfolded, there was an electrical storm outside. The pyrotechnics seemed to come right into the opera house from the desert. It could not have been better arranged.
After that first night Barbara arrived to spend a few days with us. We saw “Salome” together. On the third night Vicky, Phil and I went to “Rigoletto” while Barbara had an early night. The two other operas were “Daughter of the Regiment” and “La Finta Giandinera” which were amusing and very well performed. An opera festival will always include some performances that are superb and sometimes others that are less so. I loved the whole experience and Phil and Vicky immediately booked to go to the Festival next year. I would love to return but not next year.
Ghost Ranch is a large estate of some 21,000 acres located near the village of Abiquiu in Northern New Mexico about an hour’s drive from Santa Fe. The place has a colourful history including tales of cattle rustlers and murders. It is said that the canyon where the stolen cattle were hidden is haunted. Some people claim to hear the voices of a man and woman arguing,
The property was a dude ranch in the 1920s and 1930s. Georgia O’Keefe visited to see for herself if the ranch was really the best place in the world. She fell in love with the place and divided her time between New York and Ghost Ranch for many years. After the death of her husband she lived there full time from 1949 until her death in 1986. She enjoyed having time alone and the colours and landforms inspired her art work. She painted a mountain called Pedernal many times under different light conditions. This flat topped mountain can be seen from many places on Ghost Ranch and it became almost a signature for the artist.
About 200 million years ago the American South West including Ghost Ranch lay near the equator and the weather was warm and wet. Fossil bones were found there and in 1947 the palaeontologist Edwin H Colbert documented the discovery of over 1000 well preserved fossilized skeletons of a small Triassic dinosaur called Coelophysis. The remains were found in a quarry and it is thought that the dinosaurs living in the area were suddenly overwhelmed by a landslide.
There is a resident palaeontologist at Ghost Ranch who was most informative and enthusiastic about the fossil discoveries. We took a guided walk into the hills to see where large blocks of stone have been removed then crushed into small pieces in order to extract the bones.
We lunched in the large communal dining room that is part of the educational facilities owned by the Presbyterian Church. Today there are over 300 courses offered each year and people can stay in cabins on the land. There are walks as well as opportunities for solitude.
Barbara had to leave us after the visit to Ghost Ranch. The rest of the party carried on through the stupendous landforms to the picturesque little town of Durango (population 18,800 in 2010) where we took a day trip on the famous narrow gauge railway to Silverton. Durango is a railway town established to serve the mining areas in the San Juan Mountains. The Animas River (the River of Souls) runs through the town and the train route follows the river uphill to the historic mining town of Silverton. We rode in a carriage made in 1882 painted Rio Grande gold with a guide who told stories and filled in many historical details.
The Durango Silverton Railway is the oldest continuously operating line in USA. It is a relic of the Wild West and has survived disastrous floods and a fire that destroyed the historic roundhouse in 1989. Each time the locomotives and rolling stock as well as the lines themselves have been rebuilt due to the enthusiasm and dedication of a very small number of supporters.
The narrow gauge railway line was laid in rugged terrain over an 8 month period and was completed in the summer of 1882. The platform where the lines were laid had to be blasted out of the rock by men on ropes who slid down the cliff face and placed black powder into holes then had to be lifted clear before the explosion. They must have been very brave men. The narrow gauge was chosen as it was cheaper and made it easier for the trains to negotiate the sharp turns around precipitous cliffs.
Originally the train carried ore from Silverton to the larger towns for refining. By 1942 the Silverton mines had been played out and it appeared that the line would finally be closed. During the war the US Army wanted to take the locomotives and rolling stock to Alaska for the war effort but this was opposed by the local people despite the fall in passenger numbers.
Enter Hollywood. A number of movies were filmed in the area including the famous sequence in “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid” in 1969 where the central characters appeared to jump off the moving train into the Animus River.
I was thrilled by the scenery and the closeness pf the wildlife to the track. There was a deer relaxing so close that I could almost put out a hand to touch the animal. There were squirrels and chipmunks as well as birds. The weather was fine when we got on to the train but by the time we reached Silverton it was raining. The train stopped in the middle of the street and we scampered into the nearest café for lunch. The rain continued as we had a quick look at the shops and the mineral displays but there was not a lot to detain us.
Back in Durango we impulsively went to a night at the theatre where we were regaled with a ghost story set in one of the historic hotels. We ate ice cream and walked around to look at everything. We stayed two nights before continuing on to Farmington.
We drove through the desert passing the turnoff to Monument Valley with its magnificent rock formations. Although the area seemed familiar due to my childhood of Wild West movies, I was awestruck by the size of the rock formations. Truly astounding.
The Wupatki National Monument protects the ancient dwellings of Puebloan peoples. In this part of Arizona on the Colorado Plateau the volcanic landscape is dry and rugged. In former times the area was extensively farmed by people who lived in villages similar to the one we saw near Taos. By 1180 there were thousands of people in the area but by 1250 when the volcanic activity at Sunset Crater had quietened the villages were abandoned.
Nineteenth century explorers marvelled at the well preserved pueblos. Early visitors took rocks as souvenirs but later the archaeological sites were looted. A film company wanted to create a landslide but succeeded in awakening activists who feared irreversible damage to the volcanic crater. In 1930 President Herbert Hoover created a National Park. Thousands of visitors climbed up the volcanic cone causing such damage that the scarred mountain was closed to visitors.
Today there is a Visitors’ Centre and a well marked path to the ruined pueblo and a ring for ball games. The exact purpose of the paved circular area is unknown. It is thought by the experts that the area was used for rituals. The pueblo is strangely quiet as if waiting for the people to return.
My time in USA was running out. We stopped briefly to admire rock formations outside Sedona then I stepped on to the travel conveyor belt at Phoenix Airport.
I flew over to Melbourne on an Air NZ Special fare with the specific purpose of visiting the exhibition of art treasures from the court of Catherine the Great. I was able to combine this with seeing a number of friends so it was a busy four days.
I stayed at a hotel in Chinatown and took the opportunity to visit the Museum of Chinese History meaning the history of Chinese people in Melbourne. The story was not so different from that of NZ where numbers of young men left their homeland to seek their fortunes in the new country. They suffered poverty and loneliness but through hard work they became established in Melbourne and today the community appears busy and prosperous.
The Catherine the Great Exhibition at the National Gallery of Victoria consisted mostly of paintings including life sized portraits of Charles I of England and his wife Henrietta Maria. There was a collection of snuff boxes and a most beautiful dinner set in gold and turquoise coloured porcelain. There was a special corridor set up with movie film so that the view and perspective changed as you walked along just as it would if you were in the real thing.
I also saw the WWI exhibition in the Melbourne Museum. This included reconstructions of battles, lots of photos and moving stories of the experiences of individuals. It was well worth a visit. No photography was allowed at either exhibition.
One day I lunched with Sharon Hulin and on another day I took the train out to Altona North in order to meet Mila now aged one year for the first time. Shirin met me at the train station and we went to see Mila having a swimming lesson. We lunched at a local café and we talked for hours. I was so happy to catch up with them again.
Liz McKay and her sister, Mary Hanson, were in this country to visit their family in September. They spent a weekend with me and as promised I took them to see the mining history of the town. Fortunately the weather behaved and we were able to enjoy the fabulous view of three harbours from the Kereta Hill. I still believe that the drive along the Thames Coast is one of the most scenic spots in this country. Too bad the pohutukawa trees were not in bloom at that time of the year.
We drove to the top of the hill at the north end of Thames to enjoy the view as well as to see the WWI Monument. The scrub has been cleared away from the south side of the hill and a new forest planting is planned as a memorial for the Battle of Messines. The tall obelisk recording the names of the fallen is also in need of repair so I expect that there will be some fundraising for that project as well.
We visited various places associated with mining activities including the School of Mines, the stamper battery at Moanatairi and the Bella Street Pumphouse. We were lucky to find people at these places who took the time to show us around and explain the exhibits. Despite the fact that I have lived in Thames for 40 years I still learned new things. We did not get as far as Waihi to see the huge open cast Martha Mine. I told them that they will have to come back to see these extra places.
The mining history of the Thames Goldfields is not so different from the history of mining in Grass Valley. It is clear that the desire for gold drove people to great exertions, building roads, laying rail tracks and digging shafts and tunnels. The hills behind Thames (and Waihi) are honeycombed with mine relics including discarded machinery and huge concrete abutments. These are all a source of fascination for students of industrial history. I was very impressed with the reconstruction of mining equipment at Bella Street. A large collection of old photos was also very informative. One photo showed the main road into Thames which 100 years ago went along Maramarahi Road and crossed the Kauaeranga River just south of the Maori Church on Parawai Road. Today Maramarahi Road is an insignificant side street and the main highway follows the west bank of the Kauaeranga until the river turns west and joins the Firth of Thames.
On Sunday morning we attended a service at the Maori Church on Parawai Road. I had never been there before in all the years that I have lived here. I need more visitors to stimulate my exploration of this town.
The flights were on time but long and I arrived in London feeling just a little tired. There was a Limo to whisk me off to my hotel on High Holborn where I met the other members of the tour under the leadership of Liesl Nunns. She was ably assisted by several other women from RNZB who accompanied us to various tour activities in between their work commitments. I was happy to meet Pagan, a London born and London trained dancer who is now working as a dance educator in NZ as well as Diane who is an administrator with RNZB. There are seven tour participants altogether – Alison and Eric from Auckland who I already know through Wagner Society, Catherine and Steven from Wellington, Roz and Larry from Palmerston North and me.
Our hotel is Citadines Holborn- Covent Garden which is a very long name but essential to distinguish it from another hotel with a similar name not too far away. It is an apartment Hotel so I can self cater to some extent. There is a Waitrose supermarket across the road and a Sainsbury’s at the end of the block. There are stalls selling fresh fruit and veges at the road side and the Holborn Underground station is around the corner. We are centrally located and I walked to a lot of our appointments at the Royal Opera House and to the theatre district.
On that first afternoon as the light was fading and I was fading along with it, I met my fellow supporters in the lobby. We went for a drink at the pub across the road then walked to the Royal Opera House for a back stage tour. The place is enormous and is the third opera house to stand on that site following disastrous fires in 1808 and 1856. It is now a major performing arts venue and home to the Royal Opera, the Royal Ballet and the opera house orchestra. It was originally a playhouse and the first ballet was presented in 1734.
There was a major reconstruction in the 1990s and now it seats 2256 people in four tiers of boxes, balconies and the amphitheatre gallery. The interior is a Grade I listed building with elaborate carvings and gold decorations. Each tier has little pink lamps of the kind that people have in bedrooms and the effect is of sumptuous wealth and comfort. As we went about our visit the audience was gathering for a performance of “Carmen” starring Jonas Kaufman as Don Jose.
Apart from the main concert hall there are a number of smaller theatres and workshop spaces. We ended our tour with attending an Insights workshop in the Clore Studio with choreographer Javier de Frutos explaining his new ballet “Anatomy of a Passing Cloud” assisted by members of the RNZB. Sadly tiredness was overcoming me and I have not retained much of what was said.
On 17 November the whole supporters group visited the Victoria and Albert Museum to see the theatre collection. The others went off on various errands and I stayed for three more hours to see an exhibition about the textiles of India. There is a rich tradition of dyeing fabrics using materials available in various localities. The colours are brilliant and the traditions are so strong that weaving patterns and block printing along with mordants have been used for generations. The more opulent silks were favoured by the wealthy but there is a strong modern trend started by Mahatma Gandhi to manufacture cotton thread using hand spinning wheels. The wheel image in the national flag represents the spinning method still used today. As a result there is a strong desire amongst all classes of society encouraged by leading public figures to wear simple cotton garments.
Cloth was used for global trading over thousands of years. Most of the exports were intended for everyday utilitarian items. Ancient household furnishings, tailored garments and even sail cloth made of Indian cotton have been found in sites as far apart as Chinese Central Asia and the Middle East. Indian cotton identifiable by its fibres and spinning methods dating back 6000 years has been excavated in Jordan and pieces of plain Indian cotton dating from the first century AD have been found on the Red Sea coast.
The whole exhibition was fascinating and I would love to spend another afternoon there but already I can see that I am going to run out of time in London.
That evening we attended the premier of the RNZB season in London. Prior to the show there were drinks hosted by the NZ High Commission. There were many luminaries present including from NZ and UK. Scottish Ballet has purchased the NZ production of Cinderella so the guests included a number of production experts associated with the development of that ballet as well as the ones that we enjoyed on this evening.
The programme included four short ballets beginning with the one that was workshopped on our first night. The dancers wore short versions of a pareu with bold and colourful patterns of tropical flora. The Linbury Studio throbbed to the sound of Pacific Island drumming and waiata as well as the sound of Te Reo in readings from the book of Genesis. And as if that were not powerful enough, the programme continued with two more ballets that I had seen earlier in the year when the dancers were accompanied by the NZ Army band. Although the music was recorded in Wellington and played on a good sound system in London it did not diminish the impact at all. In particular the ballet called “Passchendaele” was notable for some dramatic dancing by the men of the corps de ballet. The choreography was by Neil Ieremia who is the founder of the successful male dance group called “Black Grace”. The third ballet called “Dear Horizon” recalled the wives and mothers left at home as “our boys” set out on their great adventure. I found the last ballet harder to follow. The music was taken from the opening choruses of Bach’s St Matthew and St John Passions. The programme notes suggested that the ballet was dealing with ideas of heaven and hell. Perhaps I would see that more clearly through greater familiarity with this work.
Other tour activities included a most interesting visit to the Freed of London Pointe shoe factory which has supplied dancers from all over the world since 1929. The business was started by a cobbler, Frederick Freed, his wife and an assistant. The company still operates from its original premises and today makes numerous styles of dancing shoes for ballet, ballroom and theatre. Freed shoes are handmade using the traditional turn shoe method using a “signature” peach coloured satin fabric made in Scotland. The toe box is constructed by gluing together triangles of paper and hessian using a water based glue. After the box is formed, pleats are drawn in the satin that covers the toe and secured with metal pincers. The shoe is then stitched using specialised machines and the sole is joined to the upper with wax thread. Next the shoe is turned right-side-out and the insole inserted. Finally the box which is not yet dry is hammered into the desired shape and baked overnight in a special oven.
When we visited there were about 15 skilled men working on pointe shoes. There were plenty of other people working on different projects or special orders. I was particularly interested to see one man making shoes out of tartan fabric for a Scottish wedding. The firm trains apprentices and in October 2% of the shoes were rejected by the quality controller. Each cobbler makes about 50 shoes a day mostly to the specific requirements of a particular dancer. The firm will make one off shoes for students while professional dancers will order 20 pairs of shoes at a time from a specific preferred cobbler. Each cobbler stamps his own letter or symbol on the sole of each shoe and some of the men have been working at this factory for all their adult life. It is hard physical work and although there were women employed as finishers the actual making of the shoes was men’s work.
After the factory some of the tour members went to see retail ballet shops. This did not interest me so much so I managed to do other kinds of retail therapy. I found a shop selling Nordic products designed by Gudrun Sjoren and happily my bag is already quite full so I did not get as much as I wanted.
On another day we visited the home of the Rambert Dance Company where I was very impressed with the excellent standard of all the facilities. I would love to see our company having something similar. A huge amount of funding will be necessary to achieve anything like it. We were shown the archives and the costume department. The company home is a most beautiful purpose designed building with natural light in most of the work spaces and state of the art storage facilities.
The dancers work very hard. At Rambert there were classes for older people as well as the usual rigorous training for those who wish to make a career in dance. Our company also reaches out to schools and other community groups as well as attending regular classes rehearsals and naturally performances. We watched a class for our dancers on Friday at the same studio where they performed earlier in the week.
Another part of our tour itinerary was to have a special dinner at the Opera House followed by attendance at the Royal Ballet production of “Romeo and Juliet”. The production included the complicated sets that we cannot afford in NZ along with the most splendid costumes. The dancing was just beautiful and we came out into a cold drizzling evening singing the well known musical themes. This production by Kenneth Macmillan was quite different from the NZ version which I enjoyed so much several years ago. The fatal rivalry between the Capulets and the Montagues was somewhat updated to gang warfare in the NZ version. In London there was a most excellent sword fight. It was a fabulous evening.
Apart from the tour activities I made a point of seeing some shows. I went to see “The Mousetrap” which has been running at the St Martin’s Theatre for over 60 years. The play is a murder mystery by Agatha Christie and it certainly kept me guessing. I probably laughed in some inappropriate places as the story and setting seemed a bit dated now. As usual the audience was asked not to reveal whodunit. I loved the traditional theatre with the ornate boxes and carved decorations. There was a splendid red curtain and in accordance with the Lord Chamberlain’s regulations the safety curtain was lowered and raised in the presence of the audience.
I went to a matinee of “War Horse” which was moving as well as innovative in its use of puppets. This show had been highly recommended by a number of people and I am very glad that I made the effort to see it. I also went to see “Billy Elliott” at the Victoria Palace theatre. Getting there involved changing lines on the tube and ending up in Victoria Station where I got completely lost and could not find my way out. I had to ask a nice young policeman who guided me towards the exit. The show was terrific with a lot of energetic singing and some talented youngsters. The show is a feel good story about people making good despite disastrous economic circumstances. It fitted in well with movies such as “Brassed Off” and “Calendar Girls”. I was very impressed with the lad who played the central character. He danced and tumbled and was very charismatic. The show received a standing ovation from a capacity audience.
Diane Field and I went to a matinee of “Carmen” which was most excellent. The role of Don Jose was played by an understudy (rather to my disappointment as I was hoping to hear Jonas Kaufmann) but the singing and acting were all of a very high quality. The biggest drama of the evening was that the performance started a little late due to the indisposition of the conductor who became unwell ten minutes before the overture was to begin. So it was a different maestro in the pit and he received a huge ovation at the end of the evening.
I went to see “The Book of Mormon” at the Prince of Wales theatre which is a newer venue and not as ornate as the Royal Opera House. The audience loved the show which was high energy with lots of singing and dancing. There was much laughter and applause. For me the best show I have seen on this trip was “War Horse”. Other people on the tour went to different shows which they enjoyed. As I walked around I found lots of other interesting things going on but I ran out of time. If ever I am able to come back to London, I would like to see some Shakespeare … the Kenneth Branagh company was performing “A Winter’s Tale” and Mark Roylance was starring in a play at another venue and Nicole Kidman at another. There is so much to see in a big city.
My last tour activity was a farewell brunch at Peter Gordon’s restaurant in Monmouth Street. We walked from our hotel to the restaurant which is located in the Seven Dials area. Seven Dials is the name of a cross roads where seven streets meet at a small open area around a pillar. The original layout was designed by Thomas Neale in the early 1690s. It was expected to become a fashionable gathering area for well to do residents similar to the nearby Covent Garden Piazza but instead it became associated with poverty and slum dwellers. The original pillar had six dials with the pillar itself being the seventh. It was demolished in 1773 in order to rid the area of “undesirables”.
The area was described by Charles Dickens in his “Sketches by Boz” “The stranger who finds himself in the Dials for the first time … at the entrance of Seven obscure passages, uncertain which to take, will see enough around him to keep his curiosity awake for no inconsiderable time … “. Gilbert and Sullivan mention the area in “Iolanthe” and Agatha Christie set “The Seven Dials Mystery” there. No doubt there are many stories associated with the area. The pillar was rebuilt in 1988/89 to the original design. It was unveiled by Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands during her visit to commemorate the tercentenary of the reign of William and Mary when the area was originally developed.
Today Seven Dials is a busy commercial neighbourhood between the West End Theatre District in Shaftesbury Avenue and the shopping precinct around Neal’s Yard. It is an excellent location for celebrity chef, Peter Gordon, to open a restaurant as it is always crowded with people. When we arrived for breakfast the place had not quite opened but almost as soon as we were seated the place was full. Catherine and Steven had already left but we were joined by two of the dancers. There was lots of laughter and the food was excellent. The small restaurant was very busy so we were going our separate ways soon after. It was rather sad to say good bye but I know I will see Alyson and Eric in Auckland and probably the others on future tours.
I wandered off through the Seven Dials area looking at shops and eventually I found the area where I got lost looking for St Martin’s Theatre and “The Mousetrap” earlier in the week. Like Dickens I found myself unable to decide which road to take as they were all lit with similar Christmas decorations and at first I could not see the road signs. Definitely a good area to spend no inconsiderable time.
I walked to the National Portrait Gallery where I spent the rest of the day admiring three different exhibitions. The first was “Pure Presence”, a major exhibition of the work of Alberto Giacometti including over 60 paintings sculptures and drawings gathered from public and private collections around the world. Throughout his career Giacometti was fascinated by the artistic complexities of depicting a human presence. His models were family members and a few others that he knew well and he struggled to record his constantly changing perceptions of their appearance and emotions. The result has been an oeuvre focussed on faces and in his later life on the eyes of his subjects. The images were arresting, challenging and dynamic.
The second exhibition consisted of the best photos submitted for the 2015 Taylor Wessing Photographic Portrait Prize. Entries from around the world employed traditional as well as contemporary photographic images. I went around the room several time admiring the pictures showing people of all cultures and ages. I was very impressed with the diversity of the images.
Lastly I spent some time going around to different rooms in the gallery to see Simon Schama’s “Face of Britain” exhibition. Schama developed the displays in partnership with the BBC to explore how portraiture has been used as a statement of power, a declaration of love, for the promotion of fame, to offer insights into the artists themselves and to capture ordinary people. In particular the portraits have been arranged so as to provide a fresh perspective on the history of Britain and the identity of its people. There were pictures of the Royal Family painted at various stages in their lives, some formal and many less so. There were pictures of politicians such as Winston Churchill and Maggie Thatcher. It was interesting to see how portraits of the Tudors were produced at different stages in their lives and to compare these with modern portraiture.
I spent so much time at these exhibitions that it was dark when I came outside. The temperature has dropped over the last few days and I was glad of the warm clothes that I had brought with me from NZ. I expect that if it is this cold in London it will be snowing in Scotland.
On my last day I went to the National Gallery to see the exhibition of Goya portraits and from there to the British Museum to see an exhibition of Celtic Art. Both were extremely infrmative in different ways and I am very happy to have the opprtu ity to attend. London is a great city and there is so much going on. There is a real sense of energy about the place and despite the recent terrorist attack in Paris there are still crowds of people everywhere.
The train from Paddington to Chippenham passed through beautiful rolling farmland. The land was green and smiling despite the gloomy weather. Tony met me at Chippenham and carried my excessively heavy bag up the stairs and over the track. I had to explain that I was carrying winter as well as summer clothing together with shoes for all weather.
Although it is several years since I have been to stay with Tony and Sally I was happy to find myself in familiar territory. This is only the second time that I have visited UK in winter so we have not been out walking and nor have we inspected the garden. The conservatory area is kept closed in order to keep the house warm.
On my second day Tony drove us to the nearby village of Castle Combe which is so picturesque that it has been used as a background for many movies over the years. It was the location for the 1987 movie “Doctor Dolittle” and more recently scenes from “War Horse” and “Downton Abbey” were shot there. The village is so charming that it is easy to understand why it is so popular with movie makers.
The village prospered during the 15th century when wool merchants supported Henry V’s war in France.
We visited the church of St Andrew which is the home of one of the very few English medieval clocks still in use. The mechanism sits in a glass box at the front of the church where for 20p visitors can turn on a light to see it working. We were lucky to be present when the clock chimed which involved a lever pulling a rope attached to a bell hidden in the church tower.
Inside the church was a photo display about the making of the “War Horse” movie. There is a great deal of interest in the stories about WWI so there was also a display about some of the major battles along with information about local men who made the supreme sacrifice. In New Zealand many communities have a wharenui or ancestral house where the tales of heroism are preserved. England and Scotland have their churches full of historical references and surrounded by the last resting places of their community. Castle Combe was no exception with a reclining statue of an early lord of the area.
The 14th century market cross erected when the village was granted the privilege of holding a weekly market is located at the place where the three principal roads converge. Nearby is the village pump and a butter cross also dating from medieval times. A butter cross is where people from neighbouring villages would come together to sell fresh milk, butter and eggs laying out their produce on the steps below the cross.
We had a coffee at the Rectory Tea Rooms. I enjoyed the low ceilings and the dark panelling of the interior and I was also very taken with the roses and ribbons pattern glazed on the facilities in the washroom.
Helen and Harold Jones had been invited to lunch but it was decided that we would make lunch and take it to them. In honour of the occasion Helen produced a pan of baked apples. I made a soup. Sally made a delicious lemon rice pudding and Tony bought some artisan bread during his visit to Bath. We converged on the Jones home at Winsley where we had a very convivial lunch. It was Tony’s birthday. Helen turned 70 earlier in the month and I also had a birthday recently so we laughed and told stories and promised to get together again soon. The Joneses are about to leave for NZ and the Kerrs will be there in January so we may manage this very soon.
On my last night with Tony and Sally we had supper with Diane before driving to the Wiltshire Music Centre to see a silent movie called "La Passion de Jeanne D'Arc" directed by Carl Theodor Dreyer. The movie opened in Copenhagen in April 1928 and could not be shown in Paris until changes were made at the insistence of the French Church. It was banned in UK beacuse the British soldiers were shown as brutal torturers. Ironic that the actual treatment of poor Jeanne was so much worse. Despite the lack of enthusiasm back then the movie is now recognised for its imaginative use of the camera and the fine performance of Maria Falconetti as the Maid of Orleans. The visual images were accompanied when we saw it by the beautiful choral music of the early 15th century which would have been sung in churches and possibly heard by Jeanne herself. The early 15th century was a transitional period for polyphonic music and great care was taken to select works for each scene in the movie. The 14th century style was used for the torture room scene and the final hectic crowd scenes. The later more melodic style was performed with other scenes to great effect by the Orlando Consort. The five unaccompanied voices were appropriate for the portrayal of a woman whose divine inspiration came in the form of voices from St Michael, St Catherine and St Margaret. it was a truly inspirational evening.
On 29 November we drove up to London to attend the Advent Carol Service at Westminster Abbey. We lunched at a Spanish Tapas restaurant near the home of Sally’s friend, Rachael, who is an Usher at the Abbey. Rachael arranged seats for us in the choir area. From my seat I could see the rose window as well as the high altar and to my left the choir stalls were lit with little red covered lamps.
The service began with silence as the lights were extinguished. The red robed choir came to the front door and as the singing began the candles held by the people in the congregation were lit. The service continued with prayers, readings and anthems. Eventually the choir passed beyond the screen and many young boys in red cassocks filled the Abbey with their treble voices. The clergy processed to the altar passing within touching distance of my seat. It was a most splendid celebration of the opening of Advent and I was quite moved just to be there.
It was not the time to take a tour of this marvellous building so steeped in history. I can see that I will need to make another visit for that purpose. The Abbey is special not only for its history but also for its relationship to other churches in the Anglican hierarchy. It is not a cathedral but is known as a Royal Peculiar because of its special relationship with the Royal family. It is the burial place for many kings and queens as well as many prominent citizens. There is a special part of the Abbey for memorials to poets and another for politicians.
We left Rachael in the Abbey and went out into the cold evening. We waked past the Houses of Parliament and Big Ben. I took some photos but my little camera could not capture the magnificence of the scene. We took a tube to see St Pauls Church but it was closed and we could not go inside. It was too cold for me to stand around for long so we returned to my hotel for a cup of tea before Sally and Tony drove home leaving me to start the next stage of my adventures.
Over the past few years I have been researching the life of the first person to accept the Baha’I Faith in New Zealand. She was Margaret Stevenson born in Onehunga on 30 November 1865. On the 150th anniversary of her birthday I set off by train to meet Janet Fleming Rose, a retired librarian working on Baha’I history projects.
Janet and her husband, Andrew, live in St Albans a town named after the first British Christian martyr. Andrew told me the story of St Alban living in a Roman town called Verulamium on the site of the modern St Alban’s Cathedral. In those far off days the Christians were persecuted. Alban met a priest fleeing for his life from the Romans and Alban hid the man in his own home. Under the influence of the priest Alban accepted Christianity. Eventually the priest was discovered and Alban was scourged then beheaded and is venerated today using his last words “I worship and adore the true and living God who created all things.”
I spent a number of hours with Janet discussing her work and mine. I was hoping that she would have some information about Margaret Stevenson but she could not think of anything. I read Janet’s article about Sister Challis and behold Margaret was mentioned so I have some leads to follow up.
I took the long train trip from Euston to Glasgow. There were some delays and we arrived later than expected so I missed the convenient connection to Langbank. Barbara picked me up from Bishopton and drove me to her home. There have been many changes in Langbank. The little store has closed and the building demolished. The railway bridge is to undergo some urgent repairs so there will be limited access to Barbara’s home from 5 to 18 December. At this time of the year the hill behind her house (now mercifully free of cattle) is just high enough that the sun does not rise above it and the house is in shade all day. Naturally the newly installed solar panels will be more efficient as the days lengthen.
The biggest changes are to the interior of her home as she has had the wall between the kitchen and dining areas removed and the building extended towards the rear of the property making a solarium. There is a deck with folding doors that will open the entire extension area to the outside. Furthermore she has had a spa pool installed on the deck and although this has not been without incident, I look forward to taking a soak in the pool when time permits.
The fish pond has been disestablished and the garden is full of weeds. Barbara has not decided what to do with that area and this is the wrong time of the year for the garden in any event. I am thinking of my roses at home.
When we were in Turkey Barbara bought some glass lampshades and these have now been attached to a purpose built light fitting and hung at the top of the stairs. The effect is simply beautiful and a splendid reminder of a most wonderful holiday.
We went to a marvellous concert on 3 December at City Halls. The BBC Scottish Symphony Orchestra was celebrating its 80th birthday with a concert featuring the Mozart Oboe Concerto played by Francois Leleux whose energetic reading of this much loved work was thrilling. The programme opened with a UK premiere of a work called “Idyll” by the conductor Matthias Pintscher which was innovative in its use of the orchestra and interesting to hear. After the interval was “Das Lied von der Erde” by Mahler with soloists Anna Larssen and Andrew Staples. They both performed to a high standard and the whole evening was stellar. I will have to keep an eye open for that oboist as he was a stand out with a novel approach to everything about oboe playing.
Olwyn came over to Glasgow for a visit on 4 December and we sat in the warm livingroom and talked about our busy lives until Barbara arrived home. The conviviality continued far into the night. The next morning Barbara drove us into town as Olwyn was on her way home to Edinburgh and I went to visit the Mitchell Library to find out more about the Stevenson family. Barbara attended a course on making macarons ... this was her birthday gift from Olwyn and as I sampled the fruits of her labours I was sure it will be a very useful skill.
On the morning of 6 December we had a conversation with Jean Cook from next door who told us about the catastrophic flooding in Cumbria over the previous 24 hours. There had been about 14 inches of rain in that period. Although it has rained in Glasgow the precipitation has been nothing like that in Cumbria. Jean's garage has been flooded by the rain here and when Barbara checked there had also been water in her garage. We had been blissfully unaware of the disaster. Barbara is drying out her books in the newly completed solarium.
The first Baha’I in England was Mary Thornburgh-Cropper, an American by birth. She became a Baha’I in 1898 and the following year Ethel Rosenberg became the second believer. Another distinguished early believer was Lady Blomfield. All of these women were active supporters of the Faith and Lady Blomfield served on the National Assembly of the Baha’is when it was formed. In those early days there was no meeting place owned by the Faith. Meetings were held in the homes of the believers. Shoghi Effendi, the Guardian of the Faith, suggested that the property at 27 Rutland gate Knightsbridge should be purchased as a National Baha’I centre. The property was located in an expensive area and a great collective effort was made to gather the necessary funds. Lady Blomfield’s daughter facilitated the purchase by making a generous donation.
The property has been beautifully restored and today is used as the meeting place for the National Assembly. When the Universal House of Justice was elected in 1963 the first meeting of the Supreme Body was held at Rutland Gate and at the same time the Hands of the Cause met in another room of the same building. I was able to see both of these rooms when I visited the National Centre.
I was given directions to find the resting place of the Guardian of the Baha’I Faith. When the Guardian passed away in London in 1957 the funeral cortege started from 27 Rutland Gate. I set out from the same address on the tube to Arnos Grove on the Piccadilly Line. The underground came out into the sunlight just before Arnos Grove Station. It was a fine sunny day. I bought two yellow roses at the flower shop in the station then took the bus to the entrance of the New Southgate Cemetery. The directions were very clear and I found the grave site without difficulty. The grave itself is marked by a pillar surmounted by a golden eagle. There were beautiful gardens full of yellow and purple violas on the day of my visit. Nearby there are the graves of many Persian people. A small green shed was occupied by a caretaker who had been performing this service for many years. I had a long chat to him and to a young Canadian of Persian ancestry known as Kash.
Barbara had an extremely heavy teaching schedule during the week 7 to 11 December so I decided to return to my exploration of London. Normally travel by train is fast and efficient but following the floods in Cumbria the rail line through Carlisle was closed for safety checks. There were no trains travelling between Scotland and England by that route. I had to take the train to Edinburgh Waverley then south through York to Kings Cross.
I was unable to book a room in the same hotel as before so this time I stayed in a little place on Tavistock Street in the Bloomsbury District. St Athan’s Hotel is a budget family run place in a convenient location close to the British Museum, the major railway stations and also to Russell Square. The hotel is in a Georgian townhouse in a relatively quiet street across the road from Tavistock Square. My double room on the second floor looked on to the street had had a shared bathroom. There was no lift so I climbed up the step stairway to a narrow corridor with uneven floors. Breakfast was downstairs in the Bloomsbury Café where the food was good and the staff cheerful. I had everything that I needed.
I arrived after darkness fell on Tuesday night. After putting my small bag into my room I set off for Leicester Square taking the tube from Russell Street. Finding the station was an exercise in itself as I could see the “Underground” sign on the corner but I could not see the sign above the entrance as it was dark. Normally the sign above the entrance is illuminated but this time the light was out and someone had to point out where to go.
Leicester Square was lit up for Christmas with a Ferris Wheel and a merry-go-round. I found a booth selling cheap tickets to shows and bought a seat in the Dress Circle to see a performance of “The Winter’s Tale” for 112 GPB … a good price for London but expensive for me. But I am getting myself out of order.
On Tuesday after my arrival in London I saw a movie of a live NT performance of “Jane Eyre” with Madelaine Worrall in the title role. It must have been quite daunting for the company to adapt such a well known novel into a stage performance. The story is world famous and everyone has an idea of what the principal characters would look like. Many of my preconceptions were challenged by the set itself where a group of three musicians were onstage at all times. There was a raised platform, open at the lower level with the higher level accessed via ramps and ladders. At different stages in the action the upper level became the school room at Thornfield Hall, Jane’s bedroom and even the upper room occupied by Bertha Mason. Props were few but the energy level was high and naturally the experience of a theatrical performance was quite different from reading a book. The director, Sally Cookson, explored the themes and got to the heart of the story in a way that was radically different from the way that I read the book at school. The play was about justice and equality as well as about women’s rights. Amazing to think that the company started with no script but simply responded to the book by leaping together into the unknown. The result was memorable and moving and I would recommend the performance to anyone.
On Wednesday afternoon I went to the Royal Academy of Arts to see an exhibition of the work of Ai Weiwei. I had heard of this artist before but I knew almost nothing about his life or his work. Ai Weiwei is a contemporary Chinese artist born in Beijing in 1957. His father, Ai Qing (1910 - 1996), was a renowned poet whose prolific writings brought him into conflict with the Chinese government. He was exiled to the north of China although the reasons for this remain unclear since he was a sincere Maoist. As a result Ai Weiwei was raised in exile until the family returned to Beijing in 1976. He studied at the Beijing Film Academy and at Parsons School of Design in New York where he lived from 1981 to 1993. He became friendly with Allen Ginsberg and was exposed to the work of Andy Warhol.
When he returned to China Ai began using the Twittersphere to advance views critical of the government. There was an 8 magnitude earthquake in Sichuan province on 12 May 2008. Ai led a team of investigators to report on and film the disaster. He collected the names of the deceased many of whom were school children killed by the collapse of their school buildings. It became clear that many of the deaths could be attributed to poor building practices. His photos and a movie as well as wall charts setting out the names of the deceased formed part of the exhibition. Between 2008 and 2012 Ai collected thousands of steel reinforcing bars from building sites. He straightened the bars then laid them flat on the ground sometimes piled on top of each other to create a contoured area corresponding to the topography of China. I tried to take photos of this arresting scene but I think more skill will be needed to do justice to the exhibit. In another room Ai had created a chandelier out of bicycles. Another movie showed a purpose built studio that was demolished by the city authorities before Ai had the chance to occupy it. Ai was held under house arrest while this was happening. He was unable to attend the celebratory feast that was to be offered to the local people at the opening of the studio. Instead the movie showed the guests feasting on crab meat. The Chinese word for “Crab” is close to the sound of the word for “Harmony” so this part of the exhibition was another criticism of the government.
It was a marvellous exhibition and my description is inadequate. I would love to see more of his work. His special genius is to get us to look at things in a different way. Discarded building rods became a map of China. Two broken tables were joined together using traditional carpentry methods to make something quite new and interesting. It was very special to be able to spend an afternoon at the RAA. I look forward to making another visit at some time in the future.
On the Wednesday night I went back to Leicester Square to find the Garrick Theatre where Kenneth Branagh and Judi Dench were starring in “The Winter’s Tale”. I had to enlist the aid of several police officers to find the Garrick Theatre as I threaded my way through the noisy and good humoured crowds. Normally the location would have been obvious but the introduction of various Christmas attractions such as the merry-go-round made it invisible. I had a meal at the steak house across the road from the theatre then entered the fantasy world of the Garrick Theatre. The play was fantastic and it was such a thrill to see actors from the silver screen right there in front of me. I had an excellent seat just to one side of the dress circle but I was able to see the whole stage. It was all marvellous and I thought that the tension between Leontes played by Branagh and Paulina played by Dench was mesmerising. I was not so familiar with this story but the performances were most engaging and I am delighted that I was able to get a seat when the papers were saying that the season was sold out. The safety curtain immortalised by Flanders and Swann made another appearance.
On Thursday there was rain but it was fortunately not very cold. I looked around Tavistock Square admiring the various art works. There is a bust of Virginia Woolf who lived with her husband Leonard Woolf at 52 Tavistock Square. At their home they ran the Hogarth Press. Unfortunately the house was destroyed during the Blitz. Charles Dickens lived at Tavistock House where he wrote “Bleak House”. The centre piece of Tavistock Square is a statute of a seated Mahatma Gandhi sculpted by Freda Brilliant and installed in 1968. A short distance away a cherry tree, naked at the time of my visit, memorialised the victims of the atomic bomb blasts in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. In 1994 a stone was unveiled in honour of conscientious objectors all over the world and in every age. These three art works have led to the Square’s being unofficially designated a Peace Park. It was shocking to see a discreet plaque fixed to the wrought iron railings outside the British Medical Association premises in memory of 13 bus passengers killed by a suicide bomber on 7 July 2005. There is to be a permanent memorial of that sad occasion as well.
I walked down to Russell Square where squirrels were playing and daffodils were nodding. There was a fountain and a memorial tree planted in honour of those who perished on the underground train bound for Russell Square on 7 July 2005. Both Russell and Tavistock Squares were laid out in the 1820s on land owned by the Duke of Bedford. A statue of the Duke stands in Russell Square.
I crossed the square to visit the British Museum passing a large open air market along the way. At the Museum I spent a number of hours at an exhibit tracing the movement of religious ideas in Egypt since the days of the Pharoahs. In that ancient land there are still ancient temples erected in honour of many different Gods as well as places of worship for Jews, Christians and Moslems constructed at different stages of history. It was very informative and worthwhile. When I became tired of standing I took the tube to Piccadilly and walked down to the wonderful Fortnum and Mason store for afternoon tea. This very civilised custom was observed in a large gallery above the shopping floor where a sort of madness seemed to seize quite ordinary looking folks who staggered about laden with armfuls of goods.
After a mouthful of toast and crabmeat followed by apple cake washed down by real leaf tea served in china cups, I crossed the road to the RAA. I was lucky enough to see the famous Fortnum and Mason clock chiming as liveried footmen glided in and out of gingerbread huts.
On this visit to the RAA I saw an exhibition called “White” curated by Edmund de Waal. A number of white objects were displayed including small porcelain beakers and plates that were so delicate they were almost transparent. It is several years since I fell in love with de Waal’s book titled “The Hare with the Amber Eyes” so I was interested to hear more about his work. The exhibit makes the point that white is not a neutral colour. Some would say it is not a colour at all. It forces other colours to reveal themselves. There was a mixture of textual references to whiteness and objects. The article that most fascinated me was a 19th century plaster cast of a bust of an unknown woman (possibly Ippolita Maria Sforza) from about 1473. The sculpture made by Francesco Laurana was destroyed in the bombing of Berlin during WWII. The replica included such delicate details as the embroidered pattern on her dress and her mild and tranquil expression. I looked at this ghost for ages and felt very moved.
I walked back to Piccadilly Circus and on to Leicester Square. These often mentioned landmarks were very close to each other but I had never appreciated that before. An oompah band played Jingle Bells at the foot of the statue of Eros. There were hoardings around the statue so I could not sit on the steps even for a moment. There were Christmas lights strung across the road, decorated trees and red and gold baubles in shop windows. It was all very opulent. In Leicester Square I went to see a movie called “Carol” starring the marvellous Cate Blancette.
Friday was my last day in London. After a good breakfast at the Bloomsbury Café I walked down to Russell Square to see an exhibition titled “Fragments of a Lost Homeland: Remembering the Armenian Genocide” at The Wiener Library for the Study of the Holocaust and Genocide situated on Russell Square. The genocide happened in 1915 when hundreds of thousands of lives were lost as many more people were forced from their homes. Many were left with only fragments of their family histories. The Dildilian family kept diaries and letters as well as many photographs which were shown in UK for the first time at this exhibition. They were such good looking people. The photos are gorgeous … not the snaps that I take but proper studio portraits. I learned a great deal about this disaster and I had a long talk with the young man at the desk. His opinion was that the genocide began because the Armenians were perceived as wealthy but it was soon evident that they were Christians and their persecutors were Muslim.
We had a discussion about the hate speech that whips up antagonisms and the fact this is going on today. There are seminars and exhibitions held regularly to draw attention to these issues. There was an interesting display of magazines in different languages covering issues relating to various kinds of extremists. The Library was located in what was the home of Dr Wiener in an upper middle class area adjacent to the University.
I spent the rest of the day at the British Library looking at an exhibition of different illustrations used with the story of “Alice in Wonderland”. I am most familiar with the ones by John Tenniel that were published in books available when I was a child and I had no idea that so many other people had provided illustrations for this iconic story. The list included Salvatore Dali and Mervyn Peake. The story has been translated into many different languages and is a favourite all over the world.
Next door to “Alice in Wonderland” was an exhibition of numerous works from different cultures representing historical advances in literature, music and art. There was a copy of Magna Carta, copies of early printings of the Bible and other scriptures together with handwritten scores by various composers. There was not enough time to appreciate it all.
Regretfully I had to tear myself away to catch the train back to Glasgow. This time I was able to travel through Carlisle but the train slowed down a lot in that area due to signal faults caused by the flooding. It was an express train stopping only at Preston and had it not been for the floods last week we would have arrived about 8.30 pm. The trip would have taken just under 4 hours under normal conditions.
Every party begins with proper preparation as Mrs Dalloway knew. We prepared by going to the market at Partick and filling carrier bags with good things. We also visited Demijohn and the cheesemonger where we had numerous cheerful conversations with a seasonal flavour. We brunched at an excellent place whose name escapes me … it is a favourite for Barbara. This café is distinguished for the tree growing through the middle of the building. We bought bread in cob loaves and drank coffee.
When we eventually arrived home (after dark as the days are so short at this time of year) Barbara made mushroom soup and I made a lamb tagine. We also made a dessert consisting of pears poached with saffron.
The next morning it was cold with a good frost on the hillside behind the house and frost crystals decorating Barbara’s car. She thought that there was a light snowfall during the night but in the morning grey light it looked like frost.
The menu was greatly appreciated at Sunday lunch by Kirsteen and Jane as well as Hillary and Simon. Kirsteen and Jane arrived first and we exchanged gifts and discussed our plans for the holiday season. The visitors admired Barbara’s new kitchen as well as the new deck and the spa pool. We talked and laughed until it was completely dark. It was after 5 pm when the last people left but it was such a successful party that everyone was happy.
Barbara had a conference to attend at Lancaster University on 14 December. Several of her students were making presentations so Barbara went along as a supporter for one day. We left Langbank in the dark at 6am and drove to the motorway service area where we were to meet another passenger. The parking area was populated by enormous trucks when we arrived and wrapped in such Stygian darkness that we could not see any signs telling us where to park. We drove around slowly and found ourselves facing the motorway on ramp so we had to reverse out of there. It was an uncomfortable experience as several trucks loomed up from the murk behind us and we had to take evasive action.
Fortunately the use of mobile phones saved our bacon. Linda had missed the exit and we moved on to another place where we eventually found each other. We set off together to Lancaster arriving just a little late for the conference opening. Barbara and Linda went immediately into the conference and I walked across the road and took a bus into the town centre.
Lancaster has also suffered flooding in recent days. The River Lune washed over the lower part of the town so that the bus station was closed. The bus stopped on the hill and I walked from there without much idea of what to do. It was not actually raining but it was a dull day. As I went down the hill the place seemed to become damp and depressing. By the time I got to the empty bus station there were men with water blasters washing away debris from shop and residential premises. I could see that there has been a lot of disruption. I made a mental note of the whereabouts of the Maritime Museum and continued back up to the dry lands.
I passed the Cottage Museum (closed Mondays) and the Judges’ Residence (once occupied by Judge Jeffries during the Bloody Assizes) and now closed permanently as no one can be found willing to look after the place. I carried on to Lancaster Castle and took a guided tour. The guide told me that the Maritime Museum is closed following the flooding. After a coffee in the room used until recently for families to visit prisoners incarcerated there a small group followed the guide to the keep.
The castle is a medieval building constructed in various stages in a commanding elevated position overlooking the River Lune. There is not a great deal of information available about its early history but it is known that there was a Roman Fort built in the location in 79AD. The layout of the town appears to have been influenced by the presence of the Roman fortifications. The main access to the town in the early days was a Roman road leading east from the fort. After the Norman Conquest, Lancaster was part of the estate of the Earl of Northumberland and the area was the subject of many disputes between England and Scotland.
Roger de Poitou, the Norman Lord of Lancaster is thought to have started the building but there are no contemporary records. In the turbulent years that began with the rule of Henry I the castle changed hands a number of times until it finally became part of the Royal estate under the rule of Henry II. The castle began to be used as a prison about 1196 and throughout its history additions and alterations to its structure have been made. The so called Pendle Witches were held at Lancaster Castle prior to their execution as was George Fox and some other Quakers thought to be a threat to national security. The prison closed in 1916 due to a national decrease in the number of convicts but it was used to hold German POWs during WWI.
Between the Wars the castle was used as a police training facility and was designated a prison again in the early 1950s. The prison was finally closed in March 2011 and it is expected that the Crown Court that sits in another part of the building will be closed in the next year or so. We were not permitted to see the Crown Court as it was sitting on the day of our visit. We were taken to see the beautiful civil court decorated with the coats of arms of every sovereign since Richard the Lionheart together with the successive public officials in the area. The roof was embossed with the red rose of Lancaster and the dark panelled wooden furniture for the judge and jury added to the impressive scene.
This court has only rarely been used for criminal matters but in recent years with increased security the trial of the Birmingham Six took place there. The most expensive security arrangements were made for the 1980 trial of four men accused of the murder of Marty Johnstone known as Mr Asia because of his dealing in drugs from that area. Johnstone’s handless and mutilated body was found in a quarry in Lancashire. Terry Clark (aka Terry Sinclair) and four others were convicted of this murder. Terry Clark died in prison of a heart attack in 1983.
The castle is now a popular tourist destination and once it is no longer needed by the court I expect that there will be archaeological investigations into its history.
Next to the Castle stands Lancaster Priory, the parish church for Lancaster since 1540. There has been a church on this site since Saxon times and the Norman overlord Roger de Poitou established a Benedictine priory there in 1094. The present day church constructed in sandstone with slate and lead roof includes a memorial chapel to the King’s Own Royal Lancaster Regiment. There are many memorials to townsfolk on the walls and the whole church is adorned with art treasures. The choirstalls carved from oak date from 1340 and are amongst the oldest surviving in England. The seats have misericords some of which are carved and there are modern embroideries on the backs of the seats. The pulpit dates from 1619 but it has been changed since it was installed. There are three brass chandeliers dating from 1717.
In 1807 a runic cross was discovered in the churchyard. It has a runic inscription asking for prayers for Cynebald Cuthburuc. The original is now in the British Museum and a replica is displayed in the church. There was so much more to see but hunger and thirst forced me from my explorations to a nearby pub where I read the paper in warm comfort until it was time to take the bus out to the University again.
The journey between Lancaster and Glasgow could be completed comfortably in three hours but we stopped in Penrith for a meal. We looked around for a pub in the dark and wet. We found plenty of drinking holes but nowhere to eat. Ffinally we went in the back door of a cheerful plance with coloured lights and Christmas decorations. The food was good and the place was warm and comfortable. It was actually typical of the English country pub where people would sit by the fire and read the paper or chat at the bar or have a family meal in the dining area. These places are not so common in Scotland. Although there is a restaurant just down the road from Barbara's place we have not had a meal there during my present visit.
Barbara’s friend Dvora came for a short visit on 15 December. We picked her up from the airport and we went out to the Quarrier’s Village for afternoon tea at the Three Sisters Bake. Barbara and Dvora have known each other since 1995 so they had a lot to talk about. They have many interests in common. Over a lengthy afternoon tea Dvora discovered that Barbara and I have a similar sense of humour. The afternoon melted away and we discovered that it was dark when we looked out of the window.
Quarrier’s Village is a small settlement near Barbara’s home originally set up as an orphanage but based on the principle that every child should have a home. Large houses were constructed and “house parents” were employed to provide stability for 8-10 children in each residence. The village was the brainchild of philanthropist, William Quarrier, in the 19th century. Today the houses are in private ownership but a charity under the name of Quarriers continues its work in the village. Today the charity cares for disadvantaged children and disabled adults.
The colourful and relaxed café is run by three sisters serving deli lunches and cake although they will cater weddings and other occasions on request.
Dvora stayed the night. We had a late dinner because we had such a late afternoon refreshment. We did not sit up late as she was leaving the next morning. Barbara drove her to the airport then went to the office.
Later in the day I took the train into town then the subway to Shields Road where I met Maureen Sier. She is working for Interfaith Scotland and had invited me to an evening of dialogue with a small group of Shi’a Muslims. A small but diverse group attended including four Muslims, four Baha’is and one Christian spiritualist. Two Muslims and two Baha’is explained the significant elements of the lives and service of the Founders of their respective faiths. There was an atmosphere of great cordiality and I was very touched to hear the stories. It was such a happy evening that I would love to see something similar in New Zealand. I did not have much time to speak to Maureen as Barbara arrived to pick me up. There will be another opportunity soon.
On 18 December Barbara and I went out for dinner at the Fox and Hounds with Jean Cook. The Fox and Hounds is the local pub that has recently reopened after a long period in the doldrums. I am not sure of the reason it was closed but I gather that the place was becoming unruly and the publican lost his license as a result. The Fox and Hounds is in Houston, a small town west of Langbank but close enough for it to be Barbara’s local. The white washed building is right on the road as is usual here but there is a small carpark beside it. When we went in by the front door there was a large L shaped room with a cheerful fire and people reading newspapers and supervising a couple of well behaved dogs.
We were ushered past a staircase leading to the upper floor into a large back room where the restaurant was not very full. According to Jean, the present restaurant was formerly the bar and the upstairs was a gathering place for the younger folks. We had a lovely meal. I chose the lamb hotpot. The meal came in 3 small casserole dishes on a plate. The casserole dishes were small versions of my Le Creuset casserole pot. One of these small pots contained creamy mashed potatoes. Another held carrots and courgettes and the third contained the delicious lamb in a rich gravy. Exactly the right comfort food for winter.
The pub had a warm and inviting atmosphere. The waiting staff were very young and appeared to be rather nervous. Perhaps they were in training. They looked young enough to be still at school. Our waiter checked with us several times that all was to our satisfaction and we had a most delightful evening. I am keen to go back there again.
After the meal Barbara and I followed Jean upstairs to see the facilities for a different clientele. There was loud music but it could not be heard in the restaurant. There was a large screen showing a football game and people were milling about in a convivial way. There was a security guard on the stairs but he did not look as though he had much to do as all the patrons were good humoured.
We had coffee at Jean’s place and admired her Christmas Tree. I met her cats and eventually her husband (Alan) who had been at work.
Scotland has a tradition of Christmas Pantomime. Various organisations have an entertainment of this kind consisting of traditional and modern elements. The performance is usually based on a fairy story with music, topical jokes and slapstick comedy sufficient to entertain the whole family. We went to a panto at the Tron Theatre where surprisingly there were not many children in the audience. We sat next to four young women who wore illuminated sagittal crests and flashing trilby hats. Nearby was a man in a jersey with the face of Santa Claus covering the front from neck to waist. Children waved light sticks and the audience was decked out in spangles. This pantomime was called “Sleeping Betty” and was loosely based on the story of Sleeping Beauty with the usual characters of a beautiful but distressed princess, a handsome prince to rescue her from the machinations of evil oppressors aided by magical personages of one kind or another. An essential character is the Dame usually played by a man to great comedic effect. This production, narrated by Hamish the Hamster, speaking in a broad Glaswegian accent, had both a Fairy Godfather wearing a loud tartan suit and a Fairy Godmother played by the same man so the two characters could not be on stage at the same time. A much appreciated addition was a very tall young man shaped like a beanpole wearing a “wet look” scarlet leotard and a mask with horns playing the role of the wicked fairy’s nasty cat. There were cheers for the hero and boos for the wicked fairy (and the cat) and by the end of the evening I felt as though I had been on the stage too.
The Winter Solstice occurred at 4.48 UT on 22 December and to mark the longest night we entertained Elle, Barbara’s friend from Lochwinnock, with a candlelight dinner. That night Barbara lit all the candles and the house glowed with soft light. We talked about the highlights of the year that is ending and our plans for 2016. Elle and Barbara have been celebrating the winter solstice each year for a while now. It was a delightful evening and an excellent excuse for a non Christmas get together.
Barbara went into her office for the last time this year on 23 December. The office was to close at 3pm and she had plenty to do. I travelled into town with her and went to see the latest James Bond movie Which had the obligatory chase scene and lots of improbably twists and turns in the plot. I always find this sort of movie quite amusing. This one was no exception. After the movie I took the subway to Kelvinbridge and met Maureen for a late lunch. Nick came to join us and we had a happy catch up until Maureen had to go to the dentist. Barbara arrived then Maureen came back and we had a happy reunion. I am hoping that Nick and Maureen will visit me in Thames in March.
Suddenly it was Christmas Eve. Barbara made an Apple Dapple cake and a tray of hors d’ouvres that we along to dinner at the home of Mark and Marlina (members of Barbara’s now defunct book group). Mark’s parents were also present. Mark and Marlina are living just around the corner from where Barbara had a flat in Shawlands. His parents live in Malta but were in Scotland for Christmas. We had a very convivial evening with excellent food and great company. We pulled crackers and wore the elf hats and other elven paraphernalia that came with the crackers. We shared the weak jokes and puzzles from the crackers. Over a four course dinner we got to know each other with laughter and story telling.
After dinner Barbara and I went to Paisley Abbey for the carol service. The rain came down steadily and I felt cold despite my coat and hat. Sadly there was no choir and the congregation sang in thin and quavery voices. There were readings and a short talk by the vicar. A swaddled doll representing the newborn Jesus was placed in the crib close to midnight. Members of the congregation shook hands and wished each other well and it was time to go out into the night again.
I still think of Christmas as a summer festival. It should be a warm and preferably sunny day when we consume mountains of strawberries and salad. Visits to the beach and plenty of time for relaxation are further desirable features. The excesses of feasting are the start of the holidays of sunshine when we read books and share the best ones with interested friends. Ideally there should be no serious thought about anything except how to use up the Christmas Day leftovers.
In Scotland things are not the same. Barbara and I had a slow start to the morning when it was dull and cool outside. Eventually we gathered up the pavlova that Barbara had prepared along with some decorative extras and set off for Edinburgh where we spent a couple of days with Olwyn.
Pavlova is a gooey sweet dish made of egg whites beaten with sugar then baked slowly in a cool oven. It is supposed to have a crispy crust and a centre like marshmallow. In New Zealand it is a favoured summer dish decorated with whipped cream and strawberries and kiwifruit as well as passionfruit but in Scotland these fruits are out of season in winter. Barbara went to a local kitchen shop to buy a silicon baking sheet, the recommended surface for baking pavlova as well as all manner of biscuits and macarons. She told the sales assistant of the plan to serve a pav for Christmas and the woman became quite excited saying that she loved pavlova and made it herself as often as possible. This led to a discussion about how to decorate a winter pav. The sales assistant recommended covering the Pav with spiced baked apple and serving it with pouring cream. After some discussion Barbara and I agreed that a dried fruit salad (apricots, prunes, raisins moistened with rosewater and spiced with cinnamon) along with pouring cream would fit the bill.
We enjoyed a celebratory Christmas dinner of rib roast of beef with Yorkshire pudding and vegetables. The pavlova was a great success and a jolly good time was had. Originally it was planned for Olwyn to travel to Cuba with us but as things turned out she was not able to get enough time off work. She had found a couple of interesting books about Cuba … “The Island that Dared: Journeys in Cuba” by Dervla Murray for Barbara and “Waiting for Snow in Havana: Confessions of a Cuban Boyhood” by Carlos Eire for me. These excellent choices kept us entertained over the following weeks. We subsequently took them to Cuba and read as we travelled from place to place adding to our knowledge as we went.
In Edinburgh the days were cool but we were able to walk into town to visit the National Museum of Scotland. We had hoped to see an exhibition of ceramics but the staff were on strike. We had lunch instead in a glass roofed gallery. We shopped and bought shoes at sale price and looked at other shops. On another day we took the bus to visit the National Gallery exhibition of some paintings by Arthur Melville.
Barbara first raised the idea of visiting Cuba over a year ago. She likes to get away from the cold and dark of Glasgow for a few weeks each winter and Cuba has the great advantage of being warm. Since the thawing of the relationship between Cuba and USA from 2014 there has been an increase in the opportunities for tourism although it seems that Canadians have been visiting for years. I started to make some enquiries about visas and travel routes and prices. Eventually Barbara booked us on a Thomas Cook excursion fare for 15 days and I began a search for places to stay.
By chance I saw a travel article in the “New Zealand Herald” about visiting Cuba including an advertisement for a company called Locally Sourced Tours with a NZ address. That was the start of a three way correspondence leading to a decision to take a 15 day tour arranged by that company in Cuba. There were some difficulties as Barbara’s booking with Thomas Cook landed us at Holguin on 29 December, about 750 miles from the start of the tour in Havana. Moreover we arrived in Holguin after the tour had started so we had to take an internal flight to Havana where we stayed overnight then a taxi ordered by the company took us to join our tour which by the time of our arrival had reached Trinidad. We missed Cienfuegos, Bay of Pigs and Santa Clara rather to my disappointment.
When we reached our accommodation that first night in Havana we fell into bed without much conversation with our host. We agreed to have breakfast at 9am and at 8.15 there was a knock at our door to tell us that the taxi had arrived. I was not even dressed so we had to act fast. It turned out that our hosts had a letter from the company explaining the arrangements for picking us up. The letter should have been handed over to us upon arrival but in its absence we made different arrangements. As a result we were later than expected in joining our tour companions.
Locally Sourced Tours is committed to using local homestay accommodation (known as “Casas Particulares”) for group tours. This gave us a way of meeting local people and seeing how people live in different parts of Cuba. Casas are varied in location as well as in size and facilities just as would be expected in homes anywhere in the world. The homes were comfortable and we received a lot of attention from our hosts despite the difficulties of communication. We had almost no Spanish and many hosts had little English but we managed with humour and patience.
Our tour guide was a young Cuban of Jamaican parentage. He had excellent English and we soon learned that he was a trained surgeon married to a doctor with a young daughter aged two years. It is a sad commentary about the Cuban economy that he could not earn enough to support his family in the style that he wished on his state salary as a surgeon. His work as a tour guide is better paid. Pedro was good company and very knowledgeable about Cuba and its history. Over the days of the tour we became friends and I hope we will keep in contact.
Cuba’s turbulent history could be seen at every turn and there were plenty of stories told by Pedro and picked up from places along the way. After Christopher Columbus “discovered” Cuba in 1492 he wrote in his diary that the indigenous people were well nourished and peaceable. They cultivated gardens and appeared to have a sophisticated social system. Soon after the missionaries arrived and the conquistadors set up the towns of Havana, Trinidad, Baracoa, Bayamo, Camaguey, Santiago de Cuba and Sancti Spiritus to bring the new colony under strong central rule. The local people rebelled and their leader the feisty Hatuey was burned at stake as a warning to any with similar ideas. Local people were forced to work for Spanish landowners. Slaves were imported from Africa and fields of sugar cane were cultivated. Coffee was also grown when French planters arrived after the bloody slave revolt in Haiti in 1791.
Spanish rule continued for 200 years apart from a brief period in 1762 when Britain occupied Cuba eventually exchanging it for Florida. In the 1860s some landowners living around Bayamo began plotting revolution to throw off the Spanish yoke. The fuse was lit on 10 October 1868 when Carlos Manuel de Cespedes called for the abolition of slavery and independence. He quickly raised an army of 1500 men and took Bayamo. A lengthy deadlock followed. Cespedes was killed in battle in 1874. Other leaders in the First War of Independence were Antonio Maceo and Maximo Gomez but despite a prolonged struggle and heavy losses as well as the economic disruption caused by the destruction of the sugar crop, the rebels lacked a sufficiently dynamic political leader and the bid failed.
In April 1895 Maceo and Gomez returned with Jose Marti for a further attempt to win independence. Marti died in battle at Dos Rios on 19 May 1895. Had he lived he would probably have become Cuba’s first president. After his death he became a hero and martyr whose example inspired generations of Cubans. Maceo was killed in battle south of Havana on 7 December 1896.
The USA sent a battleship “Maine” to intervene in the ruinous warfare but the ship exploded mysteriously in Havana Harbour on 15 February 1898 with the loss of 266 US sailors. The US occupied Cuba for four years until the island won nominal independence on 20 May 1902. Despite three years of blood sweat and tears during the Spanish-Cuban-American war, no Cuban representatives were invited to participate in the negotiations for the peace treaty in Paris in 1898. The treaty promised independence with conditions contained in the infamous Platt Amendment that gave the US the right to intervene militarily in Cuba whenever it saw fit. The US was also able to secure for itself a naval base in Guantanamo Bay in order to protect its interests in the Panama Canal region. The legislation was passed by Congress despite vigorous opposition in Cuba and the bitter feuds and other repercussions continue to this day.
Cuban attempts to establish democracy were hampered by the criminal activities of the mafia and then by the corruption and inefficiency of the government. Eventually a military coup led by Fulgencio Batista on 10 March 1952 seized power and established a repressive regime that was quickly recognised by the US. Batista made a deal with the Mafia promising them freedom to operate in Cuba in return for a share of the profits.
After the coup a revolutionary circle formed in Havana around Fidel Castro, a young lawyer with a gift for oratory. He led an abortive attack on the army barracks at Moncada in Santiago de Cuba on 26 July 1956. Of the 119 conspirators, 64 were rounded up by Batista’s troops and tortured before execution. Fidel Castro was captured and imprisoned. He defended himself in court giving an eloquent speech that later became a comprehensive political manifesto under the title “History Will Absolve Me”. In February 1955 Batista won the presidency in what was widely considered a corrupt and fraudulent electoral process. Attempting to curry favour with the growing internal opposition he agreed to the release of political prisoners including Fidel Castro. Believing that he was about to be assassinated Castro fled to Mexico leaving Frank Pais in charge of the resistance known as the 26th July Movement.
In Mexico City Castro gathered support from Camilo Cienfuegos and Ernesto “Che” Guevara. They set sail for Cuba on 25 November 1956 aboard an old leisure yacht called “Granma”. After a difficult voyage they arrived later than expected and were routed by Batista’s soldiers. The remnant re assembled in the Sierra Maestra where the plotting continued. There were numerous skirmished until May 1958 when Batista sent an army of 10,000 into the hills to eliminate Castro. During this stage of the war Che Guevara sealed the victory of the Revolution by derailing an armoured train in Santa Clara. Batista fled the country in a private plane on 1 January 1959 taking Cuba’s financial reserve and disappeared.
Since the Revolution there have been many more crises notably the Bay of Pigs fiasco and the long relationship between Cuba and USSR ending only in 1991 with the disintegration of the Soviet Union. The loss of Soviet support caused the Cuban economy to virtually collapse. It shrank by as much as 60% and Pedro said of that time that the average Cuban lost one third of his or her body weight. Known as the Special Period, characterised by communal belt tightening, the worst years (1991-4) were followed by a slow recovery. The economy began to come back to life after Cuba forged closer ties with Venezuela (and its oil) in the early 2000s.
The long standing trade embargo imposed by the US seems to be thawing now. In July 2006 Fidel Castro suffered prolonged ill health and handed the reins of government to his younger brother, Raul. Since then a number of economic reforms have been introduced allowing ordinary Cubans access to many consumer items taken for granted in the West such as mobile phones and electronic goods. In October 2011 car sales were legalised and Cubans were allowed to buy and sell their homes for the first time in 50 years. Furthermore the long standing restrictions on international travel for Cubans are being relaxed. Although Cuba has not yet been drawn into Western style capitalism there are now more people working in the private sector and I expect that there will soon be an established middle class. I hope that Cubans will be happy with the far reaching consequences of such changes.
We caught up with the rest of our tour party on Day Three of the tour over lunch in Trinidad. The taxi driver dropped us at the casa at Antonio Maceo Street. Our hosts were Silvia and Omar who gave us the use of the whole upper story of their home. We did not have much time to look around as we were whisked off to lunch to meet the others. There were six in the party including Sheryl, a Kiwi from Wellington, Ian and Andrea, a couple from Bedford near London, and Olivia an American now living in London. It was a hot sticky day and after a leisurely meal we wandered around the cobbled streets admiring the lovely old Spanish colonial buildings painted in different colours.
Trinidad was founded in 1514 by Diego Velazquez. Time has stood still here since the first War of Independence in 1850. Despite wars and a Revolution the town is well preserved and was declared a UNESCO World heritage site in 1988. It was like walking around a museum. The music was great.
We saw the museum and an art gallery with an attractive courtyard. After a salsa lesson in the evening and dinner we wandered home past places where Cuban bands were playing. One building with a tower allowed people to climb up for the view of the town. The steps were very steep and I decided to stay at a lower level in order to avoid the crush.
On our second day in Trinidad we went out of town to see the Valle de los Ingenios where sugar cane was grown in great abundance in earlier times. We visited the estate purchased in 1895 by Pedro Iznaga who became rich by trafficking in slaves. The big house occupied by Iznaga and his family is being restored but it was the horrifying squalor of the slave quarters that caught my attention. Although I have read about the brutality of slavery I was still shocked by the conditions. The process of extracting the sugar from the cane was explained and we were able to ask questions about those days.
We admired the beautiful countryside as we moved on to Sancti Spiritu where there were local handicrafts to be inspected. There was a large tourist centre where I bought postcards. A pig was being roasted on a spit. Our party spread out to look at everything and the time flew by until we realised that Pedro had disappeared. Eventually we found him after we had been waiting in a shady spot at the roadside.
That afternoon Barbara and I sat on the steps of the Plaza Mayor in the shade listening to the local musicians and enjoying a mojito. This was just a prelude to the New Year’s Eve concert later that night when the place was heaving with people having a good time under the starry skies.
Where ever we went there were bands playing traditional music. I was familiar with the Cuban style through the efforts of Ry Cooder to introduce the Buena Vista Social Club to the world. My favourite song is “Chan Chan” written by Compay Segundo in 1987. He said of the song that he did not write it but dreamed it. The lyrics centre around two characters – Juanica and Chan Chan - who are building a house. They go to the beach to collect sand. They sieve the sand and as she shakes the sieve Juanica also shakes herself causing Chan Chan to become excited. The song has a chorus that refers to various towns in the Holguin province. Great song. At one restaurant Pedro called the band over to play it to me much to my delight.
On New Year’s Day we went to the beach where we sat under coconut palms and swam in the clear water. Playa Ancon is said to be the best beach but it was the only one that I saw and it was beautiful. There was not much happening so we enjoyed the quiet and the balmy breezes for most of the day.
Camaguey is a cultural centre with marvellous architecture. There are winding narrow streets purposely built like a maze to confuse the pirates. There are some beautiful churches in the Cuban baroque style and a well preserved town centre that was the ninth Cuban locality to become a UNESCO World Heritage site in 2008. We all stayed together in a hostel located a few steps from the square. We walked to see places of interest and one day took rides in bicycle rickshaws.
Camaguey is a relatively wealthy and sophisticated town with an active performing arts centre. Sadly we visited at the wrong time of the year for the ballet but there were plenty of music and visual arts venues. This city is the bastion of the Catholic Church and the inhabitants are popularly known to other Cubans as “agramontinos”. The name refers to a local hero of the first war of Independence, Ignacio Agramonte, one of the authors of the Guaimaro Constitution and courageous leader of Cuba’s finest cavalry brigade. An equestrian statue of Agramonte stands in a square surrounded by cafes and a night club where we listened to Cuban music all evening.
In front of a two towered historical church in Plaza del Carmen were a number of bronzes made by a local female artist, Martha Jiminez Perez. She is a painter, sculptress and ceramicist. She holds the UNESCO prize for “the best masterwork collections” since 1997. She has an international reputation and her works may be found in fine art galleries in Canada, Chile, Mexico, France and USA. Late in the afternoon I went back to her workshop and bought a limited edition print titled “The Three Graces”. I am looking forward to displaying it in my home. Adjacent to Plaza del Carmen there is a primary school with a lively mural pained on the palyground wall..
As before we ate out at night. Pedro took us to Plaza Juan de Dios in the artists' quarter where we admired handicrafts and visited art galleries. We sat outside to have dinner next to an historic church constructed in Moorish influenced baroque style. The building was constructed in 1728 and has been beautifully resored. It became a national monument in 1978. The colourful buildings around the plaza made a lively backdrop for a meal under the stars.
We travelled further east in an airconditioned taxi to the city of Santiago de Cuba. The city is located in the mountainous region of “Oriente”. There was lush vegetation that looked very restful but it was so hot that when we stopped to buy the local oranges and to stretch our legs, I was glad to get back into the car.
Santiago is the second largest city in Cuba and it has a totally different atmosphere to anywhere else. It was the original capital of Cuba and the place where Fidel Castro chose to launch a nationalist Revolution. I was aware of the diversity of the people on the streets and the special energy created by the Caribbean influenced music that floated from many doorways. This city is closer to Haiti and the Dominican Republic than Havana.
Most of our party stayed with Iliana in a spacious home with a separate entrance for guests. The place was very comfortable but did not have the family atmosphere that we enjoyed so much in Trinidad. There was a marvellous view from the roof towards the harbour. As usual Pedro knew the good places to eat after we had taken a short walk to orient ourselves.
We sat in the Parque Cespedes to watch the world go by. Families with children playing, old ladies gossiping on park benches, lovers meeting, musicians heading towards the nearby Casa de la Trova where we spent an evening enjoying the music and the salsa dancing … it was all happening in this iconic square. There was a large bronze bust of Carlos Manuel de Cespedes who kick started Cuban independence in 1868. Parque Cespedes is also a treasure chest of colonial architecture apart from the awful modern bank building. On the eastern side stands the former San Carlos Club, a gathering place for wealthy citizens before the Revolution. Next door is the Hotel Casa Granda where today’s tourists sit on the terrace to watch the goings on in the Parque. In 1914 the novelist Graham Greene sat in the Terrace Bar while he awaited inspiration. We had a meal there one night.
On the northern side of Parque Cespedes is the neo classical Ayuntamiento erected in the 1950s using a design from 1783. The building was once the site of the office of the Mayor. Fidel Castro appeared on the balcony on the night of 2 January 1959 to announce the success of the Revolution. Nearby stands Casa de Diego Velazquez, now the oldest house still standing in Cuba. It was built in 1522 as the official residence of the first governor of Cuba. It was restored in the 1960s and has an Andalusian style façade with fine wooden lattice windows. In 1970 it began a new life as the Museo de Ambiente Historico Cubano.
Overlooking the Parque is the splendid Catedral de Nuestra Senora de la Asuncion. The cathedral was extensively renovated for the 500th anniversary of Santiago in 2015 although the present building is nowhere near that age. There has been a cathedral on this site since the founding of the city in the 1520s but due to the activities of pirates, earthquakes and dodgy architects at least three earlier buildings have been demolished. The present cathedral has two neoclassical towers. Although it dates from 1922 the remains of the first colonial governor, Diego Velazquez, are still buried under the cathedral. Inside the building there were beautiful ceiling frescoes as well as hand carved choir stalls. It was very lovely.
We did not see the museum adjacent to the cathedral nor did we visit the Bacardi Museum as Barbara and I expected to see something similar in Havana. Instead we admired the vintage cars and walked down to the harbour looking for some shopping.
We took a taxi ride to see the art deco Cuartel Moncada. This was once the military barracks where the first shots of the Revolution were fired in 1953. The bullet holes are still to be seen. Today the building is a school (26 July School) where classes are taught while tourists wander to and fro. At the rear of the school is a preserved section that houses an interesting and poignant museum dedicated to the underground struggle against Batista in the 1950s. Alongside a model of the Granma yacht (it looked more like a motor boat to me) there were exhibits about torture and imprisonment and photos of those who died or disappeared in the struggle.
We visited the Castillo de San Pedro de la Roca del Morro. The castle was built as a fortification against pirates atop a 60m high promontory at the entrance to Santiago harbour about 10 km south west of the city. The breath taking views of the coastline and the Sierra Maestra were very special. The road from the carpark to the castle was packed with stalls where local people were selling handicrafts. Some of them were beautiful but I really could not carry anything extra.
The people of Santiago supported the Revolution so it is not surprising to find a huge equestrian statue of local hero Antonio Maceo surrounded by 23 raised machetes. Revolution Square is strategically placed at the junction of two sweeping avenues. A huge mound has been built to display the statue and the whole effect is very imposing.
We travelled along the Autopista where we saw all kinds of traffic from horse or ox drawn carts to classic cars to Ladas (relics of the close economic ties with USSR) to motorbikes of various kinds. We eventually came to Guantanamo, a city that is famous for all the wrong reasons. We did not linger as there was no time. The area was settled in 1819 when French planters evicted from Haiti founded the town of Santa Catalina del Saltadero del Guaso. Its name was changed in 1843 to Guantanamo and in 1903 the US Navy took up residence in the bay next door. There has been no peace here since then.
We passed the well guarded entrance to the naval base and carried on through the hills. We stopped at a lookout point called Ranchon La Gobernador. There was a simple bar-restaurant and a lookout tower where a bi lingual guide handed out strong binoculars and helped the tourists pick out the main features of the US base. It was all so far off that I could not distinguish much but I did understand that the US navy prevents the Cuban people from using the harbour. Only local fishermen can harvest the area. Given the security surrounding the US presence I thought it was quite amusing to have tourists examining the area using powerful binoculars.
We spent the next few days in Baracoa, Cuba’s first colonial capital, set in a lush tropical garden of palm, cacao and banana trees. Hibiscus flowers were abundant. There were even flowers on the bed at the casa where we stayed with Rosy and Ivan. They were the loveliest people. A French Canadian couple were also staying at this casa so I had a chance to practise my French which is getting very rusty. The house was close enough to smell the sea but we could not actually see it from the casa.
Baracoa was founded in 1511 by Diego Velazquez de Cuellar. It became the Cuban equivalent of Siberia where revolutionaries were held as prisoners. In the early 19th century French planters crossed the 70 km wide Windward Passage from Haiti and began to cultivate coconut, cocoa and coffee in the mountains. Baracoa prospered in relative isolation until the 1960s when a modern road was opened.
We spent a day taking an excursion along the coast to Boca de Yumuri at the mouth of the Yumuri River. There are high cliffs along the river bank and the lovely water flows quite slowly. We took a boat ride up the river to a swimming place where we splashed around and drank coconut milk sold by a vendor who cut open the delicious fruit so that we could scoop out the flesh. We could not persuade Pedro to come swimming. He sat on the sand with Adrian another local man. It was very difficult to leave the river.
We were told the stories about the indigenous population leaping to their deaths from the cliff tops rather than be captured by slavers. We passed the German Tunnel named for a farming family who lived in the area. The road passes under a natural arch covered with trees and foliage. We visited a cocoa farm and sampled the wares. It was an opportunity to buy pots of locally made cocoa butter.
Barbara and Sheryl and I went on a hike to Yunque Mountain but I was not fit enough to go very far. We had to wade over the Duaba River and start climbing a very steep path. I sat in the shade for a few hours to wait for the party to return. Barbara found it a hard way to go so I am sure that I would have been a liability.
We wandered around the town to see the Catedral de Nuestra Senora de la Asuncion. There has been a building on this site since the 16th century though the present one dates from 1833. It has been lovingly restored using primarily Italian money. This church houses the priceless Cruz de la Parra, the only survivor of 29 crosses erected by Columbus on his first voyage to Cuba in 1492. The cross dates from the late 1400s as authenticated by carbon dating. The cross was made of indigenous Cuban timber thus disproving the legend that Columbus brought the cross from Europe.
Facing the cathedral is a bust of Hatuey, a rebellious Indian leader who was burned at stake in 1512 after refusing to convert to Catholicism. Baracoa has a triangular Plaza Independencia where we admired art galleries and watched the world go by.
North west of Baracoa past the airport there are beaches and a chocolate factory opened by Che Guevara in 1963. Also in the vicinity is a factory making cucurucho a local sweet treat. We did not visit the factory but we sampled the products. They were too sweet for me.
On the last night together in Baracoa Ivan and Rosy prepared a BBQ dinner with a whole fish, lots of chicken pieces and roast pork along with salads and watermelon to finish. Night fell as we sat at the table and talked and laughed together. It was a most splendid occasion.
Pedro and the rest of the party headed back to Havana but Barbara and I stayed an extra day as we left it too late to book a seat on the same plane. We spent the extra day at the beach which was absolutely marvellous. There was white sand and low hanging coconut trees. We read books and swam all day. An ox car brought coconuts to eat and we used a lot of sun block cream.
The following day it was time for us to leave as well but there was a very long delay before our plane arrived. There was nothing to be done but to sit in the shade and wait and wait and wait. It had been planned for us to visit the cigar factory in Havana but we arrived so late that this was impossible. It was dark when we made it to our hotel and the taxi driver had trouble finding the place. The unmarked entrance had a rather dark lobby with a rickety lift which took us to the 3rd floor where we entered another world. We knocked and went into a place with a long door lined corridor. The lounge and dining areas were beautifully furnished with quality items. A chandelier twinkled above our heads and the shutters opened on to a marvellous view of the Malecon. It was even better in the day light.
Pedro had been worried about us and took us out for a meal followed by a stroll past some of the beautiful buildings of Havana. Although it was not quite what we had expected it was great to see the city at night. The following day it was raining as we had breakfast under the high ceiling of the dining room. We decided to gamble on having enough time between the rain showers to take a ride in a classic car. We were lucky to squeeze in a short trip to see some of the Old City. We were able to make a short visit to the famous Hotel Nacional. We walked along narrow streets for some of the way. In a back street we saw several dogs wearing ID cards. A local artist had made the ID cards for the animals as a pointed comment about the requirement that all Cubans should be wearing ID cards.
We enjoyed a mojito at Floradita’s where the bronze statue of Ernest Hemingway still props up the bar and a band played Chan Chan at my request. We ended up at another hotel later in the afternoon for a snack and a chance to say goodbye to Pedro who left us in a taxi to go back to our hotel.
I am aware that we did not have enough time to see Havana properly and that is definitely on my agenda for a return trip. I missed the museums, forts, theatres and the music. I think three days would be the minimum for this rollicking city.
That afternoon we flew to Holguin for our last hours in Cuba. Like so many other places Holguin is full of contrasts. Christopher Columbus docked near Gibara in Holguin province in 1492 after his voyage across the ocean blue. The province became an important sugar growing area in the 19th century when much of the land was bought and cleared of forest by the US owned United Fruit Company. Formerly part of Oriente territory, Holguin became a province in its own right in 1975. Fulgencio Batista and Fidel Castro were both reared here as were Reinaldo Arenas and Guillermo Infante. The environmental degradation around Moa’s nickel mines contrasts with the pine covered mountains of Sierra Cristal. Holguin is the fourth largest city in Cuba but it is often by passed by tourists as there are no fancy hotels or revitalised colonial buildings. The city has cultivated an international reputation as a drug rehabilitation centre. Argentine soccer star Diego Maradona spent time at a rehab facility in Holguin in 2000. He met Fidel Castro and the two became firm friends. In 2008 Holguin was lashed by Hurricane Ike and in 2015 Pope Francis celebrated a huge open air mass in the city.
We stayed at the casa of Sandra and Oscar which was very comfortable. We went walking to see two of the main squares in Holguin. We strolled through a handicraft market and watched the world go by as we had a last meal before heading to the airport. There was not a lot of time to see much so we contented ourselves with looking at the statues in the squares that we were able to find.
We wandered around the Parque Calixto Garcia with a statue of General Garcia erected in 1912. We passed by the Catedral de San Isodoro and looked around the Museo de Historia Provincial. When it could not be delayed any longer we returned to the airport to begin the tedious process of waiting around before our flight.
On my last weekend in Scotland Barbara had to attend a meeting in York so I went along to see the countryside. It was dull as we set out in the early morning with snow on the hills and beside the road. The countryside looked lifeless but later in the weekend I learned that this is not always true.
There had been floods in York so I was interested to look at the River Ouse. It was not actually overflowing its banks but I could see where the flood waters had been and everything looked damp and cold. I found a second hand bookshop and purchase a copy of “Lord of the Rings“ for Pedro. It was not a good day for sightseeing as it was too cold to walk around the streets. I spent some time in the Minster shop and failed to get a seat in either of the Betty’s restaurants. Eventually I met up with Barbara for a meal at the comfortable hotel that she had chosen.
We headed home on the Sunday morning passing through Harrowgate where we were able to visit the iconic Betty’s tea shop. The beautiful store in Harrowgate was opened in 1962 but I gather that the family business has been operating for considerably longer. Its fame has spread throughout Yorkshire and there are branch shops selling the same delights (such a Yorkshire fruit cake and shortbread, macaroons as well as the famous fat rascals) in a number of places. I bought some goodies in the shop and we drank tea and consumed fat rascals in the café. Visiting the original shop was much more fun than being crowded into a corner in one of the cafes in York.
The pretty town was shrouded in snow and even the flower gardens in the main square were struggling to show some colour. There was plenty of snow on the ground all the way home. Late in the day we left the main road to investigate a sign that announced “The Best View in the World” and just as the sun was sinking we found ourselves at an elevated rest spot with a view toward the Eildon Hills. It was Sir Walter Scott who announced that this was the best view in the world. The noticeboard at the resting place indicated that he usually travelled by this route to and from Scotland because he loved the view so much.
There are three hills of volcanic origin and they are visible for miles around. There is archaelogical evidence of a hillfort in the Bronze Age as well as a substantial Roman Fort called Trimontium. There are many local legends about the hills which today are a treasure trove not only for prehistorians but also for botanists and ornithologists.
A week of warm sunny weather should have been enough to drive away the winter blues but sadly I caught a cold as I returned to the New Zealand winter so it has taken a while to record the visit.
I was met at the airport by Ellen and Sheldon Ramer and we spent quality time together over the next few days. I stayed in their home for the first night and thereafter at the Muri Beach Resort near the Baha’I Centre. Muri Beach Resort is located next door to a luxurious new resort called Nautilus and since the two facilities are owned by the same people I had breakfast at Nautilus each day. Both places are located right on the beach at Muri Lagoon but the small fale that I occupied did not look towards the sea. It was very comfortable with its own kitchen so I could have self catered had I been so inclined.
I was not inclined to shop or cook for myself so each day after breakfast I walked around to the Ramer residence and we went visiting the other members of the Baha’I community.
We called on Jane Lamb who had just returned from holidaying with her sister in Canada. Jane twisted her ankle during a kayaking trip and was hobbling around using a walking stick for support. She was cheerful and may come to NZ in our summer.
I spent a few hours visiting Nikki Griffin at her home on the hill overlooking Muri Lagoon. She retired from her teaching career at the end of the 2015 academic year but she has such love for Cook Islands that she has no plans to return to NZ on a permanent basis. She flew to New Zealand on the same plane as me and I was hoping to invite her to visit Thames but she was busy with family and some relief teaching at her old school at Melville High School in Hamilton. Nikki is doing some private tutoring in Rarotonga so she was not able to stay long in NZ.
One evening the Ramers and I were invited to dinner at the home of Gwen Welland. Jane was also there. Gwen’s home is close to the place where I was staying with splendid views across the lagoon. We had a lovely evening with stories of the old days and catching up on each other’s news. Although I visited Rarotonga at least annually for a period of 10 years from about 1995 to 2005, I did not often catch up with Gwen as she was always so busy so we had a lot to say to each other.
I met some of the new Baha’is and had an indepth discussion with Marie Francis, a lawyer who works with a prisoner rehabilitation trust. She invited me to attend the unveiling of a mural painted at the local prison by some of the inmates under the supervision of an art therapist. I was picked up by Marie’s mother, Lynnsay, and taken to the prison for this special occasion attended by various dignitaries along with the families of the inmates. The prisoners were all allowed to sit outside the walls to listen to the remarks of the Minister for Justice and the prison superintendant. It was a happy occasion and I was full of admiration for the mural showing a winged man wearing a tormented expression as he was enmeshed in the coils of a red dragon. A green dragon representing man’s higher nature was depicted above the man giving the whole mural a hopeful aspect. I had a great discussion with Lynnsay about the role of women in Pacific Island societies.
On another occasion the Ramers took me to visit Parveneh and Khosro Payman who are long term residents of Rarotonga. The Paymans are true pioneers and an inspiring example of people who have continued to serve the community despite health difficulties and economic issues. They are both becoming frail but their spirits are strong.
A specially happy moment came when I met Haylee Ala'i and her new husband, Nadeem Navidi, at the place where I was staying. I had not seen Haylee for many years as when she and her family moved to Perth we lost contact. Haylee and Nav are keen to stay permanently in Cook Islands. She is studying to become a nurse and he is a trainee teacher and I think they would be ideal members of any Baha'i community. When I met them they were expecting Haylee's mother to arrive the day that I was leaving to return to NZ. We arranged to have breakfast together at the Market. We had only a short time together but it was enough for a quality catch up.
Most evenings we ate out at different restaurants and this gave me opportunities to meet other members of the Baha’I community as well as friends of the Ramers who they have mentioned in various letters over the years.
I would love to go back to Rarotonga again and next time I need to be there over a weekend so that I can attend events at the Baha’I Centre. I was delighted to inspect the newly refurbished Baha’I Centre. It has been repainted and looks clean and fresh. The new kitchen makes an important contribution to the ambience. There is a lovely new mural in the main meeting room created by the same art therapist as helped with the prison mural. There is even a newly refurbished flat for travelling teachers. There is about another 20 years to run on the lease of the Baha’I Centre so it has been a good investment to redecorate the place now.
Barbara arrived on 10 August for a month of sabbatical leave in New Zealand. She was very busy making presentations at three different universities and facilitating workshops as well as meeting with her professional colleagues to discuss future collaborative activities. My comments here are about the time we spent together as she was working for a lot of the time.
I picked her up at Auckland Airport and we went immediately to see her friend, Marilyn Smith who was house sitting for her brother on Redoubt Road. I had never been to that area so far along Redoubt Road. I was able to enjoy an excellent and unusual view of Auckland from the house. The house stood in a part of Redoubt Road that was actually closer to Papakura than Manukau so when we set off we turned to the south along the road less travelled. We ended up in Clevedon and drove down the coast passing Orere Point and Kaiaua to enjoy the scenery.
We were able to relax at my home until the weekend when we drove north to Kerikeri stopping at the Smashed Pipi Gallery at Mangawhai to buy presents for Barbara to take on the next stage of her journey. I had never been to this gallery before but Barbara remembered buying items there a long time ago. I was impressed that the manager had been serving in the shop for many years and was able to comment about artists whose work she had sold over the years. We visited the market to try out local products and had a picnic on the beach before taking to the back road towards Waipu. I had never been that way before so there were a number of beaches to see.
The purpose of the trip was for me to give a Baha’I talk at Gina Garcia’s place. The talk went well and we stayed the night with Gina. We called to see Helen Norman and had a most interesting time examining her historic photos and sharing family history stories.
Back in Thames Barbara spent most mornings working on her presentations at three different universities. She flew down to Wellington on 17 August and I occupied myself at home for a few days until it was time to pick her up from Fiona and Neale in New Plymouth. This was the first of our family visits. Fiona has now retired from her teaching career so we were able to relax and talk until Neale arrived home with Barbara for a leisurely evening of catching up. Mark called around with his partner Zoe and her engaging little daughter, Lulu. Mark and his family introduced their new puppy who will be a lively addition to the family.
The following day we visited the just completed Len Lye Centre. This purpose built exhibition space is adjoining the older Govatt Brewster Gallery. It has the most beautiful exterior with an asymmetrical wall clad in shiny reflective material. Unfortunately the gallery was in the process of changing the exhibition on the day of our visit so we were only able to see one installation. But just one Len Lye art work is a revelation. After a coffee and a snack with Fiona and Neale we carried on towards Cambridge. We stopped at Mokau for a nostalgic lunch of whitebait fritters. Whitebait was a part of our childhood and the meal was a delicious experience enhanced by a generous salad. Later we stopped at Bosco’s in Te Kuiti for coffee and cake.
We stayed with Roger and Coyla where there were more family stories to share. After Roger left for work we went into Cambridge for breakfast then Coyla followed us out to the Zealong Tea Plantation where we sampled the tea before heading to Auckland on the next stage of Barbara’s adventures.
We met Barbara’s friend, Marilyn, in Manukau and drove together into town for a concert. The traffic was the worst I have ever seen it … we took 2 hours to drive 15 km. The concert was enjoyable but did not really make up for the traffic jam. The nest day Barbara and I went to the Bridgeway Cinema in Northcote to see the Metopera movie “Elektra” with Nina Stimme in the title role. She was simply wonderful and I was delighted. Barbara had seen the movie before as they are always screened in UK before being released in this distant corner of the world. It was definitely worth the wait and I will be sure to see any other performances by Stimme. There was a trailer for “Tristan und Isolde” which I will see in November at Bridgeway. Barbara has booked a seat to see a performance at the Met as she passes through New York. We lunched with Gretchen Kivell then I left Barbara in Manukau so that she could work at Auckland University for a few days.
Over the next few days we visited Mark and Bronwyn Stackpole to hear about their trip to the Olympic Games. Their daughter, Rose, was part of the Australian Synchronised Swimming Team. There were many stories to share even though the team did not do so well. We celebrated Barbara’s birthday with dinner at the home of Margaret Parker.
Barbara spent her last few days in Thames working on her next presentation. It was great to have her here despite her work pressures. I was sorry to see her leaving but her life is in Scotland now. On her last night we attended a 70th birthday party for Pam Coleman. It was several years since we had seen Pam but she and Barbara were just as friendly as ever. Connections with old friends are so important.
The purpose of the visit to Cape Town was to attend the reception of guests on 30 December after the wedding of Barbara’s colleague, Alia Weston to Michele Mastroeni. Barbara and I met in Cape Town on 21 December and spent the extra days as tourists.
We stayed at Blue Sky Cottage located at 7 Bellevue Street, Oranjezicht, Gardens. This address was located on the slopes on Table Mountain and as I lay in bed I was able to see the cable car going up and down. The cottages were actually a conversion of a tandem garage adjacent to an historic house originally occupied by the manager of the farm in this location. There is no farm nowadays. Our space was very compact but we were only there for sleeping. Our host was Johann who occupied the original house along with his cat called Beppe and a dog named Lily. Beppe called on us every day to ensure that we had everything that we needed. He also helped when it was time to pack up and leave.
After our long journeys we slept well until we were forced by hunger and thirst into a nearby café for breakfast. The cottage was conveniently located close to a small grocery store, a pizza restaurant and a bus stop. On our first day we took the African bus down town to the rental car office where after the usual formalities we took possession of a small car that we drove around to see the sights over the next few days.
We visited the Prins and Prins gemstone showroom and the interesting museum in the basement where I learned a lot more about how diamonds are forged over millions of years in the bowels of the earth. We drove out to Camp Bay where there were many people sunbathing and eating icecreams as they walked along the beach. There were no swimmers as I understand that the Atlantic is too cold for such activities. Only the brave will attempt it. The area reminded me of the Auckland Waterfront especially St Heliers.
We carried on to Hout Bay where the fishing fleet has its home. There were seals swimming in the clear shallow water and a man was encouraging them to jump out of the water to take the fish that he was holding out. We had a drink in the nautical restaurant by the water but it was too cool for swimming. There was a fiery sunset and excellent views.
We drove to Kirstenbosch Botanical Garden on a dull day hoping for some respite from the hustle and bustle of the city. The 36 acres of garden on the slopes of Table Mountain are in the heart of the Cape Floristic Region. The Kirstenbosch Gardens were established in 1913 and today they celebrate the botanical diversity of the region. The gardens were declared a UNESCO World Heritage site in 2004. We walked along the 130 m Centenary Tree Canopy Walkway that is known as the Boomslang (after the local tree snake) as it winds discreetly and almost invisibly through the canopy. There were miles of well maintained pathways but we could not take full advantage of these as it began to rain. We retreated to the tearooms and then to the souvenir shop but the rain persisted until we gave up and left.
Christmas Eve fell on a Saturday which is the day for a weekly slow food market in Stellenbosch that we had to see. From the range of comestibles we managed to limit ourselves to cherry tarts for Christmas breakfast and some examples of Zulu beadwork as gifts. We carried on to the town of Stellenbosch where I was particularly struck by the roses in great profusion outside the Magistrates Court building. I assumed that the gardens would be tended by detainees. It was a credit to whoever was responsible.
We visited the Delaire Estate with its splendid views, manicured vineyard and exquisite restaurant. The estate also had a spa and accommodation wing. It was all luxurious and looked like a gallery of images from “Lifestyles of the Rich and famous”. We sat on the terrace for a drink while we contemplated the view.
It was quite hard to carry on to another garden called Babylonstoren but I am very glad that we made the effort. This place is one of the oldest Cape Dutch farms dating back to 1692. There was a restaurant as well as a produce shop where we lingered for some time admiring the bacon and cheeses. We almost ran out of time to see the gardens. The gardens spread over 3.5 ha were divided into flower areas as well as small plots edged with box for medicinal and culinary herbs. There were plots for all kinds of vegetables shaded by pergolas for grapes as well as fruit trees. The gardens are run as an organic enterprise and we got to meet some of the ducks who did all the work of discouraging the snails and other bugs. It was a truly impressive place where we could easily have spent a full day.
That evening we dined formally at the very upmarket Grande Roche restaurant. We started with a sundowner on the deck then moved into the elegant Bosman Restaurant for a five course set menu. Barbara enjoyed the wines matched with each course while I was astounded at the beautiful presentation of each plate. We started with beef carpaccio then buffalo burrata followed by a fish course and a serving of springbok loin. To finish there was chocolate, poached pears and icecream. Each course looked like a picture and I contemplated each one for a long time before picking up a knife and fork. I realised that I will not be able to replicate this standard at home. Each course was very small but at the end of the meal I was well satisfied.
We thought that Christmas Day would be a good opportunity to take the cable car up Table Mountain without the usual crowds. We were wrong. There were heaps of people and we had to wait about 45 minutes to get a place on the cable car. Alia and Mike joined us along with her father and we wandered around looking at the views and the wildlife. Table Mountain dominates Cape Town and is a huge geographical feature extending all the way to Cape Point. Not only does it loom on the horizon but it also affects the weather patterns. Some days there are clouds that billow over the mountain to form a “tablecloth”. According to legend there was once a pipe smoking contest between the Devil and a Dutch pirate called Van Hunks. The contest is destined to be repeated every year and is symbolised by the appearance of the table cloth.
The cable car has been going up and down every 10 to 15 minutes every day since 1929. The Upper Cable Station is 1067 m above sea level. There is the usual souvenir shop and café at the top but we spent most of our time looking at the views and the flora and fauna. It is estimated that there are over 2285 plant species to be found on Table Mountain and the Cape Peninsula Range … more than the numbers in the whole of the United Kingdom. Apart from many species of proteas there are ericas and succulents making altogether a plant system known as fynbos.
We had a late lunch at the Capetonian Hotel with Alia’s family. This was an opportunity to get to know them better. There were stories and laughter and a good time was had by all.
We ventured out into the countryside again on Boxing Day. We had booked a table for lunch at Idiom Restaurant but we had some difficulty finding the place nestled in a valley at the end of a long private road. The GPS did not know about it so we followed the instructions until we found a series of small notice boards giving the name of the place with rudimentary directions. Once again the scenery was gorgeous and when we finally reached our destination it was well worth the effort. The restaurant was new … opened only six months ago. The food was beautifully presented. Barbara enjoyed the wine offerings and after the meal I enjoyed visiting the small shop where there were handbags and wallets in different kinds of leather for sale. There was also a small selection of perfumes inspired by different wines.
We continued our exploration of the countryside by visiting Franschhoek. The land around the current town was settled by French Huguenots in the late 1600s. The settlers named their new farms after their former homes in France … La Motte, Champagne, La Provence, Bourgogne … and even today the village has retained a certain French chic especially in July when the Bastille Day celebrations overwhelm other identities. The main street is lined with a mix of cafes and restaurants, art galleries and boutique stores. It was charming but we arrived late in the day and things were closing for the evening. There were many Cape Dutch style buildings and I would be happy to spend a weekend relaxing there.
We spent a day visiting Cape Point following the Atlantic seaboard to Camps Bay and Hout Bay then over Chapman’s Peak to Noordhoek and Kommetjie. We had to pay a road toll but the rewards were the spectacular views of Noordhoek, the vast stretches of endemic fynbos, the rolling hills and valleys and of course the Atlantic Ocean. We saw a number of houses with thatched roofs waving over the dormer windows. I had not expected to see the art of thatching so widespread. We even saw an advertisement for a Master Thatcher so I assume that it is possible to be apprenticed as a thatcher until the trade is fully learned.
Cape Point lies within the same World Heritage Site as Kirstenbosch and is just 60 km outside Cape Town. The Cape Point Floral Region is home to about 20% of Africa’s flora. We saw baboons and sea birds. There was a lighthouse at Kommetjie but the real star attraction was the historical light at Cape Point. It is the most powerful lighthouse on the South African coast. It was constructed in 1859 and it stands 249 m above sea level. At this height it is often covered by clouds and its effectiveness reduced. There are 26 recorded shipwrecks in the area. Another lighthouse was constructed closer to sea level. Access to the higher one is by the Flying Dutchman funicular. By the time that we arrived we were able to take the funicular up but the service ended for the day a short time later. We walked down to the carpark admiring the views along the way.
On another day we drove along the Atlantic Coast from the other direction and spent time at the Naval Museum in Simon’s Town. By chance we saw the rope way that was held up by stout posts allowing the movement of goods from the Naval Base to the hospital on the ridge above the town. This method of transport is no longer used these days and the posts have been preserved as an historical interest. We enjoyed the antics of the penguins at Boulder Beach, visited the quaint Kalk Bay and walked on the beach at Muizenberg. On the recommendation of Johann we enjoyed a seafood meal at a restaurant called “Live Bait” where we had a good view of the beach.
At last it was the day for the wedding reception. We spent the morning visiting museums … the South African Jewish Museum and Holocaust Centre, the Museum of Slavery and the Company Gardens were extremely interesting but we could not linger as long as we would have liked.
The reception invitation was for 6pm at Suikerbossie Restaurant where from the terrace we could see the sea. It was a delightful occasion with about 150 guests … mostly family but Barbara and I were allocated a table with two men who were Mike’s friends from his school days. We had a lot to talk about. There was a band and dancing and a cake cutting ceremony. The time flew away.
On our last day in Cape Town we visited the District 6 Museum. District 6 was a black neighbourhood that the residents were required to leave to create a separation between the different races during the apartheid years. It was very moving to see how ordinary people were torn away from their support networks so that the whole sense of community broke down.
Our final visit was to the V&A Wharf area. The place was heaving with people. There were plenty of shops similar to shops that you can see anywhere so the large mall was not of much interest. It was time to go out to the airport so we picked up our bags, said farewell to Johann and Beppe and surrendered ourselves to the slow procedures of airport and airline.
The purpose of Pilgrimage is to visit the Holy Shrines and to offer prayers and supplications in those most sacred places. All else is mere sightseeing.
I have used Renaissance Tours in the past for opera tours but this was my first long trip with that organisation and it was a great success both musically and socially. It was my first visit to Munich, Frankfurt, Prague and Leipzig so this made the tour doubly special.
I flew to Munich on 6 July to meet up with the rest of the 20 participants. There were 3 Kiwis and the others were Australian. At 7pm there was a welcome dinner at the Platzl Hotel where we stayed in the heart of Munich near the National Theatre. This was my first opportunity to meet the rest of the team. I was sharing a room with Elizabeth Harrisson from Melbourne and we spent a while getting to know each other. I was also pleased to meet Antony Ernst who I remember from his days working in Auckland. He was our Tour Leader who gave informative talks each performance day and patiently answered many questions. I also renewed my acquaintance with Justice Jane Matthews who I have met many times at Wagner activities in Australia as well as at meetings of the Women Judges in various parts of the world.
On 7 June we were taken by bus to the town of Garmisch-Partenkirchen located about 90 miles south of Munich near the Austrian border. In 1935 the two towns amalgamated under a single administration. The area is a ski resort lying at the foot of Germany’s highest mountain, Zugspitze, with a summit of 2962m. Garmisch is considered to be a more fashionable area while Partenkirchen retains the cobbled streets and country atmosphere of Bavaria.
Our visit had nothing to do with sport as we spent our time at the Strauss Institute established in the town where Richard Strauss lived and worked for much of his life. Some of the history of the building was explained by the Director and there was a short concert of Strauss lieder. Sadly we spent so much time looking at the museum exhibits that there was no time to see the famous Strauss Fountain but we did manage to drive past the Strauss family home. Richard Strauss actually lived at that address from 1908 until his death in 1949. The villa was designed by the Bavarian jugendstil architect Emanuel von Seidl and is still occupied by the Strauss family. The Director expressed the hope that the building might eventually become part of the Institute property.
That night some of us attended a performance of Rossini’s La Cenerentola where the cast made a great effort to emphasise the comic ingredients of the libretto. It was light and fast paced and just the right start for an opera tour.
The next day began with the first pre performance talk by Antony Ernst. He had a lot of interesting comments about the shift from Classicism to Romanticism and the implications not only for music and opera but also for all aspects of society. We visited the Lenbachhaus Gallery for a guided tour. The building was once the home of Franz Lenbach an art collector. The property was acquired by the City of Munich in 1924 and now houses a substantial collection of works by Munich painters and contemporary artists in styles such as the Blue Rider and the New Objectivity. As I viewed the paintings and listened to the guide I realised that I know almost nothing about German painting being more familiar with work by French and Italian artists. There was a whole room of Blue Rider works and I was very impressed by them.
That night we all attended the first opera of the tour at the National Theatre. Tannhauser was sung in German with German and English surtitles. We had good seats near the front but I had to crane my neck to see the surtitles and became very stiff by the end of the evening. Despite my discomfort the performance was good. Following the usual Wagnerian practice the opera started early and after the performance we streamed across the road to the Spatenhaus Restaurant on the other side of the square.
The next day we travelled by coach to Frankfurt with a lunch stop at the charming medieval town of Wertheim am Main. I noticed the scallop shell logo of the Camino on the wall of the local church. Late in the afternoon we arrived at the Steigenberger Frankfurter Hof known to everyone as “The Hof”. This was our base in Frankfurt.
During our first morning in Frankfurt we took a walking tour of some of the sights including the birthplace of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. We had no programme in the afternoon so I visited the Stadel Museum beside the river. I saw the famous life sized portrait by Johann Tischbein of Goethe in Italy wearing travelling clothes and a broad brimmed black hat. The great man is seated on some Roman ruins and is looking purposefully into middle distance. The painting is such an icon that a statue based on it is now on display at Frankfurt Airport. I was also impressed by a large painting of Jan Hus the pre Reformation reformer who became a hero to Martin Luther and others. Hus was a Czech who preached key Reformation themes a century before Luther drew up his 95 theses. As is often the case with people who point out abuses of religious doctrine Hus was martyred by being burned at stake in 1415. (Joan of Arc was burned at stake in 1431.) The painting shows Hus expounding his doctrine before the leaders of the Church. He remained steadfast despite the cunning brutality of his opponents. The painting captured something of his enthusiasm and integrity.
That night we attended a performance of The Flying Dutchman at the Frankfurt Opera. The production by David Bosch was conducted by Sebastian Weigle. The role of the Dutchman was performed by Scottish born bass-baritone Iain Paterson and that of Senta by Erika Sunnegardh. It was an excellent performance by all concerned and the little song about the Steuerman has been echoing through my head ever since.
On 11th June we gathered ourselves together for the flight to Prague where we stayed at the Thalia Hotel. We dined at the Sarah Bernhardt Restaurant then walked to the Municipal House where we attended a concert by the Prague Philharmonia in the Smetana Hall. Sadly I did not meet Pietari Inkinen who has been conducting the Prague Symphony Orchestra but I was greatly impressed by the magnificence of the Smetana Hall and the rest of the building. We heard a performance of the German requiem by Brahms and it was beautiful.
The next day we visited the huge complex of historic buildings known as Prague Castle. The castle is on a hill overlooking the city. It is virtually a self contained town and in historic times people would spend their whole lives in the castle without venturing down the hill at all. We visited the Lobkowicz Palace which is the only privately owned building in the whole complex. The Palace Museum was full of art works including paintings as well as ceramics, porcelain and decorative arts dating from 16th to 20th centuries. There were even some original scores by Beethoven and Mozart.
There was a concert after lunch followed by free time to wander around until the bus took us back to the hotel. There was so much to see that I felt as though I missed a lot of it.
There was no programme that evening so I went with Margaret and Ross Henty to the National Marionette Theatre. Somehow we found our way through the maze of narrow streets to the purpose built Art Deco style theatre dating from 1929 where we saw a performance of Don Giovanni that used Mozart’s music and followed the tale of the downfall of the wicked Don quite closely. Every effort was made to spice it up with humour. The performance was conducted by an increasingly drunk Mozart. Despite the uncomfortable seats I was entranced.
On 13 June we took a full day walking tour with a local guide to see the Old Town Square and Town Hall with its famous Astrological Clock. Unfortunately the town hall was under renovation so we could not go inside. One side of the square is dominated by the Tyn Church or the Church of Our Lady before Tyn. The asymmetrical twin towers of the church can be seen all over Prague but the effect is diminished by the houses built close to the front hiding the entrance to the church. We had to pass through the houses in order to enter the church. The towers are of different dimensions to represent the masculine and feminine elements in creation. I gather that this is a characteristic of Gothic architecture. According to legend the towers inspired the design of Walt Disney’s Sleeping Beauty Castle.
In my student days I acquired a print of a poster showing the famous actress Sarah Bernhardt posing against a starry sky but back then I did not realise that there was a long working relationship between Mucha and the actress. He made many posters advertising her appearances and many of these were displayed at the Mucha Museum in Prague. I learned much about his life and work during this visit. I had no idea that he had produced so much art work and inspired many others who copied his ideas.
We passed by the National Theatre (Estates Theatre) where the first performance of Don Giovanni took place on 29 October 1787. The theatre was also difficult to see clearly due to the proximity of other structures. The rear of the theatre was crowded by one of buildings of the Charles University. I did manage to have a clear view of the Don Giovanni statue close to the front of the theatre.
We crossed the Vitava River to lunch at the Augustine Restaurant and in the afternoon visited gardens, churches and palaces. I saw the memorial to Jan Palach who immolated himself in January 1969 in protest about the ongoing Soviet occupation of Czechoslovakia. At the time people compared the death of Jan Palach to that of Jan Hus especially in relation to the consequences of their sacrifices. Once again there was so much history all around that it was hard to take it in.
On 14 June we attended the Czech National Opera new production of Lohengrin directed by Katharina Wagner. I was in some trepidation about how the opera would be presented but it went well. There were no flourishes that were difficult to follow and the singing was wonderful. It is a powerful story with a male chorus and the production emphasised the strong relationships amongst the various characters.
On 15th June it was time to turn towards Leipzig – the last stop on this tour. We stopped at the Richard Wagner Museum at Graupa. Wagner came to this place for relaxation but he also wrote the entire first draft of Lohengrin in a short burst of creative energy during one visit.
When we arrived in Leipzig we settled ourselves at the Steigenberger Grandhotel Handelshof and I went for a walk with Elizabeth to orientate ourselves. The Central Railway Station was about 700 m from the hotel. It was a huge station and Leipzig was a railway hub for many years.
After a pre performance talk from Antony the next morning we went on a walking tour around the central city. We visited the Bach Museum and St Thomas Church where JS Bach served as Kapellmeister from 1723 until his death in 1750. His remains lie in the church where he worked for so long and the last of his personal possessions are on display in the museum.
As luck would have it we went to visit the church when there was a rehearsal underway for a performance of the St John Passion. I was so enthralled that I almost lost track of our party as we moved to have lunch at The Arabian Coffee Tree café. This watering hole is one of the oldest cafes in Europe and in former times it was frequented by such luminaries as Bach and Wagner.
We spent the rest of the day looking at historic buildings and wandering through the network of alleys, courtyards and arcades that make up this ancient city.
Our visit to Leipzig coincided with a special “Strauss in Leipzig” weekend. The Leipzig Opera performed three opera over the weekend under the baton of Ulf Schirmer who also conducts the Gewandhaus Orchestra. We were able to walk from the hotel to the Opera House where we enjoyed performances of Arabella, Salome and Die Frau Ohne Schatten over three successive nights.
The only one of these operas that I had seen before was Salome and this production was stunning. The stage looked like a used battle field hinting at moral collapse and the production emphasised the madness of the central characters. The singing was excellent and the effect was overwhelming. Arabella was also well done but for me the standout was the complex tale of Die Frau Ohne Schatten. I feel that I need to study that one in order to follow the story and understand the music better.
In between the operas our party visited the Schumann House where Robert and Clara spent the first four years of their married life. I learned a lot more about them during the visit and since I would like to know more I will need to do some study when I arrive home. We also visited the Grassi Museum of Musical Instruments, the largest collection in Germany. There was so much to see and so little time. I gained an insight into the music history of the city as well as five centuries of instrument making.
On Sunday morning we attended a chamber music concert at the Mendelssohn House. These concerts happen every Sunday in an upper room which was very stuffy. There were three young women performing an interesting programme on piano, flute and oboe including the Schuman Romance for oboe. It was just a delightful way to spend a Sunday morning before our farewell lunch at a nearby restaurant.
It was my first visit to Berlin. I followed Barbara’s example and rented an apartment for my eight day stay in that marvellous city. I chose Frederic’s, a place on the corner of Grosse Hamburger Strasse in the Jewish quarter located close to cafes, shops and public transport and within walking distance of the Museum Island. It was close to Hackesher Markt in what was once East Berlin.
The apartment itself had a fully equipped kitchen and a spacious bed-sitting room area. I did most of my own catering in the apartment kitchen and purchased groceries at the store that was only a block away. There was a large TV screen where I watched BBC News and a laundry in the basement. I was delighted with the choice.
The area where I stayed was dominated by the Alexanderturm, a thousand foot high telecommunications tower built in the 1960s. It was designed to be visible all over Berlin and to broadcast in every sense the virtues of the Soviet state. It is still one of the tallest buildings in Berlin and it was an invaluable aid to my navigation around the city.
To assist in my orientation I took a ride on one of the many hop on-hop off tourist buses and saw a number of interesting places but even in 8 days I did not have time to explore all of them. As the bus circled the central city I saw Checkpoint Charlie and the Holocaust memorial and many other places that I had heard about.
I was impressed with the beautiful city even though I know that it was reduced to rubble by the end of WWII. Generally the eastern sector of Berlin appears to have been rebuilt using stone and other permanent materials while the western side preserved some of the ruins as war memorials and rebuilt in modern materials.
The bus trip passed the famous Brandenburg Gate which was heaving with tourists so I decided not to spend any time there. The gate is on the boundary between the Eastern and Western zones and was one of the official crossing points. As in the 18th century it became an entrance to Berlin and a significant place for demonstrations. It was the scene of a rebellion against Soviet rule in 1953 when tens of thousands of workers called for free elections and tore down the red flag. Soviet tanks were used to reassert control. On 14 August 1961 (one day after the building of the Wall began) West Berliners protested there against the division of their city. Using these demonstrations as a pretext, the East German authorities closed the checkpoint “until further notice”. It was not reopened until December 1989 when the West German Chancellor, Helmut Kohl, walked through the gate to greet the East German Prime Minister, Hans Modrow. Even today the Gate speaks powerfully to all people about the division and reunification of Germany.
Near the gate is the restored Reichstag where the German Parliament meets. It looks like a glass beehive and I was hoping to see inside. Tourists have to book a visit and there were no vacancies for the whole 8 days so I did not get an opportunity to see it up close.
The bus tour took a route along Strasse des 17 Juni and past an elaborate memorial column topped by a winged woman covered in gold paint. The monument known as the Victory Column was designed in 1864 by Heinrich Strack to commemorate the victory of Prussia over Denmark. By the time the column was completed Prussia had also defeated Austria and France. Berliners have nicknamed the statue “Goldelse” which means something like “Golden Lizzie”. The entire column is 67 m tall and is decorated with bas relief carvings depicting the victories. Other decorations include cannons captured during these wars. The bas reliefs were removed in 1945 as it was not considered appropriate to celebrate German victories in the climate of those times. The carvings were replaced by French president Francois Mitterrand in 1987 in honour of the 750th anniversary of Berlin.
The bus route took us past Charlottenburg Palace and along a busy shopping street that I avoided during my own explorations. The palace is the largest in Berlin and is surrounded by a beautiful garden. I visited the palace a few days later in the company of Ross and Margaret Henty. The palace was commissioned in the 17th century by Sophie Charlotte, the wife of Friedrich III, Elector of Brandenburg, and greatly expanded during the 18th century in baroque and rococo styles. The décor was opulent and we marvelled at the wealth that must have been expended to create such luxury.
The bus also passed the Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church originally constructed in the 1890s. The church was badly damaged during a bombing raid in 1943 and most of it had to be demolished. The damaged spire has been preserved as a war memorial and the ground floor of the original building is a hall visited by many people every year. The ruined church is a well known landmark and has been nicknamed “der hohle Zahn” meaning “the hollow tooth”. A replacement church was built between 1959 and 1963 and has a very striking interior with many small panes of glass coloured blue with a few red and yellow ones making an abstract design.
I went to the church with Ross and Margaret. We were too late to see inside the ruined building but we were hoping to hear an organ concert in the new one. Unfortunately we had misread the notice posted on the door in German and we had arrived at the time for the church service rather than a concert. I did not want to walk out so we admired the simple tranquil interior at length while the minister spoke in German to the small congregation. As we left the church and shook hands with the minister I remarked that I came from New Zealand and did not speak German well enough to follow his remarks. The minister spoke good English and graciously summarised his sermon in that language. He explained that 2017 marks the 500th anniversary of the Ninety Five Theses written by Martin Luther. This minister was preaching each month about an aspect of Martin Luther’s teachings and this month was about Piety. The church staff stood around politely while all this was going on and I really appreciated the time that the minister gave to us.
I was very happy to spend some time with Ross and Margaret who were staying in another apartment close to the Railway Station. We met on a number of occasions and at their suggestion I obtained tickets to attend several operas. My Berlin season began with Medea by Aribert Reimann at the Komische Oper. The title role was taken by Nicole Chevalier who performed with distinction in a shocking tale of love turned sour and awful revenge. It was riveting and filled with sound and fury as the orchestra vibrated to gongs and cymbals, shrieking flutes and mocking brass. The Hentys planned to attend that opera later in the week as they went to Wittenburg to learn more about Martin Luther before turning towards Berlin. I could hardly find words to tell them about Medea so powerful was the experience.
We attended a performance of Boris Godunov by Mussorgsky. We saw a shortened version of the opera at Deutsche Oper where the seats were so uncomfortable I was glad to get out of the place. I am sure that the seats were the reason for my lack of enthusiasm about this production although I cannot pinpoint anything that was substandard in either the music or the acting.
The following evening we attended a performance of Zoroastre by Rameau. The production was original but the critics felt that an argument between neighbours about the placement of a fence between their properties was not a suitable vehicle for the plot. The music was well played and most of the singing was good but on reflection the opera failed to engage me.
The last opera was Orpheus by Monteverdi at Komische Oper. I met Ross and Margaret for dinner at a restaurant on Unter Den Linden prior to the performance. While I was waiting for them an organ grinder was entertaining the guests. He had a facial tattoo that I recognised as a New Zealand design. Language difficulties prevented me from finding out from him who had done this work for him.
Orpheus was an utterly charming production with characters appearing out of a garden lit softly in green like a woodland scene that reminded me so much of a production of Benjamin Britten’s Midsummer Night’s Dream that I saw some years ago. In fact the whole theatre was transformed into a lush garden as chorus members dangled birds and butterflies over the balcony and cavorted through the aisles wearing not very much, waving gauzy scarves and pursuing nymphs. Two choruses of brass instruments spoke to each other across the circle. It was a delightfully joyful performance.
My visit to Berlin was also an opportunity to visit art galleries and museums. I walked to the Museum Island from my apartment and avoided the most popular places. I spent much of a day at the Bode Museum admiring the art treasures such as the truly awe inspiring collection of sculptures from the Middle Ages down to the late 18th century. It was a huge collection and one visit did not do it justice. I was struck by the wooden figures of The Four Evangelists carved by Tilman Riemenschneider in 1492 for the Magdalenenkirche in Munnerstadt near Wurzburg. It would have been a soaring and impressive altarpiece in the church and although the secular atmosphere of the museum did not provide the intended atmosphere the figures were still majestic and memorable.
One day I walked a great distance past the Tiergarten to the Gemaldegalerie to see the paintings by Vermeer. I had to pass through the Embassy district where there were beautiful buildings designed to show off aspects of the culture of the nations they were serving. The Egyptian and Saudi Arabian buildings were richly decorated. The Japanese Embassy stood on the corner of Hiroshima Strasse and the US Embassy was barred and gated like a fortress with guards outside.
There was a statue of Richard Wagner with its back to the Tiergarten standing across the road. It took a while but I finally located the Gallery and was disappointed to find that one of the paintings ( Woman with a Pearl Necklace) was out on loan to another gallery. There were many other paintings to capture my attention.
On another day after a conversation with Margaret Henty, I visited the Alte Nationalgalerie to see some of the works of Caspar David Friedrich. I knew nothing about this artist before but I noticed a resemblance to the work of JMW Turner. It was something about the light in the Friedrich paintings that attracted my attention. Turner (1775 – 1851) was an English landscape painter considered controversial in his lifetime. Nowadays his work is more admired and appreciated. Friedrich (1774 – 1840) was German and is regarded as the most important landscape painter of his generation. I was pleased to see the Friedrich paintings and I realise that I have a lot to learn about both artists.
There were so many other things to see and do in Berlin. Just three doors down Grosse Hamburger Strasse from my apartment was the old Jewish cemetery. There was a fence around the property and at the entrance stood a sculptural group of figures by Will Lammert. The work was originally intended for Ravensbruck camp memorial. The cemetery is the oldest in Berlin and was in use from 1672 to 1827. It was closed due to the insufficiency of space. The records were lost during WWII when the cemetery was destroyed. The area was used as an air raid shelter after 1943 and in 1945 it became a mass grave for civilians killed during bombing raids on the city. Today there are a few surviving gravestones fixed to the wall and one symbolic grave in honour of the philosopher Moses Mendelssohn.
The first Jewish museum in Berlin was founded on 24 January 1933 just 6 days before the Nazis officially took power. It was closed by the Gestapo in November 1938 and the contents were confiscated. A new museum designed by Daniel Libeskind was opened 1999. It has a challenging zig zag design and I found that it was difficult to find my way around.
Potsdam is close to Berlin and I went there on the S Train with Ross and Margaret. We visited Cecilienhof, the home of Crown Prince Wilhelm, built during the period 1914 – 17. It is described as the last palace built by the Hohenzollern family that ruled the Kingdom of Prussia and the German Empire until the end of WWI. The Crown Prince lived there except for a short period during WWI until Germany was defeated in 1945. The palace is designed to resemble an English Tudor mansion surrounded by gardens and even today is a very attractive place.
At the close of WWII there was a conference of the “Big Three” world leaders (Churchill, Stalin and Truman)at Cecilienhof to negotiate the peace arrangements. It was interesting to look around the rooms where the negotiations took place and to see the gardens where the world leaders relaxed between sessions.
From the Cecilienhof we moved on to admire the Sanssouci Palace, the summer palace of Frederick the Great. Although we were not able to look inside the gardens and fountains were lovely and it was good to see the area being enjoyed by so many citizens. After WWII the palace and gardens became a tourist attraction and after reunification the body of Frederick the Great was reinterred there overlooking the gardens that he had created.
In 1990 Sanssouci and its gardens became a World Heritage Site protected by UNESCO. Today more than two million people a year visit Sanssouci and the other palaces around Berlin.
As arranged I met Manijeh Reyhani at Vienna Airport and we flew on the same plane to Podgorica where she and Adel are living these days. Podgorica is the capital of Montenegro, a Balkan state with a long history. It was at one time a part of the Ottoman Empire and subsequently became part of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia. When the Kingdom collapsed Montenegro became part of the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia and gained independence in June 2006.
The coast of Montenegro is on the Adriatic and it has a diverse range of peoples amongst its citizens. According to the 2011 census there are 620,000 people living there. There is no majority ethnic group … major groups consist of Montnegrins, Serbs, Albanians, Bosniaks and Croats. The official language is Montenegrin but the other languages apart from Albanian are mutually intelligible.
Since Montenegro is a multicultural nation with two major religions … Serbian Orthodox and Islam … it has a history of peaceful co-existence. The more recently founded Montenegrin Orthodox Church has a small number of followers and since it is not in communion with other orthodoxies it has not been officially recognised.
During my visit Manijeh took me to see the new Serbian Orthodox Church in Podgorica. She mentioned that some people thought it should be a Montenegrin Orthodox Church but neither of us knew if there are any substantial doctrinal differences between them.
We went out one afternoon with a couple who have a country house in a village about 40 minutes drive from Podgorica. We admired the countryside and sat in the garden to chat. Sascha watered the well stocked garden and it was a very relaxing afternoon.
I was there for too short a time to do any sightseeing but I have promised to return one day.
Visby is the largest town on the island of Gotland. I had to fly to Visby from Stockholm as there is no air transport to Fårö. The city has some 24,000 inhabitants and is the best preserved medieval city in Scandinavia. Since 1995 it has been on the UNESCO World Heritage Site list. It has a number of historical sites including a town wall and several ruined churches.
The area has been inhabited since about 950 AD no doubt because of the safe harbour and the availability of fresh water. In the Middle Ages Visby flourished as a Hanseatic City. The Town Wall was constructed in 13th and 14th centuries and most of it is still standing today complete with towers and fortifications. The fact that it was built at all indicates the importance of Visby as a trading centre. In addition the defensive trenches outside the wall remain largely intact. There are twelve ruined churches in Visby of which ten lie within the medieval city walls. The inhabitants of Gotland accepted Christianity in the 11th century and a number of churches were built over the next 400 years. The last of these was dedicated to St Catherine and inaugurated in 1412.
I had arranged to meet Margareta at the bus station but missed her on the first time around. The bus returned to the station and we found each other for a joyful reunion. It rained throughout my visit but we set off hopefully to explore the town. We called in at the Visitors Centre where I was able to leave my suitcase for a few hours. We took a ride on the tourist “train” but the steady rain made photography difficult. We visited the ruined St Catherine Church and the remains of a Russian Church found during an archaeological exploration in 1971 under a house in a residential area. We also visited the museum to see the ancient tombstones, the contents of ancient chambered tombs and the Spillings hoard of silver objects.
Later in the afternoon we took the bus and ferry to Fårö where we were to stay with Ingeborg who I met when I was in Stockholm. Ingeborg’s family has a property with four cabins and she invited her friend, Barbara, as well as Margareta and me to stay for a few days. It was a most delightful spot in a rural area close to the beach. Staying in one of the other cabins was Mowe, Ingeborg’s niece. We had a relaxing time together, going for walks, admiring gardens and wildflowers and visiting the Ingmar Bergman Centre.
I did not know before my visit that the movie director, Ingmar Bergman, made his home on this enchanting island and a number of his movies were shot there including Through a Glass Darkly (1961) Persona (1966) Hour of the Wolf (1968) and so on. The story told by the islanders is that Bergman was looking for a suitable place to make his movies and wanted to set up business in the Orkney Islands but the movie company persuaded him to visit Fårö before making the decision. He duly made the visit and fell in love with the place and the rest is history.
Each year in June there is a week of celebrations to remember the life and work of Bergman. This involves viewing his movies. We all went to the Bergman Centre but the movies were in Swedish without subtitles and I would not have understood very much. I sat in the library and read books until it was time to go home. There was a view from the window of wild flowers nodding in the rain. Someone had picked a bunch and put them in a jar on the windowsill where they lit up everything in the room.
When it was time for me to continue my journey I took a taxi to Visby Airport and flew to Stockholm then took the train to Gothenburg.
I travelled to Gothenburg by train in order to enjoy the countryside. The train passed through rolling farmland similar to the Waikato region in New Zealand eventually arriving at the Central Train Station in the late afternoon. I was able to walk across the square to the Radisson where my room was waiting. Everything was very comfortable. There was even a computer for the use of guests so I was able to catch up on emails. I looked forward to walking and relaxing for a few days.
Gothenburg is the second largest city in Sweden and is located at the mouth of a river that feeds into the Kattegat. The ground was marshy so canals were built for drainage. Gothenbug has always been a trading city due to the safe harbour and there is also a fishing industry. In the 19th century became a major embarkation point for Swedes travelling to USA.
I walked around the shopping area and found two places selling my favourite designer clothes. There were buskers in the park and lots of people watching to be done. I walked to the wharves and lunched at the fish market. I walked along the canal to find my way back to the hotel and got lost. It was just right.
After two nights I continued south on the train. I did not stop at Malmö but continued over the famous Ǿresund Bridge that is a marvel of engineering spanning the Ǿresund Strait between Sweden and Denmark. The bridge is in two layers with the road on top and the train underneath and it is the longest such combined bridge in Europe. In addition the bridge begins as a suspension construction on the Swedish side and runs for 8 km to the artificial island, Peberholm, when it plunges into a tunnel for a further 4km to Denmark.
The bridge was most spectacular and traffic has increased steadily as it is the link between Scandinavia and Central and Western Europe.
Wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen
Friendly old girl of a town
'Neath her tavern light
On this merry night
Let us clink and drink one down
To wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen
Salty old queen of the sea
Once I sailed away
But I'm home today
Singing Copenhagen, wonderful, wonderful
Copenhagen for me
I arrived in Copenhagen by train rather than on a sailing ship. The Central Train Station is opposite the Tivoli Gardens and although I walked from there to our hotel a number of times during my stay I decided to take a taxi with my bag the first time. The Avenue Hotel was conveniently located for Barbara’s conference and not too far from the centre of town. It has a pleasant dining room with large windows on to the street and a private garden with hydrangeas behind the building. There was also a large lounge next to the bar where I was able to relax with a book.
When Barbara arrived from Glasgow we walked around the corner to a Greek restaurant for dinner. Although she had not stayed in that hotel before she had noticed the restaurant as she walked from the local rail station. Over the next few days she was busy with her conference and we saw each other only at breakfast time. I was engaged in the serious business of being a tourist.
I purchased a Copenhagen Tourist Card which gave access to public transport as well as many attractions. I took a walking tour with an English speaking guide in order to orientate myself. The tour started outside the Town Hall (Rathaus) and passed by museums, restaurants (the guide pointed out an excellent fish restaurant called Krogs) and shopping malls. There were many narrow alleys where there were hoardings to protect people from road works. We went to the harbour area lined with licorice allsort houses and cafes. This would have been the area where the sailing ships arrived. There was a lot of glass clinking going on no matter what time of the day I was there.
We admired the opera house on the water and enjoyed stories told by the guide about the building of it. The opera house looks wonderful but I did not get a chance to go inside. The iconic building was sponsored by the Maersk Shipping Line which has its HQ on the other side of the water. The opera house has a rounded glass front sheltering the foyer. The rear wall of the foyer was intended to be the rich red colour of a violin but it would have been too expensive to use the same techniques as in instrument making so a red stain was used instead. As a result the area is known locally as “the pumpkin”. The foyer also has three large chandeliers and when these are illuminated they resemble the three yellow circles on a red background flag of the Christiania Freetown hippy community that has sprung up in a disused military base in Copenhagen.
The tour carried on to see the Royal Palace at Amalienborg and the Marble Church used by the Royals. I missed the changing of the guard ceremony but saw the guards posing for photos with passersby in a good humoured way that contrasted with the formality of the British Royal Guard. It was amazing to be allowed so near to the palaces and to wander around the beautiful, historic church.
I managed to get lost on the way back to the Town Hall. I was interested to see the street art including the equestrian statue of St Absalon depicting him as a military man. The guide mentioned that the same man is depicted at the front of the Town Hall wearing ecclesiastical robes. In his role as a military man he led a small number of soldiers against the Wends (the guide referred to the Wends as German pirates )and defeated them soundly without losing any of his own men. In the course of the fighting the statue of the god of the Wends was torn down. Recognising the superiority of the Christian Danes the Wends embraced Christianity. Other street art included the two Vikings with war horns outside the Town Hall.
I called in at the Royal Copenhagen China Shop and watched the hand painting of the distinctive designs. Despite wandering around the shop for some time I managed to avoid buying a new dinner service. Next door was the Georg Larsen jewellery store where the many beautiful modern designs became the centre of my attention for some time.
I visited the modern art gallery at Charlottenborg Palace near the harbour. Apart from the art works on the inside there was an installation by Chinese artist Ai Wei Wei where a large number of life jackets discarded by refugees arriving on the beaches of the Greek islands had been folded and put into the window apertures facing the cafes across the water. It was touching and moving reminder of the movement of huge numbers of people looking for a better life in Europe.
Later in the week I took the train to Helsingør also known as Elsinore in order to see the castle that is said to be the setting for Shakespeare’s “Hamlet”. The 15th century Kronburg Castle overlooks the narrowest point of the Ǿresund Strait but although I could see Helsingborg in Sweden clearly I could not see the famous bridge. I wandered around the castle and admired the view from the battlements. Did the ghost of Hamlet’s father walk here? The castle was a royal residence containing many art treasures until 1629 when a fire destroyed much of the building. The castle eventually became a military barracks until 1923 when it was extensively renovated and opened to the public.
The royal apartments on the first floor are richly decorated with ceiling paintings stone portals and chimneypieces. There is a huge ballroom hung with paintings and in an adjoining smaller hall are seven tapestries part of a series of 40 depicting 100 Danish Kings. There are another seven tapestries from this series on display at the National Museum but the rest have been lost. The series was commissioned by Frederick II in 1580.
The castle is famous throughout the world because of Shakespeare and the play has been performed there on a number of occasions. There was a photographic display in one room showing members of the Royal Family enjoying a performance. Actors who have played Hamlet in this location include Laurence Olivier, John Gielgud, Christopher Plummer, Derek Jacobi, David Tennant and in 2009 Jude Law. I was delighted to see some actors performing scenes from the play in the courtyard.
According to a legend linked to Arthurian myths, a Danish king known as Holger the Dane was taken to Avalon by Morgan le Fay. He returned to Kronburg where he sleeps to this day ready to awaken in order to save Denmark if this should be necessary in the future.
Near the castle is the Maritime Museum of Denmark which depicts 600 years of Danish seafaring history. Unfortunately I did not leave enough time to explore the museum thoroughly but I was able to see the special exhibition about Sex and the Sea which looked frankly at the lives of the sex workers in Copenhagen and other ports.
I walked back around the shoreline to the bus station. The train tracks were being maintained and there were no trains running further than Rungstadt. I did not have time to explore the town but when I got off the bus at Rungstadt I realised that the Karen Blixen museum was nearby. I returned the following day to visit the museum located a short walk from the station. I took a short cut through the woods and found a most delightful spot where the great writer spent her childhood. The museum contained many photos and documents relating to the life of Karen Blixen and I realised that all I know about her came from the movie “Out of Africa” that I saw many years ago. The movie starred Merryl Streep who does not look anything like the writer and Robert Redford who has a slight resemblance to Denys Finch Hatton. I was able to visit the house and admire many of the original furnishings then I took a walk back through the woods to Karen Blixen’s grave. I am now keen to read some of her stories as she was recognised as a gifted writer. She was considered for the Nobel Prize in Literature.
After Barbara’s conference finished she had a spare day to do some sightseeing. Her colleague, Brigid Carroll, joined us and we took the train to the Louisiana Museum of Modern Art at Humlebǽk where we were able to enjoy indoor exhibits as well as the Sculpture Garden. The building blended into the gardens and the time flew by until closing time when we had to walk back to the bus stop in order to arrive at the railway station.
We walked to a place near the opera house called Papiroen where there was a huge variety of street food to be sampled. The place was very busy and there were long queues at the best stalls. It was popular with tourists and locals alike. We sat outside to enjoy the sunset.
That evening was our last in Copenhagen so we went to the Tivoli Gardens for a jazz concert followed by a colourful fireworks display. It was great to see people of all ages doing ballroom dancing to the jazz music. It occurred to me that people would not dance like that in NZ. There was a happy relaxed atmosphere. There were security men at the gates but no obvious police presence. It was a lovely way to end another first visit to a wonderful city.
I spent a long time on line before making some recommendations about travelling in Wales. Barbara and I decided to make a road trip through this part of the country as neither of us had ever been there before. When I started the planning process I thought that two weeks would be plenty of time but as it happened we had so much to see and do that we could hardly cram it all in. Not only did we enjoy beautiful scenery but we also had the chance to catch up with friends along the way.
We began by lunching with Ray and Glenys Marriott at a place called The Plough near Lupton. It is a charming place with good food and a deserving example of the Lake District tradition of “gastropubs”. We had a good chat and updated each other about our travels and family issues. I was very happy to see them again. I have promised to keep them informed next time I am in the area as it does not look as though they will be in NZ in the near future.
We carried on to Chester where we stayed in a comfortable B&B on Hoole Street where there are lots of similar places. As it happened we had unknowingly chosen a weekend for our visit that coincided with the local race meeting. The town was very busy. The man who would usually have been looking after us and other guests was away so we had our breakfast elsewhere. There was some drizzle while we were in Chester but we were able to explore a number of interesting places.
We started at the Visitors Centre where we met a splendidly attired centurion of Legion XX. He told us that he was a member of the Frumentarii. Originally the Frumentarii were wheat collectors and over time they collected information about local conditions and local people. They eventually became responsible for provisioning the armies. Emperor Hadrian began to use them as spies because they could travel freely and had networks of contacts. The Centurion gave us a lot of information about army life, his work gathering supplies as well as the rebellion led by Boudicca. We visited the local museum where we saw Roman tombstones and other artefacts. We also visited the remains of the Roman Amphitheatre, the city wall and the local Cathedral. Prompted by the centurion we went looking for the Roman shrine to the goddess Minerva and found it much worn by the weather in a local park area.
Chester is an attractive city of half timbered buildings and a real effort is being made to preserve this heritage. Even the modern buildings have some resemblance to the historic ones.
We took a side trip to Ellesmere Port where a visit to the National Waterways Museum took more time than expected. There was so much to see from a barge negotiating the lock to the blacksmith shop to the cottages built for the workers. It was an industrial landscape and quite fascinating because it was so unfamiliar. The museum is located at the junction where the northern end of the Shropshire Union Canal meets the Manchester ship Canal. The place is always busy.
On the way from the Museum towards Wales we took a wrong turn and rather surprisingly we ended up on the beach at Talacre. We walked on the sand and admired sandcastles made by the children using buckets and spades. The buckets in Wales have crenelated bottoms so the finished castles looked quite formidable. We had a pub lunch at Flint … it was a Sunday Roast. I chose lamb and Barbara had pork but neither meal was particularly well presented.
It was getting late in the afternoon when we stopped at Bodelwyddan near the town of Rhyl to see the famous Marble Church. It has a graceful French style spire (202 ft) and is clad in local limestone. Inside it is a jewel box of 14 different kinds of marble including a most beautiful baptismal font representing two little girls holding a giant clamshell. There are pillars of marble and carved wooden screens. The churchyard contains the graves of 90 Canadian soldiers dating from 1918. At that time there was a military camp nearby and after the war was over, as the men were waiting to be repatriated the flu pandemic took their lives. That must have been incredibly hard for the families back home. The graves are kept impeccably tidy by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission.
We stayed two nights in a Victorian style hotel close to the Llandudno waterfront. The whole town has preserved the atmosphere of a Victorian holiday resort with a pier and a wide promenade where visitors could see and be seen. On our first night (Sunday) there was a brass band concert in the bandstand. We were strolling along the pier at the time when the faint strains of “God Save the Queen” floated towards us. Although we hung around the area on Monday night there was no repeat performance.
We sampled the best that local restaurants could offer. We enjoyed a Welsh afternoon tea at the very hotel (now called St Tudno Hotel) where Alice Liddell (the inspiration for Alice in Wonderland) stayed with her family in the 1860s. The lavish afternoon tea defeated us after a plate of fresh sandwiches was followed by a three tier plate of cakes. We explored Conwy Castle and the Bodnant gardens. We went looking for standing stones driving up a steep road at the side of the Conwy Valley. We did not find the stones but we admired the most gorgeous view from the local Youth Hostel.
Surfing became a theme of this trip. We stopped to watch people surfing in a large artificial pool with an agitator that made waves. The pool near Dolgarrog is the world’s first commercial artificial surfing lake. It was hot and we ate ice cream… it was just like being at the beach.
We drove along the cliff to the Great Orme where there are copper mines dating from prehistoric times. It was only in the 1950s that the theory that the mine area was of Roman origin was properly examined and it was established that the mines were much older than Roman workings. We learned a lot more about the mines at the Llandudno museum where we saw an amazing piece of jewellery from those very early days. The item was a section of the jaw of a horse that had wavy red patterns incised upon it. The item was found about 1820 by a local fossicker and a record was made. The finder kept this artefact at his home from where it disappeared. It turned up many years later in a London junk shop where it was recognised by someone. The original is now in the British Museum so we were looking at a copy in Llandudno.
We carried on to Anglesea and stayed the night at a hard to find B&B in Holyhead. The place was called Wavecrest and we went around in circles trying to find it using the GPS. Probably it would have been quicker to walk around the block. It was worth the effort being located in a convenient area close to the ferry terminal. It was still daylight after we settled in our room so we went out to look at the scenery. We walked along the cliff top past the blooming heather to the 19th century South Stack Lighthouse from the cliff top path. The scenery is dramatic but we did not walk down the stairs to the suspension bridge that gives access to the lighthouse as it was late in the day and the light was failing. We found the Ty Mawr Hut Circles which must be about 4000 years old. We saw the remains of a number of stone circles embedded in the ground. They were once a farming settlement. Evidence of the consumption of seafood has been found along with stones for the grinding of grain.
We were unable to find the standing stones marked on the map as when we were there the area was heavily overgrown with bracken and gorse. We were too late to see the inside of Elin’s Tower, a short castellated tower built as a summer house between 1820 and 1850. The property is now used by RSPB as a visitor centre. There was no mistaking the chatter of guillemots nesting on the cliffs. We did not see any puffins nor did we sight the peregrine falcon that lives in the area but we did see red stockinged choughs. These birds are known as Cornwall Choughs but they have died out in England. They are gradually returning to Wales.
The next day we carried on to visit Caernarfon Castle. It has spectacular polygonal towers and a long history. This castle was not the first defensive structure built in the area as there had been a Roman fort known as Segontium nearby. The fort was succeeded by a motte and bailey structure then Edward I of England replaced it with the current stone structure around 1283. When the castle was under construction a wall was built around the town but the interior of the castle was never completed. The place fell into disrepair during the Tudor dynasty but during the English Civil War it was held by the Royalists and besieged by the Parliamentarians on 3 occasions. It was then neglected until the 19th Century. The castle was used for the Investiture of the Prince of Wales in 1911 and again in 1969.
We carried on in the rain to take a ride on the mountain railway from LLanberis up to the summit of Mt Snowdon. There were lots of walkers out in the rain and when we reached the summit the clouds were down and we could not see very far at all. I wrote postcards home while Barbara walked around outside in the swirling mists.
After descending from Mt Snowdon we drove to Porthmadog where we stayed at a fine old country home called Aberdunant Hall. There are a lot of cabins around the original building so nowadays many more people can stay there. We wanted to visit the Osprey Project and were delighted to find that it was actually very close. We watched the young ospreys on the webcam returning to the nest to be fed. One of the birds had not yet fledged and we sat enthralled for nearly two hours on a rainy day hoping to see the last bird achieve lift off. Sadly it was not to be. We returned the next day as we were leaving but the bird was still in the nest.
On our second day in the area we took another train ride this time to Blaenau Festiniog where the slate mines provided employment for many. The little town was very quiet and there was not a lot to see during the short time that our train was there. We had splendid views of Mt Snowdon when we returned to sea level. Mountains are always clearer from the plain. The day was rainy again but we were able to see Portmeirion with its colourful rescued buildings. We sampled the ice cream recommended by Helen Jones and visited the China Shop. There were well tended gardens and delightful views across the water as well as a bust of Patrick McGoohan who took the principal role in the television series called “The Prisoner” which was partly filmed in Portmeirion during the 1960s.
The Lloyd George Museum at Llanystumdwy was a little hard to find but well worth the effort. It was still raining so I was glad to be inside looking at the well arranged exhibits that traced the life and work of a man who was Prime Minister and visionary as well as a reformer. He was the only Welshman to become Prime Minister and also served as Chancellor of the Exchequer. He left a huge legacy to the nation but there is still disagreement over whether he was a positive or negative influence. Sadly the museum is dependent on financial support from the government. There was some indication that the support could be withdrawn and this would have led to the closure of the museum in the 2016/17 financial year. There was a last minute reprieve and as a result I was able to enjoy the exhibits.
We drove around the Llyn Peninsular to enjoy the views and ended up at another national treasure for dinner. The Twnty Seafood restaurant near Pwllheli has been operated by the same man for 26 years. It is the sort of place where the menu is dictated by the daily catch. I had expected to find it near the coast but in fact it was located some distance inland. The food was superb and the atmosphere delightful. It was quite a find.
We had many opportunities to admire the countryside. There were hills and cliffs, the sea and rivers as well as farmlands. There were small villages and seaside towns as well as the road going “ever on and on down from the door where it began”. We watched the surfers wearing wet suits taking the waves near the break water at Aberystwyth. We walked along the beach front past these hardy souls to see the ruins on the headland and the original university building.
We carried on over hills and down dales to the Elan Valley where a series of reservoirs built in the Victorian era supply the water for the city of Birmingham. As we passed along the highest part of the road there was a spectacular thunder and lightning storm and everything turned grey. As we dropped lower the trees became greener and we found the Visitors’ Centre at the end of a road to no where. There was a café and a book shop as well as a place to watch videos of the area.
I had found information on the internet about a Dam Busters walk in this area on the very day that we were planning to visit. We already knew that the inventor Barnes Wallis had conducted secret experiments in this area during WWII. The English engineer and inventor developed the bouncing bomb that was used by the RAF in Operation Chastise better known as the Dam Busters Raid in 1942. Wallis was permitted to experiment on a dam in this area to check that he has the right amount of explosives and that the bomb sank to the appropriate depth. The remains of the masonry dam breached in these experiments can still be seen. Hence the walk. After consulting the guide it was decided that I was not fit enough to make this trip so I stayed behind to read a book and watch the DVDs while Barbara went with the group to see this little known historical site.
Later in the day we carried on to Llandrindod Wells where we stayed in the former Hydro Hotel with fabulous views towards the Brecon Beacons. In former times people wold come here to take the waters much as they did in Rotorua. The place was very comfortable with an extra friendly dog. We walked down the hill to the Laughing Dog Pub for a meal. We needed to stretch our legs after such a long day in the car. It rained while we were having dinner but fortunately it stopped long enough for us to hurry back to the hotel. The whole area has plenty of water and this has shaped the countryside as well as the communities. There are several towns in the area that include the word “Wells” in their name. It is a very green and pleasant land.
As it happened we were there at the start of the weekend of the Royal Welsh Show. We did not know that this was to take place just as we were visiting the area. It is one of the largest agricultural shows in Europe and the place would be heaving with people. We were very glad to escape as the traffic was building up.
We carried on to Cardiff where we looked at the street market across the river from Principality Stadium and had a snack before carrying on to Marshfield where we stayed with Tony and Sally Kerr for two nights.
Tony took us on a walk around Marshfield and I was surprised that the town is so large. Although I have been there visiting on many occasions I had not walked around very much so I did not have a sense of its size. On our first evening Helen and Harold Jones joined us for dinner and a long catch up. On the second evening we drove over to the bank of the Severn to watch the famous bore at Minsterworth. The tidal bore is an amazing natural phenomenon that occurs as the incoming tide pushes against the flow of the river creating a wave that appears at varying heights according to the phase of the moon. Although the bore may be seen twice a day there are many variations so the spectacle is different every time. We were quite lucky to see the bore on a 9.6 tide so the wave was high enough to attract surfers. Once the wave passed us at Minsterwoth we hurried to Ippney where we saw it again. There was a clear sound of rushing water and the surfers glided past but not at the same speed that would be expected at sea.
From Marshfield Barbara and I turned north. We stopped at Tewkesbury to view the magnificent Abbey Church of St Mary the Virgin where many famous people have their final resting places. There is a brass plaque in the sanctuary marking the grave of Edward of Westminster, Prince of Wales who was killed in the battle of Tewkesbury in 1471. He was the son of Henry VI and the only Prince of Wales to die in battle. He was aged 17 at the time of his death. In addition the bones of George Duke of Clarence (the brother of Edward IV and Richard III) and those of his wife Isabelle are interred in a vault behind the High Altar. There was a lunch time organ concert as we were looking around the historic church.
We continued north to Knighton to see Offa’s Dyke but by the time we arrived the Visitors’ Centre had closed for the day and we had difficulty in finding the location of any part of this significant monument. The earthworks follow the modern boundary between England and Wales and were probably constructed in the 8th century on the orders of Offa of Mercia, a significant figure in those days. The dyke started at the Severn estuary near Chepstow and continues to Prestatyn on the north coast. In 1971 a walkway was opened as one of Britain’s National Trails. It attracts walkers from all over the world and takes about 12 days to complete the 285 km trail.
The last night of our holiday was spent at a place called The Clive (after Clive of India whose family estate is nearby) near Ludlow. The old hotel has been extensively renovated. We had dinner in a comfortable dining room and stayed in one of the new accommodation units at the rear away from the busy road. There is a new breakfast room in a separate building where we enjoyed a leisurely start to a rainy day before returning to Glasgow.
I made the best of the calm weather to sit in the spa pool at Barbara’s place. We discussed at length the redevelopment of her garden. The plan is to have three “rooms” in the tiny space available. One will be the practical area with raised beds for growing vegetables. That will be close to the fence at the rear of the property. Another will be the pool area and the last will be a decorative area for relaxing eyes and mind. The rooms will be connected by a wavy path inspired by a design book given to Barbara by Sally Kerr. Barbara has called in the services of the same garden design person who helped with her place in Waverley Street. I expect that the place will look quite different on my next visit.
We attended the wedding of Nick and Marlena. I thought the bride looked simply gorgeous and the groom wasn’t half bad either. They are planning a honey moon trip to New Zealand in about February next year. The wedding was a happy occasion where I found myself sitting next to a Kiwi who holds an academic position at Glasgow University. He was very interested in Restorative Justice so we had a long conversation and it turned out that he already knew Claire Lightowler who I met later in the week.
One evening, Nick and Maureen Sier came to dinner and we had plenty of time to chat and tell stories. Nick was able to use some of his practical building skills to help Barbara to fix the door on her new extension to the living room. the catch has not been engaging properly which made it very difficult for me to get in and out of the back door. Barbara has also been having trouble with a wasp nest behind the timber cladding of the extension. Eventually I called the Renfrewshire Council Offce and they sent out a pest eradicator man to spread pison for a mere 40GBP.
I went over to Edinburgh with Barbara a couple of times in order to attend events at the Festival. We had to make some difficult choices because of Barbara’s work commitments. We enjoyed a staged performance of Don Giovanni by an Italian company and concert performances of Die Walkure with rock concert appearances by Bryn Terfel, Christine Goereke and Simon O’Neill and Peter Grimes with Stuart Skelton in the lead role. We attended a cabaret evening called Meow, Meow and a play in two parts called Divide. The Festival is always such a feast of delights but we simply could not attend everything. We went to plays and concerts together and alone I attended Flight which was a sad tale about some children who escaped from their war torn homeland into dangerous and abusive situations as they attempted to find a safer place to live. I also went to recitals at the Queen’s Hall featuring on one occasion the oboist Francois Le Leur and on another the voice of Rene Pape.
I took the train to Edinburgh several times in order to fit in all the events that I wanted to attend. I stayed with Olwyn who was just starting back at work after a hip operation. She has recovered well from the surgery but unfortunately the other hip now needs to be replaced. We went together to see the play by Samuel Beckett called Krapp’s Last Tape. I knew nothing about the play in advance and found it rather hard work despite the good performance. We also went to a concert by Anoushka Shankar together but Olwyn became tired and left early. We went to see the Bonnie Prince Charlie exhibition at the National Museum of Scotland. This exhibition was so well curated and informative that I went back alone on another occasion to ensure that I had fixed all the events in my memory. If I had had enough time I would have seen it a third time as well.
Barbara and I drove through to the Pot Festival in Cumbria and it was just as interesting as the last time I attended. I was most impressed with a copy of a Celtic War Trumpet made in pottery to resemble metal. The Deskford carnyx was found in 1816 and is an example of fine craftsmanship and illustrates how music was used in those days. Modern archaeologists have been able to revive the voice of this ancient instrument. A hoard of such instruments were found at Tintignac in France so it appears that their use was widespread. The Romans used an image of the carnyx to represent the celtic tribes.
I was able to buy pottery gifts but resisted the temptation to buy a lot for myself despite the many beautiful items on offer. I came away with a pottery garlic grater that will grace my kitchen in the years ahead.
On 13 August we three celebrated Olwyn’s birthday with a lunch at a quirky little restaurant at the Port of Leith. The warehouses have been redeveloped as expensive looking apartments but the redecorated pub is still there. The food was wonderful and there were cocktails served in china teapots making a special atmosphere.
Barbara and I attended a post wedding celebration for one of her students who has married an Englishman. Jaleesa and David were surrounded by his family and their friends on this special occasion. Although the party was a small one we had a lovely afternoon together. I was delighted to be included and I had a long chat with David’s mother who was born in Wales. Some of the guests were from Barbara’s department at the University so she already knew a number of people. Jaleesa comes from USA and her family attended the actual wedding but did not stay for this function. I may get to meet them some other time.
Barbara and I flew from Glasgow to Dusseldorf and from there to Nuremburg. We hired a car and drove to Bayreuth where we stayed in an apartment hotel. We did our own catering and bought groceries at the Aldi supermarket across the road. The supermarket was next door to a bakery where we were able to have breakfast and coffee when we did not feel like making it ourselves. We were able to walk into town from the hotel. We found a most excellent chocolatier as well as a fresh pasta shop and a place selling various kinds of tea. There was also a good choice of restaurants and we sampled several of them.
The Festspielhaus was just a little too far for us to walk so for each performance we made a picnic and took it with us in the car. We ate our sandwiches in the park like surroundings as we watched the world go by. There are people from all around the world who enjoy Wagner. We saw Japanese people in kimonos as well as women in dirndls and men in felted jackets. There were people in full evening dress and others in more casual clothing. We strolled about on the terrace in the late afternoon sunshine until the brass fanfares summoned us into the theatre.
We enjoyed a performance of Parsifal as well as a whole Ring cycle produced by Castorf. We decided not to go to the opera talks each performance day. On reflection this may have been a mistake as the production made reference to a number of events in the recent history of Germany. We would probably have understood these better if we had some background knowledge. Some things were obvious and I was glad that I had spent some time in Berlin recently and I could appreciate the references to Alexanderplatz. The Norns wore costumes in the colours of the German flag (Red gold and black). In one scene crocodiles infested the stage and one of them tried to swallow the woodbird. The crocodiles came from the Neptune Fountain in Alexanderplatz. I bought a 2018 calendar with pictures of various scenes in the Ring to remind me of how much fun it had been.
We had a couple of spare days when there was no performance so we drove to Dresden and stayed at a hotel within easy walking distance of the Old Town. We left the car in the hotel yard and went across the road through a park and around the corner to a market where fruits and vegetables were being sold along with handicrafts. I saw a display of NZ grown Kiwifruit. We followed a lovely tree lined street ending at the bridge over the River Elbe. A golden equestrian statue representing Frederick Augustus I stood with its back to the old city.
The bridge was under repair during our visit so it was not so easy to appreciate the views. The city of Dresden was flattened by bombing during WWII and it has been rebuilt as nearly as possible to what had been there for many years. We did not see it exactly as it had appeared to Wagner but there was much to enjoy. Many of the buildings had been constructed using sandstone that was blackened during the incendiary bombing but no effort had been spared to put it all back together again.
We took a walking tour with a guide from India. Her English was excellent and since Barbara and I were the only customers we were able to ask all the questions we could think of. She was very informative about the history of the city. We admired a beautiful mural made of porcelain tiles and representing the history of the ruling family over the last 800 years. The original mural was made using an Italian technique involving scratching away a top coat of paint in a light colour to expose a darker colour underneath. The original mural did not survive being exposed to the elements but the tiles should last for ever.
We loved the rebuilt opera house topped by a lively portrayal of Dionysis and the Bacchae. The building had a rough stone cladding on the lower story and more classical proportions on the upper one. Along the front of the building were statues of great men of letters including Goethe and Schiller together with Shakespeare and Moliere. We could not go inside … that pleasure will have to await my next visit.
A highlight was a visit to the Frauenkirche. During the firebombing of Dresden this splendid church was reduced to rubble with only a few columns standing. The city authorities wanted to bulldoze the site and create a car park but the citizens refused to allow this to happen saying that the church was a war memorial and could not be razed to the ground. After Reunification the city applied to the former Allies for funding to rebuild the Frauenkirche and an extraordinary amount was collected. The church was painstakingly reconstructed using original stones where ever possible. As a result the building has a speckled appearance because there are burnt stones in amongst the new honey coloured sandstone blocks. The church is topped with a golden ornament gifted by the city of London. That ornament was made by a goldsmith who is the son of one of the bomber pilots.
Our guide pointed out that Dresden contributed to the rebuilding of Coventry Cathedral. I knew about the destruction of Dresden and also about the burning of Coventry Cathedral but it took a visit to the museum for me to appreciate the extent of the damage in other European cities. As we slowly made our way back over the bridge there was an oompah band playing in the sunset.
Dresden was so interesting and beautiful that I would love to return there one day. It was the scene of some of the early exploits of Richard Wagner. The great man was born in Leipzig and went to Dresden with his family when he was one year old. He went to school in Dresden and was influenced by the cultural life of the city that was encouraged by the King. Wagner moved back to Leipzig with his family in 1827. Some 15 years later he returned to Dresden with his first wife, Minna Planer. It was in Dresden that Wagner had his artistic breakthrough with the premier of “Rienzi”. He was involved in some of the revolutionary disturbances in 1849. He had to leave that city quickly in order to avoid arrest. He made his home in Paris and wandered around Europe for some years before eventually returning to Germany. He gave up politics and devoted himself to art. It was not until 20 years later that his work began appearing on the bill at Dresden Opera House.
The next day we visited the lovely town of Meissen where we climbed up to the Castle and visited the church on the hill. We discovered after finding a parking spot that we were not supposed to bring a car to the top of the hill. We cut short our visit to these historical places and descended to the town where we visited the famous porcelain factory. Porcelain was an important discovery. It was referred to as “white gold” and the secrets of its manufacture were jealously guarded. The original factory was in the castle but in time a new studio was established on lower ground. We took a tour of the factory and saw the process of throwing clay on a wheel before moulding cups and saucers and other items in an ancient method scarcely changed despite the passage of centuries. Artists moulded leaves and flowers using the soft paste that would eventually be fired to create beautiful objects to be loved and cherished by their eventual owners. These pieces would be hand painted and decorated before the final firing and many exquisite pieces were on display. It was hard to remain aloof as we eventually passed through the factory shop.
A special highlight of our visit was being able to view the beautiful porcelain statue known as "Saxonia: The Saxon Statue of Liberty". This masterpiece is a lifesized (1.80m) representation of a woman wearing an elaborate dress covered in handmade blossoms. It is a free standing piece and is said the be the largest in the world. It was manufactured to celebrate the 25th anniversary of Reunification.
On another of our free days we drove to the lovely city of Bamberg now a UNESCO World Heritage site. Bamberg miraculously escaped major damage during the bombings of WWII. It is located in northern Bavaria at the confluence of the Regnitz and Main Rivers. The Old Town preserves structures from the 11th to 19th centuries including the elaborately muralled Altes Rathaus (Town Hall) which occupies a rock in the Regnitz River. The Rathaus is reached by arched bridges.
There is a splendid Romanesque Cathedral built in the 13th century and featuring numerous stone carvings. There is a carving of a knight on horseback and it is thought that this may depict the Hungarian King Stephen I. The cathedral was founded by Heinrich II whose marble tomb is marked by carvings of himself and his wife the Empress Kunigunde. The carvings are considered masterpieces of Tilman Riemenschneider and were created between 1499 and 1513.
Kunigunde of Luxembourg was the daughter of Siegfried, Count of the Ardennes. She married Heinrich who was crowned king then became Holy Roman Emperor in1014. Kunigunde became Holy Roman Empress at the same time. She died in 1040 and was canonized by Pope Innocent III in 1200. As St Kunigunde she is patron of Franconia and is most popular as the patron saint of Bamberg. A statute of her stands on the bridge that gives access to the Rathaus.
Next to the Cathedral stands the Old Court where we sat in the sun under a tree to admire the building adorned with verandahs and many pots of red geraniums. We admired the walled rose garden on a terrace overlooking the town. It was all very beautiful.
On our final free day we drove into a scenic area known as Franconian Switzerland which stretches from Bamberg to Bayreuth and from Lichtenfels to Nurnberg. It is limestone country with three main rivers (the Main, the Pegnitz and the Regnitz), a network of caves and delightful little towns all set in beautiful scenery. We had such limited time to enjoy this area and had to make some difficult choices. We visited only one of the many caves … the Teufelshohle (Devil’s cave) near Pottenstein. We are accustomed to caves because we have similar limestone formations in New Zealand. The highlight of this cave was the guide who gave a commentary in German and English with much humour combined with the right amount of information and history. There were the usual rock formations built up over thousands of years and now lit imaginatively to suggest people or natural phenomena.
The so called Castle Road runs through this area linking 70 castles, palaces and fortresses some of which are now ruins, mostly built in the Middle Ages. The road runs between Mannheim and Prague so to do it justice would have required a lot more time than we had available. We chose to take a tour of the Rabenstein Castle which like many others stands on a rocky outcrop surrounded by forest. There were lovely views of the countryside as well as interesting exhibits where we lingered so long that we missed seeing the Birds of Prey flying at an adjacent location. We did manage to see some of the birds a bit later.
I think we could easily spend a week in the area but I cannot imagine when that will happen. We had to leave early the next day to fly back to Glasgow. My holiday was all but over.
I flew to Israel on 12 December 2017 to work at the Baha’I World Centre for three months. I was a Consultant to the Office for Israel Affairs which shares space in the historic building at 10 Haparsim Street with the Legal Department. The building was designed by Mason Remey in collaboration with Abdu’l-Baha. The well known photos of Abdu’l-Baha’s funeral procession departing from His house appear to have been taken from the roof of the unfinished building at Number 10. During its life the building has been the seat of the Universal House of Justice before the present accommodation was completed. Shoghi Effendi has his office in that building and would have lunch there with the Pilgrims. After the passing of the Guardian a number of the Hands of the Cause resided there and more recently it was the home of the International Teaching Centre.
I was very conscious of this history as I was allocated a shared work space on the lower floor. I sat next to a window that allowed me a view of a citrus tree with small orange coloured fruits. I had never seen anything quite like these fruits before. They had a distinctive shape. No one in the office knew what they were so eventually I looked them up on Wikipedia and discovered that they must be kumquats. There was an abundant crop so I hope that someone is using the fruits.
I quickly slipped into the routine at the office, going up the hill by car to the ITC building for lunch,, shopping at the Food Centre, dropping off my purchases at the Consultant Guest House where I was staying then walking the rest of the way down the Shifra Street Stairs to Haparsim Street.
I made frequent visits to the Shrine of the Bab which was just across the road from where I was staying. Less often I went out to Bahji to pray at the Shrine of Baha’u’llah. It was spring by the end of my visit and a great effort was being made to maintain the gardens. Everything will be looking wonderful for the International Election to be held in April. The special atmosphere of this event will be enhanced by the beauty of the gardens. .
Gardens are a feature of life at the Baha’I World Centre and there are many young people from all corners of the world who volunteer to work there. We were lucky to have a garden at 10 Haparsim Street and I even wandered around admiring the irises when I was in need of inspiration.
I was kept very busy during my time in Haifa and there was not much time to see anything outside the office. I did manage a visit to Caesarea on a very wet Saturday but since I was shopping for Israeli handcrafts, I did not spend any time looking at the countryside. Some other time I will be a tourist.
As the date of my departure for a new life in Haifa draws nearer I have been meeting up with old friends and taking my leave of familiar places. Abi McLaughlin came to stay for a few days and I was impressed with her independence and positive outlook on life. I was sorry to miss her family who were in NZ last year while I was in Scotland. Abi stayed on and has been working in Queenstown and is on her way to Australia but intends to return to NZ and do some travelling. I am not sure that I would have been up for such adventures at her age. We went to Waihi to look at the historical mining sites and on the way we stopped in the Karangahake Gorge. Another day we went to the Kereta Hill to admire the view.
I went out with Juliet and Alan for dinner and we promised to keep in touch. A special effort is needed to keep in touch with such old friends. I have known Juliet since we played together in the school orchestra at High School.
I was invited to dinner at the home of Suzanne and Kevin Mahon and lots of old friends attended. It was a delightful occasion and I was able to have good catch ups with lots of people at the one time.
On another occasion I went out for dinner with Tracey who has been such an important person in my life in recent years.
In between these social events I have been packing up the house and giving away items that I will not use again. I have been deciding what to take with me and giving away most of the rest. It is a strange experience to get rid of the trappings of a full life and start out afresh. I know that I will miss New Zealand but it is time to move away from the safe harbour to the open sea if I am to actually get anywhere.
Barbara came to visit and this was the time to fill the house with family and friends at the same time as I was gradually disposing of furniture and other things. It was very special to see everyone and to share stories and memories. I hope I will be able to remember some of these when I am far away.
The love of music and Wagner’s operas in particular has been a strong thread in the tapestry of my life. I hope it will be possible to continue this interest in my new place. As a last look back at the old days I decided to take the trip to San Francisco with the Wagner Society that I had planned so many months ago. In fact I paid the deposit and committed myself to this trip before deciding to move to Haifa. The opera trip was too close to my departure date and there was so much still to do in New Zealand that it was not sensible go to away again even for a short time.
Despite all these sensible and practical considerations, I had a wonderful trip to San Francisco. I had never been there before and I was delighted at how similar it felt to the familiar places of home. Of course it is a huge city with lots of people and since I was not familiar with the area I did not have enough knowledge about what to see. I crammed in a lot of experiences in between operas and I had an interesting and enjoyable visit.
We stayed at the Intercontinental Hotel where there were renovations under way but it was convenient and comfortable. My room had a spectacular view over the city and this allowed me to recognise the background scenery at the opera. Wotan was portrayed as a smart executive in a silver and black office with that same city scape visible from the huge windows portrayed in the set. We had a shuttle to take us to the opera house and on a sight seeing trip to Golden Gate Park.
The role of Wotan was filled to overflowing by Greer Grimsley who was a powerful and exciting Wotan. Other roles were Daniel Brenna as Siegfried, Falk Struckmann as Alberich, Irene Theorin as Brunnhilde and Karita Mattila and Brandon Jovanovich as the twins. They were all good and as usual I was carried away by the music.
The operas were produced by Francesca Zambello and conducted by Donald Runnicles so it was a splendid experience in a wonderful stately opera house. Although I have seen the operas many times now I still do not have the libretto by heart so I was thankful for the surtitles that were provided in small bites so I did not lose any of the action.
I enjoyed being with the Wagner Society members. Sydney Smith and her sister, Hillary, were an enthusiastic presence and after taking one meal in the hotel we mostly ate at Mel’s Diner, an American institution, just around the corner where we were greeted as heroes because of our daily visits. I took a bus ride one day to see the Painted Ladies, a row of 19th century wooden houses that have been lovingly preserved from earthquakes and urban renewal schemes. On another day I went to the art gallery nearby and I also visited the Jewish Museum. There was so much to see including the famous Golden Gate and Chinatown.
There was not enough time to see everything and eventually when I arrived home the pressure was on to get everything packed before my departure. I was very lucky to have help from friends or I would not have managed it all.
Just before Christmas a group of visitors arrived from Samoa and NZ to see family members working at BWC. I was invited to accompany them to Jerusalem early on a Friday morning. We set off by Sherut in the early light and arrived in Jerusalem mid morning. We picked up a guide and went first to the Mount of Olives for a view over the Holy City. In the distance from that vantage point we could see the famous Dome on the Rock that we saw again many times over the next 36 hours but we were not able to get up close to it.
This beautiful mosque is an artistic treasure but events of recent years have made it in accessible. This was especially true for my group as we had chosen to be in Jerusalem on a Friday which is the Moslem Holy Day. We were warned away by armed soldiers as we approached through the souk so I contented myself with photos of the dome from various places. It is a dominant feature of the landscape as are many places holy to Jews and Christians.
We stayed overnight at a hostel outside the Old City and ate out at a fabulous Ethiopian Restaurant where the food was delicious and the continuous DVDs of cultural music and dancing most entertaining. We walked from the hostel to the restaurant and when we came outside again we found ourselves in a continuous stream of worshippers returning from a synagogue somewhere out of sight behind the honey coloured walls.
Saturday was not such a good day to be in Jerusalem either as we were unable to see the Chagall tapestries at the Knesset. I will go back there some other times to see the art galleries and museums. We were able to visit the Church of All Nations where we admired beautiful mosaics telling the story of Christ’s arrest and martyrdom. Next door to the church is the Garden of Gethsemene where many of these events are said to have taken place. Just a step or two away was an Armenian Church where we enjoyed the traditional choral music. Across the road we had a view of the city walls and the Kidron Valley.
We were also able to visit the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and to walk along part of the Via Dolorosa. There were so many stories that came back to life from my days at Sunday School and Bible Classes. Although I visited Jerusalem with Barbara about 37 years ago and saw many of these places, I had the sense that a lot of things had changed since then.
I was interested to see the hotel where Abdu’l-Baha stayed in Nazareth. I know Abdu’l-Baha visited Nazareth a number of times most notably on the occasion that he confronted Djemal Pasha at the home of a notable at that town. Abdu’l-Baha made the arduous journey in His carriage which did not look very comfortable in the photos that I have seen, and stayed overnight at the Germania Hotel. This Western style accommodation was built for tourists by the Templers who lived in a settlement near Abdu’l-Baha’s home in Haifa. The Templers had another settlement at a place called Wilhelmina near Nazareth so they built a road and operated carriages to assist their own families as well as building up the tourist trade.
I travelled by sherut to Nazareth which was a lot bigger than I had expected. The town is situated on a hill with a lot of modern buildings. It looks quite prosperous. It is the largest city in the Northern District of Israel and is known as the Arab Capital of Israel. In 2017 its population was 76,551. Its inhabitants are mostly Arab citizens of Israel and according to the 2017 figures, 69% are Muslim and 30.9% are Christian. Upper Nazareth was declared a separate city in June 1974. The Jewish population of the area is concentrated in the Upper Nazareth area.
Nazareth is believed to be the childhood home of Jesus and there are many stories associated with the old town and its surroundings. It is a place of Christian pilgrimage. The domed Basilica of the Annunciation is said to be built over the spot where the Angel Gabriel told Mary that she would bear a son. St. Joseph’s Church is said to be the site of Joseph’s carpentry shop. The underground Synagogue Church is said to be the place where Jesus studied and prayed. We were able to visit some of these sites as well as seeing the Hotel Germania which is now called the Galilee Hotel.
The German Commander in Chief during WWI, Otto Liman van Sanders, had his headquarters at the same hotel. The British Army advanced so rapidly that Liman was still in bed when the first British soldiers arrived in September 1918. Fortunately or unfortunately depending on who is telling the story, Liman escaped in his pyjamas.
The hotel has changed a lot since those days although some parts of it are original. The duty manager seemed happy to show us around although we had arrived unannounced. We drank coffee in the upstairs lounge and speculated about what facilities wold have been available to Abdu'l-Baha.
The Basilica of the Annunciation is an imposing looking modern building. We were told that the Byzantine church is still standing but we did not go there. The place that we visited had a large enclosed yard with a cloister decorated with panels showing the Madonna and Child in the costume of different countries. Inside the church it was dim and quiet with beautiful windows in a modern style. We filed past a grotto in the basement level. This was the spot where the Angel spoke to Mary. it is a very holy place and it receives many visitors.
After leaving Nazareth we called in at a place called the Herb and Spice Farm where a huge variety of condiments were on sale. I was happy to find some of the Morrocan spices that I used back home. We stayed only a short time as other members of the party wanted to visit Bahji.
I flew to Germany on Lufthansa to meet the other members of my tour group arranged by Renaissance Tours. This time there were 12 participants and the tour leader, Scott Curry. Unfortunately several tour participants had to cancel at the last moment so the group was smaller than expected. There was one other Kiwi and two sisters from UK who have lived in Australia for many years. I met the others at the Intercontinental Hotel on Konigs Allee where we were all accommodated comfortably. After a briefing about the plans, a welcome dinner at the hotel and a good night’s sleep, the routine activities of the tour began on 13 June.
The tour was anything but routine as we saw different places each day. We began with a talk by Scott illustrated by themes played on an upright piano. He explained what we were going to hear that night and spiced up his presentation with stories. We took a walk around the Old Town led by James who is also an opera singer. Konigs Allee is a boulevard lined with trees and a canal in the middle. It is a principal shopping street with many international fashion house shops on either side of the street. We were shown the sights including picturesque lanes and churches, museums and cafes. There were a lot of things to keep us busy.
During the afternoon I walked around in the neighbourhood of the hotel but not too much as we attended our first opera, “Das Rheingold”, that night. The Opera House is close to the hotel and we walked there together through the warm evening. We had excellent seats on the Parterre where I had a good view of the stage. Unfortunately I felt that the voices of the singers taking the roles of Donner and Froh were weak and colourless. The other voices were excellent and Deutsche Oper has done a marvellous job bringing the Ring to a small house in Dusseldorf. The theatre has a proscenium arch which was lit up in rainbow colours to represent the entry into Valhalla and was also a useful frame for the safety curtain that was raised during a subsequent performance to reveal Mime’s Forge. The director was Dietrich Hilsdorf. Stage design was managed by Dieter Richter and costume design by Renate Schmitzer.
The principal singers were
Wotan Simon Neal
Loge Norbert Ernst
Fricka Renee Morloc
Alberich Michael Kraus
Mime Cornel Frey
Fasolt Bogdan Talos
Fafner Thorsten Grumbel
The production played up the loving relationship between Fasolt and Freia. I had never seen this done before and there were mixed reactions in our group. Once person described the Freia character as demonstrating the Stockholm Syndrome. We have had several discussions in the group about the extent to which a director should introduce new ideas not supported by the text. Not everyone was in favour of great directorial license.
We were all mystified by the opening scene where the Loge character sat on the stage with a glass of wine and sang “Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten…”( the opening line of the German language poem of ‘The Lorelei’) but eventually we agreed that he was trying to emphasise that the action of the operas is a fairy story.
On the second day we walked around the block to visit the Heinrich Heine Institute for a guided tour through his manuscripts and letters. My German was not good enough to read very much but I learned that Heine composed the song that I learned at school under the name of “The Lorelei”. The song is so well embedded in German culture that it could not be erased by the Nazis who hated it because Heine was Jewish. According to the Nazis the song was a folk melody of unknown origin. Heine was born in 1797 and is chiefly known today for his early lyrical poetry that became Lieder with assistance from Schumann and Schubert.
The next day Scott gave a pre performance talk that included a rehearsal session with a singer who is performing as one of the Valkyries. She is learning the role of Sieglinde and the aria chosen for this occasion was the one where Sieglinde is introducing herself to Siegmund. She went over the material line by line as Scott played the piano and discussed how she could make her performance stand out. I could see the difference by the time they finished and I think she will do well.
Later in the morning we visited Schloss Benrath, a “pleasure palace” built for Elector Carl Theodore close to the Rhine south of Dusseldorf. The Elector never lived in this beautiful house as he was usually resident in Mainz but the rooms were decorated and furnished so that he could arrive at any time. Nowadays the house is owned by the state and people pay to peep at a lifestyle that can scarcely be imagined today. After the tour we walked through the park to a restaurant called “The Linden Tree” where we enjoyed a relaxed meal with attentive service and wonderful food. It is the season for the local delicacy of white asparagus so I chose that for a most delicious main course.
That night we attended a Lieder concert performed by Norbert Ernst and Stephen Harrison. The concert consisted entirely of poems written by Goethe and set by Wolf. It was a rare treat and a most delightful evening. The art of Lieder seems to be losing favour with the concert going public. The concert was held in the foyer of the opera house and the audience was small but the voice and piano were wonderful. I loved the way the pianist appeared to smile in all the difficult parts of the music.
We explored the Media Hafen area near the harbour. Scott pointed out the proposed location for the new opera house but I thought the area was too small and the construction would result in the loss of the walking trails as well as the marina. I did not climb up the viewing tower as I was more interested in seeing the Frank Gehry buildings at ground level. We had a coffee in the sunshine but there was not much else going on as it was a Sunday after all.
The opera performances became more dramatic as the cycle continued. “Die Walkure” lived up to its promises starting with a dramatic storm and carrying on to the fiery resting place for Brunnhilde. The consensus was that the voices were excellent and everything else went well. There were no English surtitles but by now I know the story well enough to follow the action through the music. Once again it was a great experience but the production was quite unlike San Francisco.
On 17 June we travelled by coach to Brussels stopping along the way at the beautiful, historic town of Monschau, for lunch. The town is close to the border between Germany and Belgium and is set in a steep sided valley. It is known for narrow cobbled streets and half timbered houses. It is a quiet and picturesque place that was once the home of a booming weaving industry. A number of former factories have survived two world wars and have been recently transformed into car parking buildings to eliminate traffic in the town centre. A castle looms over the town where an open air music festival is held every year. There is a handsome Red House that was completed in 1768 as the home of the cloth manufacturer, Johann Friedrich Scheibler. Today it is a museum. Very few people actually live in Monschau now as it is mostly a tourist place. We lunched at a hotel beside the river that once turned the mill wheels. There were lovely old buildings to admire and a Protestant church built for seven families as they could not worship with Catholics.
In Brussels we stayed in the Radisson Blu Hotel which was conveniently located near the opera house but it was not as comfortable as the Intercontinental. We were told that the building is to be extensively renovated by new Chinese owners to attract Chinese tourists. We walked around to orientate ourselves, spent a half day at the Museum of Musical Instruments and I rode around the town on a Hop On Hop Off bus tour as there was insufficient time to see everything. Unfortunately there were some rain showers but not enough to dampen enthusiasm. Dinner at a nearby restaurant was a splendid affair. The building was originally a bank and had beautiful glass ceilings. The food was also very good.
On our first night we attended a Chanson Concert in the La Monnaie Opera House to hear Michele Losier, mezzo-soprano with Olivier Godin on piano, performing works by Bizet, Franck, Gounod, Massenet and Saint-Saens. French songs are quite different in style from Lieder and the best explanation is given by Anna Russell. It was, however, a very enjoyable evening and a delightful prelude to the opera the following night.
We attended a performance of “The Tale of Tsar Saltan” by Rimsky-Korsakov in Russian with Dutch and French surtitles. I did not understand much of what was going on but I did understand that a wandering boy saw an eagle attacking a swan. He killed the eagle and of course the swan turned out to be a beautiful princess with magical powers. When the boy got lonely she turned him into a bumble bee so that he could fly around and see what he wanted in his own time. The opera is the source of the famous piece of music called “The Flight of the Bumble Bee”. I know the music but I did not know that it came from this opera. I had not heard of the opera before but I just loved the production. I did not know that Rimsky-Korsakov wrote so many operas as they are not performed often in the West. It would have helped me a lot to have surtitles in English but it is not possible to do everything.
We returned to Dusseldorf on the same bus. It was a large coach painted in the colours of a well known football team from Cologne. I noticed that around Dusseldorf the coach was recognised and tooted by other motorists and even pedestrians acknowledged it. They obviously thought that we were team members but they were not looking carefully as we were collectively too old to be players. We did not need such a large conveyance but it was very comfortable and our drivers were very careful and efficient.
The performance of “Siegfried” was also exciting. I love this music so if the orchestra is good and the singers are on form, I am generally happy. Sometimes as in Gotterdammerung the production details get in the way. For some reason the producer/director decided to put a ferry boat on stage and this became the Gibichung Hall as well as the venue for the immolation scene. The ferry boat crowded the stage making it seem even smaller and it was definitely not the appropriate scene for the action of the final opera. For me this just did not work.
Between Siegfried and Gotterdammerung we had two free days. On the first of these we took a day trip to Cologne where I did a small amount of shopping before we took a tour around the beautiful and historic cathedral. The cathedral is dedicated to the three wise men who came from the East to visit the Christ child. A large golden sarcofagas inside a wrought iron cage holds the remains of these men and many people come to venerate these precious relics.
After the cathedral we went next door to the Ludwig Museum to see the collection of Picasso sculptures and ceramics. This is the largest collection of Picasso's work outside of Spain so we were very lucky to have the opportunity to view the exhibition. I did not know before this visit that Picasso made ceramic items at all. There was not much time to admire it all as we huried to a meal and a performance of "Fantasio" by Offenbach whom Scott described as the Gilbert and Sullivan of his time. The opera was light and comic and lots of fun. Such a contrast to Wagner.
The following day we went out to lunch at a small hotel on the outskirts of Bonn where we had an excellent meal with views of the Rhine and the boat traffic going up and down. The hotel is a wedding venue and while we were lunching there was a wedding party on the terrace outside. The room next to our lunch place had been set up for a wedding reception with balloons and other decorations. We left before that wedding group arrived. It was a lovely place for lunch but would also be suitable for small conferences or other meetings.
That afternoon we intended to visit Drachenfels, the cave where legend has it that the confrontation took place between Siegfried and the Dragon Fafner. We had timed tickets but the queue was so huge and moved so slowly that we eventually abandoned the planned visit and went to the town square in Bonn where we drank coffee and watched the world go by. It was disappointing but it would have taken at least two hours before we got onto the cog train and probably at least that time waiting to come down again. It all got too much and I was very glad to get out of the crowd.
All too soon it was the last day. We went by coach to a splendid restaurant on the riverbank where the tables were laid on the terrace and the food was to die for. The road to the restaurant was too narrow for the bus so we walked the last 300 m to Restaurant Landhaus Monchenwerth. We were early so we had a few moments to look at the view before ordering. The warm hospitality was a treat and I was delighted with everything. It was the sort of place where the guests are family and we were expected to enjoy leisurely conversations between courses. We would have been happy to do that but we had time against us as we had to get ready for our final opera. It was a shame to hurry through the dessert. I would have liked to stay another hour at least.
In the event we arrived back at the hotel in good time and reached the opera house before the doors closed. Afterwards we stopped at the Steigenberger Park Hotel located just around the corner from the Opera House. There was no room on the terrace so we sat inside for coffee and post mortems. We were late getting back to our hotel and I did not have much time in bed as I had to catch the 5.30 am train to Frankfurt. The sun rose blood red as we sped by the valleys and farms. This was my last view of Germany for a while.
I met Barbara at the Airport and we took a taxi to the Air B&B that we had chosen at Cavour Street in the Old City near the Duomo. We were met by the hosts who helped me up the stairs with my bag. Barbara’s suitcase did not arrive at the same time as she did, so after a good night’s sleep and a quick trip to a grocery store to buy breakfast things including coffee and an equally quick visit to the tourist information office we sheltered from the rain at the B&B to await the arrival of the errant suitcase. Needless to say it did not appear until the following day but we used our time well to plan our activities for our 14 day visit. There was a lot to do and even with such a long visit, we could not manage everything.
We did a lot of walking. On our first day we walked through the Boboli Garden past the Pitti Palace. The gardens are an extensive historical park first opened to the public in 1766. The landscape was designed for the Medici family as a pleasure garden. It represents one of the first examples of the “Italian Garden” and the style was copied around Europe. The lavish garden has open areas that are filled with sculptures of various styles from different periods. There are caves and fountains but we were not visiting at the right time to see flowers. There was no natural water source so an elaborate pump and irrigation system was created to channel water from the River Arno.
The Pitti Palace was the seat of the Medici grand dukes in Tuscany. It faces the gardens where a double ramp leads up to the Fountain of Neptune. There are beautiful views of the city and in summer the 111 acres are thronged with visitors. Since we were visiting in winter there were not so many tourists and visitors.
We went on to visit the Basilica of San Miniato al Monte. This picturesque church is located on a high point above the city from where we had magnificent views of other places that we would later visit. The basilica is in the Romanesque style with a beautiful mosaic dating from 1297 of Christ standing between the Virgin and St Minias. The exterior is decorated with geometric designs in marble. According to the tourist information the façade may have been started around 1090 and there were additions in the 12th century. There is a monastery next door and the inevitable gift shop which was closed during our visit.
The weather forecast indicated that it would be sunny on Wednesday so we set off by bus to visit Siena. It was a one hour trip through hilly countryside to the UNESCO listed Old City. We wandered through the narrow streets coming at last to the Piazza del Campo, a shell shaped town square, home of the Town Hall and several modern looking fountains. Every year there is a horse race around part of the Piazza del Campo but we did not see any sign of it. Rather than visit churches and historic homes we sat in the sun at a comfortable restaurant and watched the world go by. As a result we missed seeing the art works at the museum. We did not visit any of the famous churches or other landmarks so I may have to go back there one day.
We took the bus back to Florence and spent the early evening at the German Christmas Market where people were buying gifts and consuming sausages. There were many interesting things to try and it was a good place to find unusual items to take home. Barbara took advantage of the opportunity and I regret that I did not. On subsequent days we visited the produce market and the district where you can buy leather goods. There were some lovely well made and colourful items that took my attention. I enjoyed trying to talk to the leather workers and learned how to distinguish the genuine hand made leather articles from the mass produced ones. Although I did not realise that I needed one, I bought a leather coat as well as two pairs of gloves that I was expecting to acquire. Barbara bought a very smart looking bag to carry her computer.
We visited the splendid Medici palace located less than a block from our B&B. A highlight was the Magi chapel used by the family. The walls were almost entirely covered by frescoes painted in 1459 by the Renaissance master, Benozzo Gozzoli. Each wall represented a different king travelling towards Bethlehem through different countryside accompanied by a throng of people including Medici family members and other notables of Florence and the surrounding area. The painter even included his own likeness amongst the crowd. All of the people were splendidly dressed in their holiday clothes. There was a choir of angels in attitudes of adoration in the apse under a gilded and inlaid wooden ceiling. The floor was an elaborately patterned art work with geometric designs made of expensive materials such as granites and porphyries that must have been intended to rival the magnificence of the basilicas in Rome.
The frescoes were all subtle and complex in design with exquisite craftsmanship seen not just in the clothing worn by the people but in the gorgeous caparison of the horses, the trees laden with fruit, the meadows spangled with flowers, the variegated plumage of the birds and even the different colours in the angels’ wings. The paintings included jewels and an application of gold leaf that would shine in the candle light.
On the west wall the oldest Magus, Melchoir, leads the procession. The middle king, Balthasar, is riding a white horse on the south wall. The youngest king brings up the rear also on a white horse across the east wall. The procession does not actually reach the nativity. The frescoes are all about the journey with representations of many secular pursuits such as hunting in rich Tuscan landscapes. A distant city represents Jerusalem where King Herod instructed the wise men to go out and look for the child. The frescoes are designed like contemporary tapestries to please wealthy patrons. I could hardly tear myself away.
A totally different exhibition in the same building featured back and white photos of Pablo Picasso at various stages of his life, at work in his studio, at the bull fight, relaxing with his wife, playing with the children. The photos by Edward Quinn were candid and yet so beautifully constructed that the great man seemed to be breathing. The collection was a magnificent reminder of the skill and artistry that is necessary to capture a worthwhile image.
We visited the Uffizi gallery and were overwhelmed by the many art works. We lunched outside with the Palazzo Vecchio in the background. It was cold so we did not linger. The Palazzo Vecchio is the Town Hall with a tower and crenellated walls. It is a hugely impressive building and overlooks the Piazza della Signoria where there is a copy of the famous David statue. We also saw the real statue whose magnificence is beyond my power to describe.
The Piazza della Signoria is an L - shaped square that is a popular meeting place for locals and visitors. Despite the rain during our visit it was always thronged with people visiting the nearby museums and cultural points. It has been the central square of Florence since Roman times when it was surrounded by a theatre, a bath house and a workshop for dyeing textiles. Later there was a church in honour of San Romolo, a loggia and a huge 5th century basilica. There was even a Neolithic site. This colourful history was learned from archaeological remains discovered when the square was repaved in the 1980s. There is a round marble plaque in front of the Neptune fountain, marking the spot where Savonarola was hanged and burned on 23 May, 1498.
We each purchased a ticket that would allow us to visit 4 areas of the Duomo within 72 hours. This was not particularly difficult. The ticket was extraordinarily good value allowing us into the Duomo museum and the crypt as well as the Baptistry and the Dome. We did not have to wait long in contrast to the pressure on these places at the height of the tourist season. The views were marvellous and the Baptistry was extremely beautiful. Traditionally penitents would be baptised then walk the short distance to the Duomo through an area known as Paradise.
When we were there a jeep was always parked nearby with well armed soldiers keeping peace on earth. There was a heavy police presence as well with uniformed personnel patrolling around the Duomo and the nearby shopping area under the Christmas lights, past the decorated tree and the crib. There were jolly shoppers swirling around. We had a hot chocolate in a nearby café and on one occasion we had a full afternoon tea. Very civilised.
Each of the streets radiating out from the Duomo had a different configuration of lights so we were able to find our way around. Cavour Street had silver stars. Other streets had crescent moons or dangling lights like rain. It was quite cool so I did not hang about to enjoy the lights for long.
On the other day when sunny weather was predicted we took a train trip to Pisa and Lucca. We had to change trains at Pisa and there was a two hour wait so we walked to the famous leaning tower. As we crossed the Arno we came upon a small Gothic gem of a church called Santa Maria della Spina. It took its name from a thorn spine from Christ’s Crown that was preserved there. The building was originally an oratory built in 1230 but has undergone many changes over the years. It had been built on the river bank but it was damaged by floods. In 1871 the building was dismantled and raised above the water level. A number of structural changes were made and the holy relic was moved to a safer place.
We carried on to see the tower and resisted the idea of climbing it. I saw some people at the top of the tower but I thought I might fall off. There was a statue of Icarus to remind us of the dangers of not keeping our feet on the ground.
We returned to the station and took the train to Lucca which is known for its well preserved Renaissance walls circling the old city. There are tree lined paths atop the walls where we strolled to look at the views. Casa di Puccini where the great composer was born is now a house museum but we did not call in there. The town was founded by the Etruscans and became a Roman colony in 183BC. The Piazza San Michele occupies the Forum and there are traces of the Roman Amphitheatre still visible.
It was sunny but cool so we wandered around looking at the scenery until it was time to catch the train back to Florence. A full moon followed us and we could see snow capped hills.
While we were in Florence the city celebrated the 50th anniversary of the moon landing. There were light shows on the exterior of some buildings but the one that I liked the best was in the court yard of the Medici Palace where some art students had made movies showing parts of the wonderful frescoes. The film maker had somehow created movement where the horses were walking and the whole building came to life with these ideas as people and animals appeared to be walking around the walls of the courtyard. I could have watched for a lot longer but it was too cold. Another effective light show was projected on to the side of the Ponte Vecchio showing waves of colour symbolising the movement of the river as well as pictures of a full moon rising. It was very effective.
There were plenty of museums to keep us enthralled. The da Vinci Museum featured wooden models of some of the great man’s inventions. It was an interactive museum where visitors could turn handles and watch things working. There was also an excellent movie about his life and work. We visited the Archaeological Museum and the Galileo Museum. There was so much to see but the telescopes and scientific instruments designed by Galileo were spectacular.
We were lucky to have plenty of time in the museums but ultimately there were other things that we did not manage to see. I was amazed that we spent our whole time in the old city without getting tired of the place. There was enough variety to keep us actively looking for more. I would be happy to make a return trip any time.
At last the holidays arrived and I set off early in the morning with two neighbours to spend a few days in a different environment. We avoided the heavy traffic and drove on good quality well marked roads to the Holy City of Tiberias … one of four cities holy to Jews (Jerusalem, Safed, Hebron and Tiberias) because of the work that was done by the sages to codify Jewish law. The city is also special for Christians because of the ministry of Jesus Christ. There are many Bible stories about the Galilee region and the Sea of Galilee in particular.
Marla Thomas arrived separately and joined in our exploring. We visited the Tomb of Maimonides which is located in an older part of the town surrounded by dilapidated buildings. Since it is a place of pilgrimage it is open 24 hours a day and visitors must wear modest clothing. There were separate sections for men and women to offer prayers without being distracted by each other. There were a number of graves of holy and learned men under a pyramid of beams that announced the presence of the tomb to any visitors who could not find the way. There was a tranquil atmosphere but I missed the gardens that I expect in holy places.
We carried on to the Bahá’í cemetery at Ein Gev. There were no signs to help us find the spot but when we were on the correct road I recognised the dirt tack leading to the cemetery. We were able to drive up to the gate and let ourselves into the place where the faithful half brother of Bahá’u’lláh (Mohammad Quli) is resting with his family. The cemetery overlooks the extensive banana plantations of Kibbutz Ein Gev. I remembered that ‘Abdu’l-Bahá had introduced the cultivation of bananas in this area and that the Jewish settlers came to His farm at Adasiyyih to buy banana plants to establish this unfamiliar fruit on their own land. When bananas were first grown in this area the people did not know how to eat them, and the fruit was not popular. People did not enjoy the tough yellow skins. Eventually someone showed the locals how to peel the bananas and to consume the soft fruit inside. We saw that a large area was producing this crop and I know there are always bananas in the shops in Haifa.
The cemetery lies on a slope at the foot of the Golan Heights. The graves were well tended but the ground was very dry. There were no gardens but the hedgerows were ablaze with red and orange bougainvillea. The cemetery is cared for by the Gardens Department at BWC and although the familiar gardens and paths are absent, it is still a tranquil location. I feel that it is important to visit the place at least once a year in order to maintain a clear claim to this land. This cemetery is not the original resting place of Mohammad Quli and his family. They were originally interred closer to the shore but when the kibbutz was established it became harder to gain access and the land became overgrown. At length it was agreed that the graves would be moved to a new location where the presence of a cemetery would not interfere with the farming work. The new cemetery was dedicated in 1988 in the presence of members of the House of Justice and Hands of the Cause including Ruhiyyih Khanum.
On our way back to Tiberias we stopped for lunch at an Arab restaurant where we ordered salads for three people although we were four in number. There was so much food that we did not make much of a dent in it. There would have been a lot more wastage if we had ordered salads for four. The salads were fresh and delicious and I could eat like this all the time.
Eventually we made our way to the historic Scots Hotel where we had made bookings. The lobby did not seem very crowded but we were expected to wear masks and to produce our vaccination certificates. Marla and I were allocated separate rooms on the fifth floor of the new building while Sammi and Susan shared a room on the third floor. Their idea was to wake each other up early to return to Haifa.
The hotel was once a hospital, established and funded by the Church of Scotland, to serve the local people as part of the Church’s missionary work. The 19th century original buildings were constructed of black basaltic stone with red tile roofs. The site chosen was on the lakeshore where the hospital received the fresh air and the daily cooling wind change. There was a house built for the doctor, along with an operating theatre and a maternity annexe. The operating theatres later become the maternity wing from 1949 to 1956 and today the building is a restaurant named the Torrance Restaurant after the first doctor to serve there.
These original buildings were extended in 2004 to become a modern international hotel. A new five story accommodation wing has been constructed out of the honey coloured stone that is the most common building material in this region. A road runs from the shopping precinct of Tiberias to an industrial area past the hotel. At some point a swimming pool was constructed across the road towards the lake. This can be accessed by an arched pedestrian bridge and a stairwell for the energetic or a lift for those who are not. The atmosphere of comfort and tranquillity is pervasive. In fact the facilities are called the Scots Hotel and Wellness Centre.
Next to the swimming pool another black stone building contains a gym and two separate businesses providing such spa treatments as massages, facials, pedicures and manicures. A sign at the entrance to this building proclaims that it was constructed in 1896 as an orphanage for children of all religious backgrounds. There was a school downstairs (where I enjoyed a massage) and accommodation upstairs. It is known as the Eliza Reid Centre and I assume that it is also owned by the Church of Scotland.
Marla and I met for breakfast at 8 am and enjoyed a plentiful and varied meal from the buffet. We spent the whole of the day sitting under a jasmine covered gazebo with our books, looking across the lake to the hills on the other side. As night fell we saw the lights of the villages scattered along the horizon. There were some villages at the lake edge presumably including the kibbutz Ein Gev but I was not able to identify it clearly. All day the surface of the lake kept changing colour as light breezes ruffled the surface. The jacaranda dropped its purple rain on to the grass and the bougainvillea was a riot of colour. At 7 pm we went back to the buffet for a variety of salads as well as salmon, sea bass, shellfish salad and chicken.
For the next few days we alternated between the delights of the garden and the swimming pool. We went out to visit various places but mostly they were still closed. We hoped to visit the Druze Shrine of Nabi Shu’ayb, the burial site of the biblical Jethro, near Kfar Zeitim, but the guard did not consider that our holiday clothes were suitable attire for a place of pilgrimage. We stopped at the village of Magdala to see the archaeological work. The church was closed but we were able to wander around the dig to contemplate the long history of settlement in this locality. At this site was found the oldest synagogue in Israel with an extraordinary carved stone table for holding the scrolls of the Torah. We went to the Church of the Primacy of Peter (traditionally the spot where Christ confirmed Peter as His successor) but the sign on the gate read “Closed Until Further Notice”. We also tried to find Hamat Tiberias National Park which is known for its restored mosaics but we missed it somehow. We went several times to a souvenir shop but it was usually closed until the morning of our departure.
During our 5 days at the hotel the number of guests gradually increased. When we went to the restaurant we were expected to wear our face masks and plastic gloves to prevent contamination of the food. It is clear that people are taking great care not to compromise safety in these last days of the pandemic. Although we did not do a lot it was a truly marvellous break away from office routines and I would be happy to return there any time.
Ten of us set off in a sherut driven by Abboud for a weekend in the desert. The whole trip was organised by Diana Metreaud and it had to be postponed due to Covid and then again due to the war but when the day arrived, three couples and four single women set out on an adventure. Abboud picked us up at 7 am and we headed south on the motorway through Tel Aviv to Beer Sheva where we made our first stop.
On 31 October 1917 there was a fierce battle for Beer Sheva where the ANZAC troops made a cavalry charge to drive out the Turks. It was the last such charge in modern warfare. Already the battles in Flanders had rendered the horse drawn artillery obsolete. Machine guns won against swords and lances carried by the cavalry. The Commonwealth War Graves Commission provides a well-kept resting place for over 1200 soldiers who did not go home. Across the road a museum housed ANZAC memorabilia but unfortunately there was no time to look around inside.
The cemetery was in the middle of town or so it seemed. It was a quiet spot amidst the traffic. I realised that this was not the place where the cavalry charge happened. We saw the battleground later that morning when we visited Tel Beer Sheva which is one of three Biblical Tels: Megiddo, Hazor and Beer Sheva. All of these were designated UNESCO World Heritage sites in 2005. It is part of the network of National Parks so I renewed my subscription to the National Park Trust as it is my intention to visit as many of the listed sites as possible. About 18 hectares around the mound were excavated in 1969 to 1976 revealing a system of walls and gates along with public and residential buildings, a storehouse, water systems, a Governor’s house and a watch tower.
The Tel is situated east of the modern city of Beer Sheva in the centre of a wide valley near the confluence of the Beer Sheva and Hebron streambeds. There was no surface water but the ancients dug wells and used the streambeds as passageways through the region. The area was easy to traverse on foot and was a convenient route from the Dead Sea to the Mediterranean and from the Sinai and Negev to the central and northern areas of the country.
The remains of the earliest settlement at Tel Beer Sheva date from the fourth millennium BCE (the Chalcolithic period). Finds from this period include sherds but no architectural remains. Evidence of numerous settlements from this period was located along the river beds. After a gap pf 2000 years at the end of the second millennium BCE (the Iron Age also known as the Israelite period) settlement on the mound was renewed and thereafter was occupied continuously for 500 years. Excavators identified nine different strata indicating different stages in the building and destruction of the site. Grain was stored in pits that can still be seen. A deep well near the city gate may also date from this period. Later in the 10th century BCE, stone dwellings were built using a four room design. Many similar settlements were found elsewhere in the Beer Sheva Valley indicating a wave of habitation due to a temporary increase in rainfall.
The first fortified settlement was built at the beginning of the ninth century. By this period the town was one of the most important administrative centres of the Kingdom of Judah. In the 8th century the fortifications were redesigned and extensive storehouses were built near the main gate and the water system. It is thought that the earlier fortified city was destroyed in an earthquake. Other structures were added until the city was moved during the Roman and Byzantine period to a location near the present day city of Beer Sheva.
During World War I, Beer Sheva served as a staging ground for the Ottoman Turkish army which was preparing to attack the Suez Canal. When the British army advanced from Egypt, the Turks placed a cannon on the Tel. From the Tel, the scene of the 1917 ANZAC cavalry charge was clearly visible. I assume that soldiers had to climb up the Tel – 20 m above the valley floor - to silence the Turkish guns.
Our visit started beside a reconstructed replica of the large sacrificial four horned altar whose stones were discovered incorporated into the storehouse wall. The original altar is on display at the Israel Museum in Jerusalem. The presence of the altar indicates that the city was part of a religious administration of the Judean monarchy. Its dismantling and burial indicates a change in the kingdom’s religious practices. According to the Bible, the abolition of the religious site was connected to reforms instituted by King Hezekiah (2Kings 16:20 – 20:21. 2Chronicles 28:27 – 32: 33)
We walked up the slope to an oval shaped site. A shade structure on the eastern side stood near the main gate. Also in this location was a story board about the battle in 1917. There was a deep well outside the main gate serving the citizenry as well as passing commercial and military caravans. Some scholars have suggested that this well is the one mentioned in the book of Genesis in connection with the alliance between Abraham and Isaac with the Philistines. Surplus rainwater was drained through a channel to a reservoir on the slope in order to prevent damage to the walls. The main gate was a complex arrangement of towers with plastered chambers on each side. In these rooms elders, merchants and judges conducted their business. There was a square where people could gather and a residential quarter where houses of uniform design were built against the casemate wall.
The governor’s palace was a substantial structure with an entrance corridor and two paved halls in the ceremonial wing as well as residential units, a kitchen and a storeroom. The observation tower gave a good view of the whole town as well as of the surrounding countryside. The storehouse was about 600 square metres in area with three long halls where hundreds of pottery vessels were found in the ruins. Food products were stored here and there was a wide passage for caravans of donkeys laden with supplies.
The most amazing thing was the water system. In the desert water is essential for men and animals so a system was part of the fortifications. The system consisted of three parts:
· A shaft 17 m deep lined with stones with a flight of steps along its side.
· A plastered reservoir with a capacity of about 700 cubic metres.
· A winding feeder channel that led flood waters from the Hebron streambed into the reservoir
The system was built to serve the inhabitants of the city in time of siege but the well at the main gate met their ordinary daily needs. The water system became blocked at the end of the Hellenistic period due to an earthquake. It is possible to walk through the water system and some of the party did this but I stayed outside.
We had a picnic lunch outside the desert home of Israel’s first Prime Minister, David Ben Gurion. The simple dwelling is located at Kibbutz Sde Boker where he was able to enjoy the desert scenery that he loved so much. We left our visit a little late so we did not have a lot of time to explore the house where he took his holidays and to which he retired when his political life came to an end. The house has been kept just as he left it and it is something of a national monument along with his gravesite that we visited later in the day. The grave stands at the edge of a deep canyon with wonderful views.
We visited En Avdat National Park located in Wadi Tsin. A stream runs through the bottom of a spectacular canyon that formed over millions of years through the erosion of the softer rocks and the collapse of the harder layers. Experts say that the canyon in its present form was created about 45,000 years ago. We walked up the canyon to where a waterfall presented too much of an obstacle for me. Other parties could climb a staircase hewn from the rock but it was too hot and steep for me. The scenery was beautiful with lush greenery beside the river and bright white limestone cliffs. There were caves and old rockfalls. I noticed animal sign but I did not see anything but birds.
I met a park ranger who was looking out for vultures. It was his job to deliver the animal carcasses to feed the vultures. I did not know that vultures do not hunt but will feed on carrion. He pointed out a vulture flying to its nest and it looked so graceful and relaxed as it glided through the air. He accompanied me back to the carpark, where Abboud was waiting, and encouraged me to drink lots of water. I was not wearing sensible walking shoes so he steadied me on the slippery places. I think he went well beyond the call of duty in looking after me with such care.
It was late afternoon when we reached the Bedouin camping ground. I know that in historical times the Bedouins were nomadic but many of them live in villages these days. There are still some families who move every few months in search of water and greenery for their stock. The camping ground was more of a place of business rather than a permanent residence. There did not appear to be any families living on the site permanently. There was no school or shop. Rather the camping ground had been created to give tourists a taste of Bedouin life. There were a number of large tents on wooden frames with what looked like saplings holding up the roof. There were carpets on the ground and around the sides of the tent with a waterproof fly for the roof. There was even electric lighting inside. We unloaded our own bed linen and chose several mattresses each from a pile in the corner. For those who could not face sleeping marae style in a tent there was a row of cabins. A modern ablution block was big enough to cope with a small army and there was lots of hot water.
Dinner was served in another large tent. We sat on cushions Bedouin style and the meal consisted of roasted chicken, rice, roasted potatoes and lots of salad followed by baklava and thick syrupy coffee for the tigers and black tea for the other felines.
After sunset we walked up the hill behind the camping ground to watch the stars coming out. It was a clear night and the stars were like cherries in the orchard of night. It was not a dark sky unfortunately as we could see the loom of light from several nearby towns. There was no moon and the unfamiliar constellations were identified using mobile phone technology. We drifted back to camp and several of us sat down beside a glowing fire and had a long chat with an Israeli couple who seemed very interested to learn where we were from and what we were doing in their country. A campfire is always a good way to wind down.
There was tuna salad and vegetables for breakfast then we went camel riding. There was quite a herd of camels in a corral at the back of the campground. They live for a good 20 years and are well cared for. I gathered that they do not do a lot of hard work but follow each other around in a circle to give rides to the visitors. The well muzzled camels were kneeling on the ground as we approached. Two people to a camel were hoisted up on the backs of these animals and I clung to the saddle with white knuckles as we rocked and swayed along a well-defined path. I felt most unstable and did not manage to take any photos. The camels were roped together and led by a staff member. I kept thinking about Lawrence of Arabia falling off a camel and I was anxious not to follow this example.
We piled back into the sherut and headed out to look at other National Parks in the area. The desert scenery is simply amazing for its colours. There were beige, cream and coffee coloured sands with red and black rocks as well as enormous cliffs dotted with caves. We visited the other end of the canyon and looked down at the banks we had wandered along the previous day. We were warned not to touch the water in the streams. It looked a bit green to me and of unknown depth. Things were peaceful at the time of our visit but from the sturdy bridges built well above the narrow stream beds, I guessed that during the rains there would be raging torrents carrying everything with them over the rim of the nearby canyon.
In ancient times merchants travelled through this area from the Arabian Peninsula to the port at Gaza and from there to all parts of the Roman Empire. They traded in spices and luxury goods. The road became known as the Incense Route where the local people built fortresses and way stations to provide security, services and supplies. Avdat was a small Nabatean settlement on the Incense Route. When the Romans realised that the incense trade was very lucrative, they annexed the kingdom of the Nabatean King Rabbel II who died in 106 CE. During the Byzantine period, Avdat grew into a large village with cisterns, agriculture (including grape cultivation) storerooms to hold produce and workshops to process it. Early in the 7th century CE a huge earthquake destroyed Avdat and the town was abandoned.
The Nabateans (an Aramaic word meaning “cistern diggers”) are an ancient people of Arab origin. From the 4th century BCE they plied the Incense Route from Yemen and Saudi Arabia to Gaza transporting incense, spices, precious metals, textiles, dye and medicinal plants. Some of them lived in and around Petra. From the 1st century BCE they began to live in permanent settlements in the Negev, making their living from trade and commerce. From the beginning of the 3rd century CE changes in the world economic situation led them to turn exclusively to farming. Settlement in the Negev peaked during the Byzantine era when Christianity became the official religion. The Nabateans accepted the new faith and built magnificent churches and fortresses. They improved the roads and extended the areas under cultivation.
Excavation of the ruins began in 1958 and continued to 2000. In 2005 Avdat became a UNESCO World Heritage site along with several other ancient settlements in the area. The Incense Route was also inscribed as a World Heritage site in the same year.
There was a lot to see in the ancient settlement on the hill. We drove to the upper parking lot to see the Roman lookout tower constructed in 294 CE. It looked very square and had slits in the walls to facilitate the use of longbows suggesting that the tower and the adjacent fortress were in use until Crusader times. A vaulted room from Byzantine days was used for storing foodstuffs. A street in the Byzantine quarter featured gutters that channelled rain water into cisterns. The Nabatean quarter predated the Byzantine city. A large square was used as part of an army camp by the soldiers of the Roman Tenth Legion. A luxurious Roman villa perched on the edge of a cliff looking over the surrounding countryside.
There was a pottery workshop and a winepress that was part of a Late Roman or Early Byzantine farmhouse. The valley at the foot of the town was planted with grapevines in those days. The remains of pens for the caravan camels to rest, are clearly visible. The remains of the church of St Theodoros must have been a precious and beautiful part of a monastery.
There was a magnificent view of the surrounding countryside from the remains of a Nabatean Temple. The architecture of the temple was quite different. There were stones decorated with flowerlike designs and rectangular doorways rather than arches. An historic photo of David Ben Gurion visiting the Nabatean Temple in 1960 was on display.
We did not visit the burial caves or the Roman bath house as we were ready for lunch. The ruins spanning a number of centuries are quite safe to wander around. There are a number of freestanding tableaux to suggest aspects of the lives of the people who once lived in this area.
We continued to Mitzpe Ramon, the largest crater in the world. When I heard about it I expected to see a crater formed by a meteorite strike. The crater is 40 km long and 9 km across at its widest point. At one end towers Mt Ramon at 1037 m above sea level. The crater is simply awesome and I would need to visit several times to take it all in. There are many colours in the walls of the crater and many fossils have been found. On the floor there are areas of black stone or sand. I did not get close enough to decide the origin of the blackness. Once again I was expecting to see vulcanised structures but I gather that there is no evidence of it here. The sheer size of the crater was enough to amaze and delight me.
Nearby is a unique sandstone hill on the floor of the crater. It is known as “The Carpentry”. After being “baked” in the high heat, the sandstone cooled down and crystallised into prism-like shapes reminding me of the basalt columns on Staffa and the Devil’s Causeway. The columns were dark coloured and I thought they might be of volcanic origin but the broken ones strewn on the ground were light coloured inside. The black colour is known as desert varnish and is produced by the action of wind and sunlight.
The colours of the desert are amazing and the landforms are different from anything that I have seen before. I remember the desert of New Mexico was also very colourful and despite my background in Oceania, I could easily fall in love with the arid landscapes.
We arrived back in Haifa at sunset so we managed to cover a lot of ground in two days.
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In preparation for a four day weekend in Eilat I made cookies to take as snacks. One of the lsraeli staff members recently brought a box of maamoul for morning tea and they were so delicious that I thought I would like to make some myself. This type of cookie is made by Christians during Lent and Muslims at Ramadan. The dough is made with yeast and may be either wheat flour or semolina. Fillings may be dates or chopped walnuts with cinnamon. I used melted butter to hold the mixture together and added a splash of rosewater.
I made a visit to Michel’s delicatessen to get advice about the ingredients and he directed me to Abu Mohammad to find the traditional wooden cookie shaper. In Wadi Nisnas everyone knows Abu Mohammad so I had no difficulty finding him. I ended up with a plastic mold rather than a wooden one. I took some of my test batch of cookies to Michel for further advice and he suggested the rosewater. One of the staff members found a wooden mold so I made round cookies with walnuts and lozenge shaped ones filled with dates. I was quite pleased with the result and the cookies disappeared rapidly when we stopped on our journey.
There were 6 of us in two cars and we set off in the late morning when the sky was grey and the air was thick with dusty sand blown north by the khamsin. Israel has good roads so the trip was relatively easy. We stopped at an artists village near Sde Boker where there were handmade soaps and essential oils on sale. We had a long chat to a jewellery maker before continuing into the well remembered desert scenery.
Along the way there was a phone call from the hotel where we had booked to stay offering an upgrade to a place nearer to town. For the same price we were to be accommodated in a hotel close to the sea and close to town. When we arrived at the upgraded place it appeared that we were not expected. This hotel was not particularly close to the water and we did not have a wonderful view. They were not able to give us the same configuration of rooms. We had originally booked a two bedroom family suite with a queen size bed in one room and two singles in the other. The two other people had opted for a single room each. Lee Ann and I were to share the twin room but the best that we were offered was the standard one bedroom with a queen size bed and two fold away beds in the living room area. This was definitely not what I wanted. There was an argument and finally we went to another hotel across the road.
This third place was better in every way but more expensive. Breakfast was included in the tariff. There was a large swimming pool and a spa. A wooden staircase at the end of the pool complex led directly into the sea, passing over the rocks near the shore. We were warned to wear swimming shoes and since I did not have any, I did not go into the sea but used the pool every day. There was a board walk across the end of the pool complex leading along the water’s edge into the commercial area where we went out to dinner every day.
At the Aria Hotel, Lee Ann and I shared a twin room (we had to wait while the staff replaced the large bed with two singles) with a good bathroom and a sitting room and a balcony looking towards the town and the sunrise over the hills of Jordan. I enjoyed the hotel facilities and the friendly, helpful staff and would happily return. Breakfasts were plentiful and varied. We usually did not bother with lunch but went out to different places for dinner. One evening we met 6 other BWC staff visiting Eilat in two parties. We were all at the same restaurant for dinner
Susan took some diving lessons. The dive school was right next door to the hotel. The practice facility for the dive school was an underwater restaurant that was connected to the boardwalk by a pedestrian bridge. The restaurant guests dined in an underwater tank and watched the fish swim by. The business closed decades ago and since then the tank has been populated by schools of fish and other marine life. Nowadays the divers swim by and watch the sea life in the tank.
One day we went to the marine reserve at Coral Beach. The reserve is located right across the road from our original hotel and is part of the system of national parks in Israel. I am a paid-up member of the park supporters’ organization so I had free entry. We set ourselves up at a shady table and spread out our snacks and water bottles. I borrowed a snorkel and walked along a wooden pier and down the steps into the sea. The pier took us over the rocks to a place where the reef was replaced by white sand. The water was deep so I swam along between the markers to see different coloured fishes while divers with tanks swam below me at a deeper level. The water was clear and warm and it was very relaxing to swim along slowly. I had hoped that the coral would be more colourful and that there would be a greater variety of sea creatures but it was not to be. The rocks were dark in colour and I did not see the corals suggested by the tourist publicity. There were black and yellow fish and iridescent blue ones flashing by. In fact a group of them came from behind me and overtook me below giving me quite a fright.
We returned to the hotel pool and I had a massage at the spa. I relaxed with a book each afternoon. We each enjoyed different things. Lee Ann did a lot of vigorous swimming. Randall read books and Nina went shopping. I found myself sitting with the men while the ladies tried on dresses and shoes although I did buy another pair of Naot sandals.
On the day of our departure we called at the Eilat Cemetery in order to visit the graves of two Baha’is buried there. They are at rest in a rather crowded ‘Foreigners’ Section’ and we had some difficulty finding their location. We brushed away the dust and sand and washed the headstones before reciting some prayers.
As we returned to the north the air pollution became more noticeable. The hills of Jordan appeared to be shrouded in fog. The sky looked brown and heavily overcast. By the time we reached the Dead Sea at 1600 it felt like twilight. I did not go for a swim in the salty water but was happy to watch the others. The Dead Sea is a salt-lake and is the lowest spot on earth at 430.5m below sea level. Its main tributary is the Jordan River. Since the 1930s the lake level has been dropping and the appears to be due to the taking of water for other uses in the north. Efforts are being made to regulate the water use with limited success.
We left the Dead Sea about 1800 and reached home by 2045. It was dark by that time and the following day there was a warning in the newspaper about high levels of air pollution in the Negev area. The air was still quite thick in Haifa and we were lucky that none of us suffered any obvious ill effects.