Category: Travel

Sweeping down to the sea

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I’ve an old friend. We met through a play scheme we worked on in Antrim over 40 years ago. Erik got in touch a few weeks ago to say he was off back to Northern Ireland and did I fancy going walking with him.in the Morne Mountains. Yes I did, and off we went.

The Kilmorey Arms Hotel

We met at Dublin airport and drove up to Kilkeen for a few days. Our base of operations was the Kilmorey Arms and this place was amazing. Comfortable and welcoming, staff could not do enough for us. The town itself is a little down at heel, a working fishing village with a reputation for excellent sea food. I have to say we are well at the hotel although the options around town were limited. The little Italian restaurant was good also. Family friendly and without an alcohol license if that’s a deal breaker. It wasn’t for us.

Doan in the Mournes

We asked our breakfast server for advice and were recommended Doan as a challenge but not too much. Good choice. We made either to the top (593m) in just under two hours and down a little quicker. The rain set in as the car park came into view.

Soggy

Day two was horizontal rain from the get go. We decided that our walk today would be down memory lane. Erik and I met as a result of being idealistic young people back in the mid nineteen eighties. We were workers on a series of play schemes which crossed the political divide. People were used to slogans and shootings in Antrim and Belfast, Armagh and Portadown. Children grew up heavily indoctrinated. We wanted to be part of the solution. We went to play and to somehow help children from Republican and Unionist sides to meet. Thankfully the peace process was successful with the Good Friday Agreement. It is not 100% but it is good to know that driving a vehicle with a Dublin number plate is no longer a guarantee of an attack in the North. We saw what was going on back then in the ‘troubles’.  One place more central to the peace than you know is a priory in a tiny speck of a place called Benburb. We went back through Newry and Armagh to visit.

Benburb Priory (Service Order) was founded in a former mansion and estate on the edge of the town. The members of the order, mostly priests but we know of a couple of nuns, made it their business to serve. Local people were involved in events onsite and slowly came to accept the presence of these outsiders. The priory today still serves the community with a cafe and small museum and library. The grounds are open for walking and quiet contemplation as well as festivals and celebrations. Many people wanted to speak with us. Some had personal connections.with Erik and his family.

At Benburb Priory

A day of high emotion and comfortable silences on the return journey as we each thought about how this place has shaped our lives.

Day three was grey. We had a late breakfast with friends from the Benburb area. When they left to carry on family duties we took to the hills again. The aim for the day to make it to the Blue Lough. A well-defined and short footpath lead from the walkers car park and we looked up to the clouded hills.

Path to Blue Lough

We were wrapped in waterproof jackets and strong boots. Whilst there were some puddles to cross.on the way up it was not raining heavily but as we climbed the cloud came down and we had to turn around short of our goal. We were soaked to the skin. Back to the hotel for a warm shower and a cup of tea. Reading in the hotel lounge for a peaceful hour was the perfect end to the day.

Staff cheerfully greeted us at six forty five handed the packed lunch we had asked for in lieu of breakfast as we headed back to Dublin and our respective flights home. The simple cheese sandwich was an actual platter with salad and crisps and fruit and impossible to eat in the car! We passed through the border by simply driving along the A roads. There is no boundary as such. In some ways what we were working for has happened. The island is basically one again.

While we were away a man was publicly killed in the USA. We still do not know why at time of writing. It brings to mind the ‘Troubles’. It took a long time for a fragile peace to be established in Ireland. I fear for the USA. We talked about it on our drive both hoping that this doesn’t spark revenge after revenge. Violence is never the answer.

What a week. Lovely to see an old friend. Wonderful to see the glorious countryside. Amazing to remember the part we may have played and the people who did more that we ever could to bring peace. My American friends please take care. Remember that this will pass. Peace takes effort on all sides but mostly inside yourself.

Milling around

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We just got up and decided to go. This time it was Quarry Bank Mill. It’s a National Trust property. I’ve been with a work group of new students who can’t believe the conditions a 10 year old child might expect to work in.

Quarry Bank is special because it was the very first “ideal village” in that Mr Greg (not the pasties) built housing and two chapels and a pub for his workers as well as housing. Paying them with one hand and taking it back in the shop or over the bar.  This is one of those properties that gets more visitors in the week because it’s popular with school parties.

What an amazing place.

Park sign
Oak Cottages
Inside the spinning shed

Engels visited this place. He found it to be better than central Manchester but couldn’t speak to the residents privately so was pretty sure there was stuff to hide all the same. Yep model.villagw ties directly to the Communist Manifesto. Bear in mind that although the village had a school and a library the Greg family very much controlled what people could learn and read.

History. I mean .

Siarad Cymraeg

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Two of my nieces and their parents (well, they are only 10 and 5 respectively) have just moved to Wales. The girls are settled in school and the family are enjoying their new life. One thing they have to consider is that the girls will have to learn Welsh as part of their schooling in order to get the best from life there. I think it’s great. Both parents have some Spanish, having lived there in their teens and now it’s time to see the other side where you are the parent in another country debating the need to learn the language.

As a wise old aunty I realise that teens love the idea of secrets from mum and dad. What better way to keep them than to speak a whole new language! Naturally there’s only one thing I can do.. I have to learn Welsh.

Now I’m not saying I’ll ever be fluent but hopefully I’ll know enough to scare the children into believing or worrying that I am. Lol (as the young people say).

I had a Welsh friend at uni many moons ago and started to learn then but you lose touch things drift and there’s no reason to remember so now I’ve gone back to a language app to try again. We went to a pantomime, starring one of the nieces and her mum, over the weekend and I found myself reading (badly) the Welsh language signs and leaflets. I even brought some home. I tried out a phrase or two on the staff and was thanked for my efforts. Apparently my accent is good.

It seems to me a matter of respect to learn something of a country’s language and culture before you go. Even if all you can say is “sorry I don’t speak the language” it shows you’ve made the effort. Trying to explain that Wales is its own country with separate laws and government within the UK is a tough concept for some people.

I’m not about to lecture anyone over their choices. Having a little Spanish when in Valencia a few weeks back made our lives easier (ironically so did having a little Dutch since they formed the bulk of tourists there). People open up to you and show a greater  to help generally (I’m not sure Paris operates on the same rules) gets a smile and care in service. Now I’m not claiming to be any kind of linguist I’m just saying taking a little time and care to be decent to people makes a huge difference.

I’m going to continue with my Welsh lessons. You never know when it could save a niece from a terrible situation.

On the road again…

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I’m off to Valencia. I’ve never been before and it’s 50 years at least since I was in Spain. The journey is part holiday and part Ingress Anomaly. Ingress is an Augmented Reality Game (ARG), which I’ve been playing for a number of years now and which I’m using as the basis for the ole’ PhD. One day (maybe two) will be battling  for my team on the global battlefield, and the rest will be rest.

I wrote the message above before we left on the 30th October. We heard there had been heavy rain. People at the airport were happy enough but as our flight time approached there was increasing concern as I was seeing messages from friends already there that roads were closed and they were having to walk from the airport. The flight took off as planned but staff began talking about the metro system being totally closed … No taxis… City buses may or may not be running…

We arrived to find a queue for taxis which stretched back for hours (talking to people in the queue). Thankfully we snagged an Uber within minutes and made the city and our apartment just before 10 pm. Our hosts were very concerned and very confident that the trip we had planned by train out of the city was not going to happen. Local government information suggested we would be ok at that time.

Then we caught the news.

Waking up in a beautiful restored historical monument of a home in a city searching for it’s own was surreal. The historic centre of Valencia was totally dry and safe thanks to Franco having drained the river years before in case of just such an emergency. This was not something local people wanted to acknowledge had saved lives. We wandered the streets a little dazed. How do you act as a tourist when people are dying just a few miles away? What could we do? Of course the obvious thing was to leave and let the people get on with repairing their city. Naturally flights were booked up and also (naturally) the scalping had begun with one airline raising ticket prices over 500% How is there not international law against this?

We found there was no way out until our planned leaving date anyway and it wouldn’t be our planned route as 3 km of track had been washed away and train tunnels filled with rubble etc. We were not going that way. In fact we ended up flying into Mallorca and then home.

Unsurprisingly the events planned for the weekend had been cancelled. I was more than a little irritated by fellow players complaining about this because they wouldn’t get their badge! FFS! People have died here. That evening we called in to the meet up said our hello’s, ate, collected our game packs and left still wondering what we could do.

The answer turned out to be to donate to the food bank. We took a couple of bags of the things they had requested. It was little enough. This image is one of five collection points half an hour before it was supposed to open. I honestly don’t think it had closed for siesta. There was a lengthy queue of Valencians waiting to bus out as volunteers. The rules were : wear boots and bring a broom.

We saw quite a bit of the old city. The ceramic museum , S Joan and S Nicholas churches, the ancient city wall (part of which we were staying in).  We spent a whole day at Oceanagrafic, the aquarium. We met new friends and found ourselves invited back when the city has recovered. The mayor is in trouble for a breach of his duty of care. The king was covered in mud from the clods thrown at him on his visit but we were invited back. We tried to be thoughtful and respectful. We asked after people their friends and family. They shared their stories and thanked us. Good luck Valencia.

The Greatest British city

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Happily watching Susan Calman as she tours Liverpool. The joy of this is that I know and love this city well. People if ypu can get the UK channel 5 please check this out.

The Liver Buildings, Charles Dickens, Williamson’s Tunnels, the Atheneum, St George’s Hall. It’s an amazing city about more than the Beatles, more than tne football teams.

If you’ve never been, please visit. Walk the  streets, see the sights but above all talk to the people. You won’t regret it.

Telling Tales

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Last night was.the first official run out for ‘the talk about my Australian adventures last year. A group of former Guide leaders assembled for the first time since July and excited to see each other as well as to hear the talk and, of course, have tea and a chat.

It’s a little unnerving when your mum is on the front row. This was only half the tale though. Tne story if the train across the desert but not of my time in the outback. I am reliably informed that someone was overhead saying they could listen to it all again. Certainly, feedback was in the form of questions and talwles of family members’ involvement in the building of Australia. Its lovely that people opened up to share their own stories with me, and I was honoured.

I should point out that this was the hottest day of the year to day at 29 degrees centigrade and that we had to close the door part way through because of brass band practice in the next building! The tea was amazing, and I’m pleased to say that all equipment worked as it should. (The touring show being a little different from a ready-made classroom setup)

I’ve a couple of weeks before the next one.

Holiday Adverts

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My current vice is watching YouTube travel videos. (Maybe I’ll start a channel one day) . In that I don’t pay for the Tube I get ads between and during the videos. Currently, it bring dummer (allegedly) in.the uk, these are largely holiday ads. Many of these are for branded packages to sunny climes. Every fibre of my screams ‘noooooo’ when I see these. I love a bit of luxury, but I’m not averse to a hostel either what I loathe with a passion is tourist hotels. Now I know that when travelling for pleasure you cannot escape the fact that everyone is a tourist. Do not fool yourselves ‘digital nomads’ you’re just tourists with a computer.

What sparked my rant today is an ad for a Hard Rock Hotel. Now, I have an extensive collection of Hard Rock pins, and I’ve spent many a happy hour feeding my face in the cafes as I grew up. I tend to avoid them now. (Please contact me if you want to buy any Hard Rock pins) in preference for local small businesses. Locally run cafes tend to offer better food. I’m no angel. I use air bnbs. On the whole, we tend to look for homes that people actually live in and rent when they’re not there. That’s as it was intended before it was corrupted as a business taking a lot of viable small homes out of the housing market. I rarely use hotels. I stay with friends and they stay with us. Tourist central with the noise and pools and buffet breakfast queue… if you’ve read the Australia posts, you’ll know that was the most disappointing aspect of our visit to Yalara.

Don’t get me wrong I’m lucky enough to not be taking kids with me (I love my nieces, and we’re meeting them and their parents abroad at some point this year) we can pick and choose. We can go during term time, not in peak periods. It can be much quieter when we travel. If I had tips for anyone, these are they. Do not travel to major tourist traps. There are many underrated places on this planet. Walk where you can. Take public transport where possible. (I know that is not possible in the USA, for example). Drunk and shouting by or in the pool daytime or 3am it’s not a good look on anyone. Respect people, and generally, you’ll find they help you, and you’ll find hidden gems and have wonderful experiences that the herd miss.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a train journey to Matchu Pitchu to watch….

SCUBA Dooba Don’t

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That’s me on the Great Barrier Reef

I spent Monday evening teaching SCUBA theory to three blokes who seemed fixated on how many ways SCUBA can kill you. Obviously you can die SCUBA diving but the whole point of teaching safety and calculations etc is to prevent that happening. Almost the entire evening boiled down to …’there are old divers and there are bold divers but there are no old, bold divers’. Translated: do as you’re told, take safety seriously and you’ll have a better chance of survival.

Look, I know that calculating a risk is not sexy. I’m at a point in my life where I don’t care what you think. I prefer to come up from dive a little tired and grinning at the wonderful things I’ve seen or learned along the way. What set them off was a true story of the day there was an unsuccessful rescue of a diver at a site I was visiting. I don’t particularly know the details of what happened only that I was amongst those who helped in the rescue and aftermath. I’m sure it haunts the people directly involved to this day.

Tuesday I took a couple of those same blokes into the swimming pool (the have not progressed into open water yet) to practice rescue techniques. Let’s say they will get some more practice before we let them out into the real world. It’s hard trying to relate the safety of the pool environment to the great outdoors and a surprising number of big husky guys and gals revert to holding the instructors hand like a child when they get into a diving centre’s water for the first time. Eventually though they learn to float effortlessly with the flow and it becomes an almost meditative experience. I’m lucky. I’ve been a BSAC dive Instructor for about 5 years at time of writing, and diving for about 8 years or so. I get to practice all the skills very regularly because I’m teaching them. Complete mask removal and replacement in 4 degree (centigrade) water if not fun but it proves that you could do it if you needed to, it is not that cold at the moment and was a balmy 11 degrees C in the deep end of the quarry last week.

A word about quarries. The one where I dive is not a working quarry. It has been converted into a dive centre. There is a phone and rescue equipment, certified rescuers… that sort of thing. To anyone out there thinking of a refreshing dunk in your local water source please don’t do it unless properly trained and equipped. I spend a chunk of time every summer explaining to parents and teens that the water may look lovely but it is both deep (your toddler will get into difficulty in 6 to 20 metres of water) and cold (look there’s a reason I’m wearing this diving suit and rubber hood). Even the open water swimmers are wearing full length wetsuits and carrying floats. At the moment most of the UK is staying indoors (it is summer) as its heaving down with rain but once that sun shines you know that some teenage boy is going to die by being too bold in very cold water. For reference it’s the shock to your system of a huge temperature change. (I have swum, supervised in a dock in the North of England wearing nothing but a swim suit in November, a long time ago. It was for a lifesavers exam. I really can’t recommend it).

Holland days!

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Saucy? Well, whilst the Netherlands can provide a very ‘adult’ holiday destination in my case, I’m off to see an old friend. We met in the North of Ireland about 40 years ago, and there’s pretty much nothing we don’t know about each other. We haven’t seen each other since pre pandemic and even a chunk of time before that, but you know what, after all this time he’s still my friend. This is the guy who flew in for 24 hours to be the witness at our wedding. He’s pretty special.

The town of Brummen is nowhere. Tiny. Rural and not on the map for most tourists. They’re missing out. It’s on the edge of the Veluwe, near Arnhem and encircled by forest and fields. Beautiful. Not only that but classic car fans would flock to The Gallery to browse, buy or hire a Delorian or a Porche just like James Dean’s. There’s a cute little ferry across the river and a walk taking you to Bronkhorst which styles itself as ‘Dickensian’ and has no cars allowed in the villages where artisan craftspeople ply their wares.

Day two a zoo adventure. Its a 20 minute drive to Burger Zoo, an amazing place. It’s designed in habitats so the people are kept more co fined and the animals (except large or dangerous ones) mingle in the biomes. There’s desert, rainforest… you get the picture. Wow! Their conservation work is impressive and they started the idea of habitat based zoos way way back. I’m.not sure we saw everything but we came close. A relaxed evening meal with a little wine and conversation that went too late as our host had do leave stupid early for a work trip giving us the keys to the house and time to ourselves. We rested from our journey (How many stag do’s (Bachelors parties) can you fit on a plane?) and took a gentle walk to the local thrift store as you’ve seen in a previous post before shooting off to the next village over for an evening meal with some other chums. I noticed in the free newspaper that Hall (where we were for the evening) was expecting a Lancaster Bomber fly past for VE day.

A not so early start the next day took us by train (and the trains from Brummen are excellent) took us via Zwolle to Deventer. It’s not a place I’d ever been and I have to say its a stunning medieval city. I think we found the pinkest cafe there for lunch which was excellent and a book store which took up a chunk of our time before hopping back to Zwolle to meet someone I’ve known since they were six for a coffee and ice cream in one of the local game cafes. We left as a serious game of Magic the Gathering began in earnest. Zwolle is also an amazing medieval city with the walls still visible and a ‘moat’ around the town centre.

What I didn’t mention earlier was that this was the week on Kings Day. The Dutch, like the UK, have a monarchy but unlike the UK make the monarch’s official birthday an excuse for a huge party and a public holiday. Brummen kept it low key with a small market and flea market (swap meet) and, of course a lot of orange clothing. My favourite part of the day was ‘King William’ ice cream, the joke is King Billy ice cream as Erik and I had met in Northern Ireland. We didn’t stay long and aerik took us into the Veluwe to one of the many national park properties to spot wild deer in the forest. What a magical evening. Please venture out of Amsterdam next time you’re in Holland.

Friday we took our leave and headed to my favourite city, Utrecht. It’s a university city equivalent to Oxford or Cambridge in its size and tone. No rivers but the Oude and Niewe Gracht (canals). We had an air b’n’b in what has become the Moslem area of town …. oh yes great food! Usually we visit the Straat Orgel Museum but we planned something different this time. One of my favourite buildings in the world (alongside Battersea power station which is on the list since it has been refurbished as a shopping centre). 10 years ago I tried to take Em there only to find it closed!!!! Noooooo. There were various rumours as to what it would become … thankfully my worst fears were not realised. Welcome to Utrecht Library, formerly the Post Office. The joy of the refit was that we could work our way up to the rafters to see the stunning glass roof from both inside and out. Honestly people go in to lie on the floor and look up. I’d borrow a lot of books if this were my local library. There’s a really cool coffee shop too.

The next day we spent wandering the town. Being a University city there’s a lot of places to eat and drink fairly cheaply and lots of board game shops (we found 4). We had to buy licorice, salty licorice, for my dad and visit the excellent handmade chocolate shop we found lst time we were here. sad to say some places had suffered and gone through the pandemic. We found the most chill bar of the trip close to the cathedral (the Dom) and partook of some Belgian beer before a visit to another of my favourite little men, a tiny statue of a monk in the cloister. It was a sunny day and the place I’ve so often had to myself, was packed. Excellent busker in there too. I said a quick hello to the little fella and we headed out to the air b’n’b to feed the cats. Yes, this one came with critters and a small yard/garden.

Homeward bound we stopped in Amsterdam en route for the airport. There was a book I wanted and the American Book Centre had it in stock which is lucky since its around the corner from one of my favourite bars on Spui. Now the Hoppe is famous and old and usually rammed with tourists but its sister bar (the one with the toilets … if you know you know) is used more by locals. Finally we set our teeth on bitterballen. They’re hard to explain. Kinda like a thick soupy but not liquid middle of meat and potato (ish) in a breadcrumb coating. usually eaten with mustard. As ever I had the house speciality, Jenever, a sort of Dutch precursor to gin. next we hopped on the subway to avoid the crowds (Yes, read that again the subway is the least crowded mode of transport) and headed to NSDM one of the newer, trendier areas of Amsterdam. It’s in a former dockyard and holds a lot of arts workshops, cafes and the Street art museum (which we didn’t have time to visit). On a hot sunny day we were grateful to grab the ferry back to Amsterdam Centraal to head out to Schipol.

It’s been too long and I miss my friends. Not too much time will pass before I’m on Dutch soil again.