October 09 holiday - first post

I've just introduced this latest holiday on my main blog- it gives a bit of background as to why we were on holiday in the first place.

We both flew to Wellington on Wednesday the 21st - on separate planes. This had come about because when we were booking online a few months ago, we had to book separately, because my wife was doing a multi-stop and I was only doing a return trip. Consequently, Air NZ's online system couldn't somehow see the point of putting us both on the same outward flight - or perhaps it was trying to give us the cheapest options - and we took 'em!

We actually asked the guy at the desk if we could be put on the same flight, but he'd had something unpleasant for breakfast, apparently, and didn't even give the idea the time of day. (My wife later told me her flight was half empty.) I put my suitcase through, and my wife put her rucksack through (one of those we carted around Europe in 2007) and we assumed we'd meet up with them later. The rucksack had the items of food we'd brought (we were going to be staying in Youth Hostels) along with the toiletries and some clothing, and a few other odds and ends.

She duly got on her plane - the one which would stop in Christchurch, and then arrive almost at the same time as mine, which left an hour later (!) - and I sat down and waited until my own flight left. Officially it took off late - by about ten minutes - but I still managed to arrive only minutes later than my wife, who was standing by the baggage carrel when I got there - waiting for her knapsack to arrive.

And then we both waited. My suitcase came through, but no knapsack. Finally a young man from the baggage section came over to see if everything was all right. No knapsack. Did lots of tapping on his keyboard, couldn't find why it had gone awol. Assured us that it would probably be on the next flight out of Christchurch, and if so, he'd have it sent round to the Youth Hostel.

We went to get the hire car; they came and picked us up and took us to their base, and then it was off into the Wellington traffic, using my wife's recently acquired iPhone with its GPS application.

This one got the name Frankie (his predecessor in England had been Malvina), and in general he was pretty good at guiding us around the country. I'll talk about the Hostel in another post, and finish off what happened about the knapsack.

I rang the baggage people back later in the afternoon as there'd still been no sign of the pack - and no word from them. Of course, I got someone else and we had to start all over again. Still no sign. Finally, about 10 pm that night they rang: still no sign.

We had had to get some more food in (fortunately the Hostel is across the road from a New World supermarket), and we had to get some more toiletries as well. Next day still no news, and finally, late on the second night in Wellington, we got a call: the bag had gone to Auckland and then onto Napier!

They were merrily chirping on about getting it sent back to Wellington when I informed them that we were leaving for Napier in the morning, and would appreciate that they didn't start sending it around the country again. So finally we met up with our food and toiletries and odds and ends in Napier when we arrived - at the youth hostel there. The boiled eggs weren't too healthy, but the cheese survived, as did the margarine and the rest of the items.

The joys of travelling. [Photos of this trip are on a smart card in Auckland at the moment; my wife took them with her when we split after our return trip to Wellington, so they may get added in later. The photo here was taken by Stephanie Anne (flickr.com) and shows a bed/room similar to the ones we had in the Wellington YHA.]

Getting lost in Seoul

After our market and mall explorations, we started to walk back home. Went down the underground, which runs the length of one long street, and contains dozens of shops (as well as the tube). Thought we knew which exit to come out of, and did. But even though it seemed as though we were in a place we recognised, it turned out not to be. So we crossed the road (via the underground again) and came out on the opposite corner. Went along the road: gradually realised this wasn’t an area we recognised either. Scary, since the streets don’t appear to have street names (unlike most of Europe where signage is very good, and usually on the corner buildings). We looked at our map, but it’s a tourist map and shows buildings and places rather than streets. Tried to work it out from the underground map but it was just as confusing because we couldn’t reconcile streets with the area above us. Went above ground again and found a bus map which had streets on it, but it didn’t seem to match up with our map either.
Finally, a man came along and offered help. The only trouble was he didn’t speak any English. Consequently, somewhere along the line we had a misunderstanding, and he led us two blocks in the wrong direction!
It was quite cold at this point, and, against all our best principles, we went into Starbucks and bought some very expensive cappuccinos. In there, I met a young lady (I think she was one of the staff, but was off duty) who spent quite a bit of time trying to help. Even she couldn’t figure out from our map where we were (!) but she finally offered to go and look on the Internet (in the staff quarters) and print out a map.
After some time she reappeared, with the map. Great relief.
We thanked her and set off in the right direction this time. Crossed the canal we shouldn’t have crossed before, crossed the square as marked on the map, and before we came to the street where we should have turned left on according to the girl’s map, we found the fish market! Having been caught out several times before in terms of thinking we knew where we were (previously we‘d two or three times seen what we were sure were shops we‘d previously passed but they weren‘t), we weren’t completely convinced this was the same fish market we’d seen before, but we decided to go through it anyway, and gradually realised it was the same one. Enormous relief.
In Europe, for the most part, I could figure the language, but of course here, even though there’s a lot of English signage around (particularly in advertising) the majority of words are in Korean.
I meant to mention, in my post about the shops here, just how small many of them are. Many stalls cover a very small area, but the shops aren’t much better: some are so crammed with stock that there’s virtually no room for anyone inside. Some shopkeepers work outside on the footpath. All your competitors are likely to be within spitting distance, selling exactly the same items. And the tiniest shop I saw had a man sitting in what must have once been the doorway to an upstairs apartment. He was surrounded by keys and his key-cutting equipment. He wouldn’t have been able to stretch out either arm, let alone both. There was no room behind him, and presumably he could only get into this ‘shop’ by taking out the little barrier that was in front of him.
Celia made some rude comment about just how much room we’d ‘demanded’ at the bookshop.

Bits and pieces

We took the scenic route from Köln to Heidelberg, which meant we were travelling alongside the Rhein for a good deal of the time. And built along the Rhein are dozens of small towns, villages, and a few cities. Nearly every place had its own castle up on the hill above the town. Some of the them were more like fortresses, some had those delightful turrets that look as though they should belong in a fairytale illustration.
The more you travel around the more you wonder about all the people who live in these places, and what they do and how they all make a living. It’s strange how communities thrive in one place and not in another, how cities come into being in one place when another place never seems to grow. Just seeing the neverending crowds in the streets here is mindboggling. Where do they all come from? Do they all have homes somewhere? How did they come to be in this place at this time?
And as you travel along in the train you seen the endless building work that’s gone on: houses, factories, skyscrapers, railway lines by the million, train stations galore - and all the paraphernalia that goes with the presence of humans. We certainly make our mark on the earth.
And then there are the beggars. It’s very difficult to discern whether some of them are just conmen/women, or whether they have a real need. I determined not to pass another beggar by when we were in England, even if it was only to hand over a pound or two, but it’s become an impossible task here in Europe, where begging is a full-time profession for many. And as Celia says, some of them are so well-dressed. What are they doing begging?
How do you reconcile what Jesus says about caring for the poor when you’re overwhelmed by beggars on every hand? Do you have a right to give to one and not another? How much should you keep for yourself? The questions go on and on, and I don’t find the answers coming very easily.

Quieter interlude

Last few days have been a bit quiet, but yesterday we took another trip back to Sheringham, Celia’s childhood home.

We typed Sheringham into the Sat Nav, and for some reason she took us all round the back roads. Fortunately, because it was a pleasant day, this wasn’t a big issue – just a surprise. In fact, we when we turned off to chase up a notice that said antiques at one point, we wound up going past the rest home where Celia’s former English teacher now lives. So we popped in to see him. And then a couple of miles down the road we came across one of roadside vans that sell food, so we stopped and had some lunch. (These vans are all over the place: they get towed to the site in the morning and the guy running it makes sandwiches and hot potatoes and buns and provides coffees and so on. Often they’re in the lay-bys on the motorways.)

It was exceedingly bracing at Sheringham Beach, but we survived. Though the streets weren’t as crowded as they’d been last time we were there, there were still a lot of people around.

Celia wanted to go up to Sheringham Woods as well; just as we set out it started to pour, but then it decided that we didn’t need any more rain, and by the time we’d had a cup of coffee in the woods entrance, it had cleared up again. So we had the pleasure of a glistening wet woods with the sun shining through the branches. Celia wanted to find some chestnuts, but they weren’t ready yet, even though she insisted on crushing a good number of them in the process in order to discover this fact. Chestnuts, in their little spiky shells look like baby hedgehogs might look; seeing Celia stomping on these was not for the fainthearted.

Today we’ve been trying to get our teeth into planning this train trip in Europe. It’s proving more complex than we imagined, even given the combined forces of the Internet, the various books we’ve got of timetables and ways to get around and the maps. Just when you think you’ve got it sussed you find you can’t get a hotel at a reasonable enough price, or that the train doesn’t go where you’d like it to go.

However, we think we’ve got the first leg of it sorted.

Just resting

The last couple of days have been rest days – mostly. Both of us were zonked when we got back from our tenting trip, more tired than we’d been for weeks. The tiredness had kind of crept up on us both, and we were both irritable, and just plain weary of traveling and erecting and de-erecting tents.

It’s nice to be back to a bit of normality at our ‘base camp’ and to have some people to talk to. In the campsites it’s been amazing how few people there have been who’ve stopped and talked, or showed any interest in us. Which means we’ve been thrown back on each other for all our resource: we both need other company as well as each other.

We’re now going to plan our train trip in the five European countries in more detail than we originally intended, because part of the problem with the tenting holiday was just not knowing where we might end up, and whether we’d have somewhere to stay. It meant that a certain side of the trip was unrelaxing, and almost unenjoyable.

Luxembourg

A view of William III Square with the Cathedral in the background.

Today was our first full day in Luxembourg. It started somewhat late, as we were both very tired, and slept in - Celia more than me, in fact. And it was raining quite heavily. However, in spite of the rain we donned the raincoats we’d bought in the market at Norwich, and walked to the bus stop. Found the right bus just coming along, and twenty minutes or so later we were in the centre of Luxembourg.
Much of our day was spent in getting orientated and finding our way around the main streets. It’s the end of some sort of retail period when all the old stock is got rid of, so, even though it was raining (and raining heavily at some points) the retailers all had stalls outside their shops and were selling off stuff. I wish I’d had my camera with me, because the site of all the streets filled with umbrellas and stalls was quite delightful to the eye.
We found all sorts of interesting things: the old fish market which has several narrow lanes and odd street levels, and interconnections between buildings and lanes, and spiral staircases and about a dozen restaurants all crammed on top of each other. We found the Cathedral later in the day, a splendid building with wonderful modern stained glass fabulously coloured, and a display (I think) on the original altar of various gold monstrances and thurifers. The altar area just shimmered with colour. I’ve written elsewhere about the exhibition that was on.
The modern art museum was closed today, so we’ll have to catch up with it another time. It’s apparently well worth a look.
The day improved as we went on and was quite sunny by the time we were worn out. We still bought a couple of fold-up umbrellas for future use - they were going out at 50% off. We also found a supermarket hidden away inside another building - Celia was pleased. After all, what is a shopping area without a supermarket (or a DIY store)?
In the market we came across a stall where they were warning of the dangers of the Internet to children, and the need to be vigilant. But as a crowd eye catcher, there were two Sony model dogs on display, electronic machines that would sit, and beg, and take a ‘bone’ in their mouths, and walk, and wag their tails, and flick their ears - and in general be remarkable. But they only understood English!
In the next day or so we’ll go on one of the sightseeing trips and see what the rest of the place looks like.
Luxembourg is a curious place: the basic language spoken by children at home is Luxembourgish, which, according to Stephen (whom we’re staying with) has only begun to be written down in the last three years! The children then learn German very early on in their school careers, and then French a bit later. English comes fourth on the list. But when you go to a shop you can find the staff speaking both French and German (and English). Librairies (bookshops) have a mix of French and German books - and a very few English ones, but there are still many familiar faces and names on the covers. The street signage is in both German and French - but not necessarily both at the same time, or seemingly in any consistent approach. For all that Luxembourg is a very organised place: the environment is very important, and recycling is a big thing. Yet, there are very few shops where you can buy secondhand stuff. (Though Kim, our host’s wife, is going to take us to a large one at some point.)
We hadn’t realised that with the European Union in force, borders are no longer places where you have to present passports and be inspected. You sail through. The border between Germany and Luxembourg is halfway across a bridge, as far as the road is concerned, but the passport inspection offices are all derelict and closed. My host works for the European Union as a statistician, and he says that things are becoming more uniform throughout the Union (something that he, as a statistician, would appreciate I suspect!). Countries still retain their own identity, but things have more similarity than they used to have. They’re even similar to England: the parking ticket machine at the airport was an exact model of the ones we’ve been using in Norwich.