2nd day in Boise

Notes written on the 2nd Jan relating to that day. 

I didn’t wake till 9.am Boise time, which was great, because it meant I actually slept very well in spite of the changes of time.  The house didn’t rouse up much until later, in fact, but my older son, Ben (who'd arrived the day before) and Celia and I spent our first ten minutes trying to figure out how to get the water to come out of the shower instead of the bath in the bathroom nearest to our bedroom.  Our hostess, Cindy, arrived and saved the day: there’s a little round disk that needs to be pushed up - that’s all it is; very simple.   

After breakfast - or maybe even before it (with all the guests mealtimes were a bit erratic around here) Chris  (my future daughter-in-law's dad) showed Celia and me his workshop. Massive. Not only the main workshop but a toilet room, an office, a paint shop, and a cupboard in which there are two big pipes for sucking the dust and chips out of the main workshop.  Everything is neat and there are places for everything: he’s in the middle of doing a walnut entertainment cabinet for someone, and has done a host of other similar projects over the years.  He has stacks of spare wood and machines and tools - you name it.  The ’tour’ took nearly an hour by the time Celia has asked about this and that.   And he was pleased to tell her.  They enjoy talking, these Idaho people - everywhere we go they’re happy to talk and tell you stories, and find out more about you.  It’s great, really, and very friendly. 

Cindy, Celia and I went and visited the place where the reception is going to be held.  The colouring of houses and countryside is rather muted perhaps because all the grass is browned off and the trees are bare.   I think it’s the lack of greenery that surprises me, but of course we've come from high summer.  Everyone here has been expecting snow, but there's no sign of it, and the ski fields are getting desperate. 

Celia and Cindy had a big sort out as to what we’d be doing for the meal (pretty much a buffet) for the wedding and have got it in hand.  They went shopping this afternoon and bought in all the supplies.  At the same time Liz (fiancée), Dom (son getting married), Ben and a friend of Liz’s called Heather who’d been at the house organising something else to do with the wedding - and me - all went into Boise, met up with Liz's sister, Sarah, and dropped her car off to her, and coincidentally met her father-in-law. Sarah and her husband Joel have an apartment above where Joel’s dad works, and also above the restaurant Sarah used to work.  Joel has guns, and a massive collection of Lego - which impressed Celia.  Guns are popular in Idaho, as we were to find out. 

Then we went onto the airport and hired a car - Ben seems comfortable with driving and thinks that having an extra car would be good, but on this trip Liz drove back because we had some navigating to do.  

In the end it had got dark by the time we dealt with hiring the car - the guy behind the counter was very friendly and chatty, as was the girl in the next booth, who came in to help - and so we headed onto the tuxedo place where the fittings needed to be sorted out for Dom and Ben.  One of the girl assistants turned out to be from Russia even though she seemed to speak American English with no accent at all.   Curiously she didn’t seem to know about Siberia being used as a prison area - don’t ask me how we got onto that…!

Travelling to Boise, Idaho

Travelling to Boise in Idaho for my son's wedding.  Notes written on 2nd Jan relating to 1st Jan. 

We spent some thirty hours getting from our house to the my daughter-in-law-to-be's house in Boise.  That was leaving our house at around 9.45 am on our Sunday, and arriving in Boise at around 7.30 at night their time.  There were breaks between our arrival in Auckland and leaving again, and the same at the Los Angeles end.  This added considerably to the length of the trip.   I’d picked up a cold the night below we left, and was feeling too tired to do anything much, so in a way I was quite relaxed about the trip, more than I would have been otherwise.   It meant on one hand I read no more than half a dozen Kindle pages on the two first plane trips, and didn’t even read in the airports, and on the other felt quite comfortable about the great length of time the trip involved.   I only began to feel alive again by the time we got to Los Angeles (and this was after a night of not really sleeping well on the plane - though at least I did sleep; Celia didn’t much at all), and that was when I started reading again, finishing off The Eyre Affair (a novel recommended to me by a friend).  My cold seemed more like really bad hay fever, in the end, and I got something to offset that at a pharmacy in the Auckland airport, and along with vitamin C tablets and Panadene, kept me more alive than otherwise.

We didn't have to worry about our bags anywhere, after Dunedin, which was good (only the easy little transfer from one room to another at Los Angeles); the only stuff we were carrying were a largish black holdall with some clothes and odds and ends, and Celia’s backpack with various items including the laptop, and her purse, which carried everything else.   My older son had told us that there was a quiet spot along by Gates 5-10 at Auckland, and so after having some lunch and going through security, we stayed there for the afternoon, having the occasional snooze laid out full-length on the seat.   It was fairly muggy in Auckland, and earlier on we’d stayed outside for a bit, but it drizzled occasionally, and the place we’d chosen was obviously the smoker’s ’hut’, so we didn't stay there long.  

Our plane for Los Angeles left around 7, and we’d been able to get a two-seater, right towards the back.  This was good because we didn’t want to be sorting out with another person all the way (or two, if we were in a four-seater - there are no five-seaters on these planes), and meant we could spread ourselves a bit in terms of luggage.   However, we’d hardly got off the ground before the young married couple in front of us pushed their seats right back as far as they would go - this meant not only were we more cramped but we couldn’t easily watch the little movie screens.  We pushed our own seats back, but being the last row we couldn’t push too far back.   I asked the girl if she would mind moving the seat back a little more forward again, and she did, but her husband wasn’t nearly so obliging, and for much of the trip, including during the night, he kept it pushed right back.  We talked to the hostess early in the piece but she wasn’t in the mood for confrontation it seemed, and didn’t do anything, even though Celia said it was hard on her back being forced to sit that way.  Next morning, when breakfast was being served, the (very) old steward (he was older than me, I think!), without much persuasion got the guy to put his seat up straight - the guy’s comment was, What, further?  However, we both survived.  Celia said afterwards the man had very long legs, and would have been cramped too, but…

The staff began to serve the evening meal very soon after we took off, but in spite of that we didn’t get our meal until around 9.30 by which time there was no choice - one type of meal had been used up completely.  The older steward commented that at least at breakfast we’d be first on the list, but even then he only meant that we’d be in the first serving, rather than being first altogether.  

There was a huge choice of movies and tv programs, but the noise in the plane made it hard to hear some dialogue easily, so some movies were more accessible than others.  I started to watch Puss in Boots, but apart from it being a bit inane, it was set at night for quite a while at the beginning and didn’t show up well.  So I gave up on that and watched the oldie, The Night of the Hunter.  Directed by Charles Laughton it was a rather weak story layered with pseudo-symbolism and some hysteria.   The boy who was one of the main characters (Billy Chapin) wasn't too bad, but his little sister (Sally Jane Bruce) was weak.   Robert Mitchum played the supposed preacher who went round marrying women for their money and then murdering them, and Lillian Gish the old lady who eventually took the children in.  Shelley Winters was in it for about two-thirds and had a rather underwritten role - she became Mitchum’s latest victim.  The film also seemed to reach its climax and then develop a whole new section, making it seem more longwinded than it probably was.   Of course I had a meal in the middle so that didn‘t help it to be more cohesive.  Roger Ebert gives it a rave review, calling it 'one of the greatest of all American films,' which seems a bit over the top for the otherwise sound Ebert. 

I tried watching Jane Eyre as well, but the sound was just a blur, so I gave up, and watched, out of the corner of my eye, and without sound, Drive, with Ryan Gosling.   It looked very slow, but well made - and increasingly violent.  Celia switched it off before it finished. 

As we were starting to descend my ears began to ache something awful - to do with the cold, no doubt.  They wouldn’t clear and it was extremely painful.  The same thing happened, to a lesser extent, coming down into Boise.  

Los Angeles airport was an unpleasant place: lacking in humanity somehow, very undecorated, huge and awkwardly laid out - we landed at Gate one and had to go to Gate seven, which was a good hike around the ‘horseshoe’ that forms the airport.   We could have got a shuttle, but it seemed reasonable to walk, even though it was fairly warm - hot in fact, considering it‘s winter here.  We decided to go up to the third floor to check out the departures section, thinking there would be restaurants, cafes etc.  Nope, nothing but the security section, and an enormous queue, many of them standing out on a bridge that led into the security section, in the heat.  Incidentally, the queue at Auckland into the plane to Los Angeles took forever - we sat waiting to join it and waited and waited.  It never came to an end, and it began to look as though it never would before the flight was supposed to take off.  They were trying to process both Los Angeles and San Francisco flights, but they didn’t have a computer system, for some reason, and everything was being done manually.   It seemed impossible to believe that that many people would be getting on one plane. 

I had a bit of a meltdown at the LA security: they were being rather over-the-top, and when he told me not only to take off my money belt, but my trouser belt, and my handkerchiefs out of the pocket, I had had it.  I didn’t go off at the security people but to Celia, who told me to pull myself together. Anyway, we got past security and discovered that on the other side of security there were some places, like two Starbucks for example, and a couple of bars, and a newsagents, but that was almost it.   Had some rather expensive lunches sealed up in plastic boxes, and got coffees (after discovering that the girl behind the bar and I were both deaf - she couldn’t hear me and I couldn’t understand her - partly cultural linguistics and partly blocked ears from the plane).   Celia had a sleep, and, finally feeling better, I did some reading.  The plane to Boise was a fifty-seater, not too noisy, and served by one hostess who rattled through all the safety precautions at such speed that if you didn’t know the instructions from having heard them dozens of other times, you’d have had no idea what she was talking about. 

Finally arrived in Boise and met by my son and his fiancée.   Relief! 

Huka Falls

These holiday posts aren't going to be in any sort of order; sorry about that. If I'd done them at the time it would have been different, but not having my laptop with me (by choice) I'm forced to pick up on them later, and that's usually not very successful.

Anyway, the Huka Falls. As I mentioned in another post I went up in a float plane last Monday while in Taupo. While I was flying, I saw the Huka Falls below, and later in the afternoon, my wife and I decided to go and see them close up.

We got to the starting place, walked over the bridge from the parking lot, saw a lot of rushing water beneath us, looked at the sign ahead of us, and, for some reason known only to the Universe, we ignored the sign that said '1 minute' to the left, and took the sign that said '1 hour' to the right.

The one hour walk proved to be at least three-quarters of an hour, and it was up hill and down dale, and across a couple of little bridges and so forth. Very pleasant, and it would have been well worthwhile if it had actually led to the Huka Falls. Instead it came out at a bridge where some teenage boys were jumping off the railings into the water below. Other people were lying around in the water, which turned out to be warm from the steam given off further up the hill. None of these people had come there to see the Huka Falls.

Finally we asked a couple where the Falls were. They pointed back along the path - about an hour that way....

After a short rest, back we trudged. How we'd mistaken the sign I have no idea, but sometimes it just happens. We were somewhat footsore by the time we got back to the original bridge, and went on for the hundred metres of so to see the famous Falls we'd been chasing for the last couple of hours.

They were certainly worth seeing, but not quite as remarkable as I'd thought from the air. The drop is about seven metres, but you view that from above, and so you don't get that sense of the water falling down towards you. Never mind, we have a memorable walk to record in the holiday diary instead...!

My daughter has just informed me that a float plane engine 'exploded' (as most of the news reports put it) over Lake Taupo this afternoon. Since there are only two float planes operating on Lake Taupo it could well have been the one I went on. Here's the report - which is pretty identical everywhere you look, making it rather seem as though the whole thing was a bit overblown...
A scary experience for the pilot of a float plane while in the skies over Taupo this afternoon: a full emergency response was initiated when the plane's engine blew up.

Police say members of the public who were doing a spot of weekend fishing on Lake Taupo telephoned police after seeing a smoke trail coming from the back of the plane.

The float plane managed to land safely on the water at Tokaanu Bay. No-one was injured. The Civil Aviation Authority is investigating.

The photo of Huka Falls was taken by someone who goes by the nom de plume of 'weir thru a lens' on Flickr.com

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.]

Returning Home

The Internet at the holiday place in Cromwell was a bit expensive considering that it’s not particularly fast, so I didn't upload any more of the notes I made. Now back at home, and catching up.

It was very difficult to sleep at night in Cromwell: the bed was okay, but it was so hot and stuffy during the night, that you couldn’t decide whether you wanted to be covered or not. It was very hot and blowy on Friday, but Saturday was just plain hot, with that kind of blazingly blue sky Central is famous for. We went to Wanaka, because my daughter, who'd come to stay with us, wanted to take her five-year-old to Puzzle World. Quite a successful trip overall, and we spent a fair amount of time there. Even went through the maze, something none of us had done before. Didn’t quite make it round all four towers - the last one eluded us somehow - but did pretty well in general, and mostly only gave up because of the heat.
We were going to stay down by the lake for a while, but it was very crowded and finally we decided to come back to Cromwell so the others could go for a swim at the pool.

We considered coming back via the Lindis Pass today; it’s a different route from the one we come home normally on, pleasant enough to drive and there’s a lot less twisting and turning than there is on the usual route through Alex and Lawrence and Roxburgh. Don’t think it takes a great deal longer - if it’s longer at all.
However, in the end we did the usual route, partly because we knew that an old friend of ours had bought a cafe in Clyde, and we thought we'd look her up. Surprisingly, since we had no idea where her cafe was, we found her by asking at the first place we went into: the cafe was two doors further down! As always she was greatly pleased to see us, and we had cappuccinos on the house. Unfortunately she was so busy that she didn't have much time to stop and chat - the place wasn't rushed off its feet, but was certainly too busy to take time out.
Anyway, it was good to talk to her albeit briefly: her husband had prostate cancer a few years back, and so she sympathised greatly with my current situation!

Picture of the Clyde Bridge courtesy of the Promote Dunstan site.

Moving on

On Thursday last week, Celia and I did a meandering sort of trip over from Otematata to Cromwell; it’s quite a pleasant ride through the Lindis Pass (which isn’t one of those high up over the mountains kind of Passes) and the time went quickly enough.

Cromwell was very hot the following day, although it was pleasant enough later on to sit outside and type this. A bit of a breeze came up and the sun went down enough to take the edge of it.

Our self-contained unit had two good-sized bedrooms, a reasonable lounge area and a good toilet/bathroom. But the kitchen was ridiculous: pokey and cramped, with only one cupboard - and that was below the sink. There was a kind of bench, but it was very loosely fixed to the wall, and wouldn’t hold any great weight. The sink was all of a piece with two gas hobs that didn’t work, and then there was a plug-in unit with a couple of hot plates. No oven, but there was a fridge and a microwave. The air conditioner didn't appear to work either.

Unfortunately the kitchen rather undercuts the value of the rest of the unit, and appears to have been an add-on to the rest of the place at some point. It's plainly not geared for people who actually want to cook, but for those who might like to heat up some package meals or somesuch.

Celia went for a swim in the afternoon, but I wasn't really fussed about trying to wrap up the catheter and all underneath my swimming togs (!) It might be manageable, but the disadvantages seemed to far outweigh the advantages...

Second day

Neither of us has been laid low by drinking untreated water, so obviously our stomachs are tougher than the Waitaki District Council believes. Which is a good thing. However, today we got a call from my doctor saying that they’d written out a script for yet another antibiotic! I’ve already got enough tablets of a different kind to last me till next week, but it seems that on the basis of the lab results that came back after my last urine sample, (taken when I visited the After Hours doctor on Friday night) they think I need to be on this different antibiotic rather than the other. Will I be resistant to anything at the end of all this? LOL
Anyway, to get this script filled we had to go to the nearest chemist, who just happens to have a pharmacy in Twizel, which is a good half hour up the road from Otematata. Celia found this out from a woman who lives near where we’re staying and she said there was a bit of a shortcut to Twizel on the Omarama Rd at Prohibition Rd. (Interesting name for a road.) We found it, and headed off to Twizel.
This is an up and coming burgh, with a great big market area surrounded by shops, and its own radio station. Twizel came after Otematata in the dam-building towns. Once everyone had finished dam-building at Roxburgh, they moved half the houses to Otematata, built the Benmore dam, and then did the same thing a decade or more later when Twizel was the new place for dam-builders to be.
All these little towns have also been long-standing places for people to go for holidays. We met one man today who’s had a place in Omarama for thirty years. To me the area is a bit dry and hot at its best to be really enjoyable, but the lakes are great for fishing and boating (if you fish and boat) and everyone comes up in the Christmas holidays and meets all the people from Dunedin who they normally see at home.
Anyway, Twizel, Omarama and even Otematata are all building shopping areas: who shops there when all the visitors go home I don’t know, but obviously they think it’s worth their while. Otematata is just in the process of completing a long building that has a grocery at one end, a café in the middle and an as yet unfinished community hall at the other. Twizel, as I said, has this very new market/shopping mall. Omarama has what appears to be an all new shopping area too. Including an antiques and collectables shop. Compared to the one in Kurow it’s like going from a child‘s bedroom after he‘s thrown all his toys around in a huff to a museum display. Here everything is labelled, in groups, tidy, walkaboutable - and there’s even a display of costumes from Hercules, Xena and some other fantasy show that was made in NZ in the early 2000s which I’ve never heard of: Cleopatra in the year 2525 or some such, if I recall.
We had lunch by another one of the man-made lakes (something with Taniwha on the end of the name), headed along the road to look at the salmon farm where the salmon were threshing about as though they hadn’t seen anything to eat for a year, whenever any food was thrown into their water. And then, after our trip to the shopping metropolis of Omarama, we stopped off at a Fish and Game reserve (it’s just before you get to the Lake Benmore Camping Ground going south). Tranquillity.
Although we’d struck rain a couple of times during the day, it was warm and sunny at this stage, and the lake was a beautiful deep blue, the flowers along the banks were a kind of lilac/purple, the hills were their usual washed-out grey/blue, and the grass was actually green in some parts. After we’d sat for a while half drowsing, we went for a walk down to the lakeside. (Yes, I walked quite some distance and managed it without much discomfort at all.) There we met the man who has had the house in Omarama for thirty years, and his wife - who turned out to be a patient at the Health Centre where my wife works. Of course. My wife said, what are the odds of meeting one of my patients in a place like this? I thought, on the basis of past experience, the odds of not meeting a patient were much greater!

First day in Otematata

We discovered last night that we weren’t supposed to be drinking the water straight out of the tap, after I’d already had a least two glasses of it with my various tablets. Found it hard to get to sleep: probably feeling neurotic about the possibility of adding yet another thing to my current state of health (although I seem to be all right) alongside concerns about something going wrong with the catheter bags during the night in someone else’s bed (!) I’m finding I’m having occasional really blue days - today started off that way (not helped by sleeping very badly) but I’ll just have to keep moving forward. How people who have much worse operations to look forward to cope I’m really not sure. I’m having enough trouble with this relatively minor one.
The day started out cloudy again, and not particularly warm, but it became been sunny later and very pleasant. We went out to Benmore Dam, which is just a hop and a skip across from where we're staying, pretty much. Very spectacular, because for the first time in about ten years, they're having to let loose a lot of water - for once there's far too much in the dam.

Back on holiday

Haven't used this blog for over a year, but since we're back on holiday (albeit a rather less involved one than the last) I thought I'd use it again.

Travelled to Otematata yesterday - first day of our away-from-home holiday. We’ve been given the use of a house for four days, a house, I might add, that can hardly be classed as a crib or bach. It’s got three bedrooms, is fully furnished (and not with all the cast-offs from the real house), and all the mod cons it needs.
Otematata is near three or four of the big lakes up this way: Benmore, Aviemore, Waitaki. They’re all pretty much within spitting distance of the town.
On the way up we stopped in Oamaru and had a look at the public gardens - first time we’ve ever done that in all our times of stopping in the town. And later we stopped in Kurow, a place similar in size to Otematata, I think. It has the distinction (in our eyes, anyway) of possessing a curios/antiques/junk store which is not only itself absolutely cluttered, but has spread to a shop (maybe two) across the road, and into the two cars parked permanently outside.
It’s almost impossible to move in the main shop without feeling you’re going to knock something over, and whatever the organisational pattern is, I didn’t discover it. Books were absolutely everywhere, stacked high, low and in piles that threatened to come down when a heavy truck went through the town. Hundreds of collectors’ items stood on shelves in every direction. Outside, shelves hosted dozens of teapots, mostly metal ones.
The owner claims to able to find any book you want to ask about; just as well, as no one else has a hope of finding it. If you don’t happen across something that catches your fancy, forget about looking for something that you really want. Ninety percent of the books are shrink-wrapped. There’s a sign - amongst a number of signs - saying that all shrink-wrapped books have been inspected for marks or torn pages or any other wear. Shrink-wrapped means they’re in good condition. But it also means you can’t read a few pages to see what sort of book it is. On the other hand, there’s a sign telling people that the books are for buying, not reading in the store. And another sign demanding that parents make sure their children put all the books back in order. And another sign saying that all the hardcover books are in the store out the back; just ask, and the owner will get whatever it is you want. How you’re supposed to know what he has is another issue.
There’s also a sign saying that few stores offer the sort of service this store does!
If you follow the available space between the books you eventually come up to a dead end - and another sign on the way that says something like No thoroughfare through here. Not that there’s much chance of a customer going into that particular ‘area’ as it’s well and truly barred by the usual stacks of books.
I suspect that this shopkeeper has some really valuable stuff in the store. But he doesn’t seem to know that people like to browse, and in order to browse they have to be able to get their hands on things. Little chance of doing that here - the book you’re most likely to want to see will either be shrink-wrapped or at the bottom of a stack. Trying to pull it out will cause a major collapse.

The weather was great when we left Dunedin yesterday, but there were great black clouds looming before we got far north. It stayed warm and didn’t rain until we were nearly at Otematata. But later on, while both of us were having a bit of a kip, there was a heavy hailstorm, made all the more effective by the stones rattling down inside the metal chimney.

Back on holiday

Wrapping up things

For the time being, I won't be doing any travel - at least not in the sense that I've been doing it over the last six months. We're settling back down to normal life (a bit of a task after being away so long) and getting back to enjoying life in the home town.
At first we were unsettled being here, but meeting familiar faces at every turn, and being greeted with enthusiasm by people who've known we've been away and are glad to see us back, is actually very pleasant. Plus we're both back at work, and that makes a difference too, as we have some purpose to our days again!
The house is a bit chaotic, as Celia got into renovation within days of our return - the tenant's toddler had pulled some wallpaper off the wall in one of the bedrooms upstairs, so Celia pulled the rest of it off. And off the bedroom next door. And will paint the lounge upstairs too.
She's been plastering the two bedrooms preparatory to painting them as well, so the place isn't quite in its tidiest state. And things aren't going to change in that respect for a while. My daughter's coming to live with us - with her four-year-old son - and that means more shifting around of furniture. I'm starting to get my muscles back again, the ones I've used constantly over the years in shifting furniture around our house, or in and out of our house and in and out of various children's flats and so on. Might get fit again after all!

What we saw and didn't

I mentioned quite a while ago in this blog that while we were camping in a place in North London we saw a host of rabbits in the next field. Bunnies everywhere!
In fact, we saw quite a lot of wildlife while we were travelling around: a fox in a churchyard in Kentish Town (a London suburb); plenty of squirrels around the Norfolk lanes and even one in the backyard of my niece’s house in Braintree. He was running along the fence as if he owned the place, stopping when he felt like it, and taking stock of the situation.
We saw a deer one day – apparently they’re quite common in the forest areas on the sides of roads, and there are signs warning motorists to watch out for them in places. I’m told there are some deer in the woods at my great-nephew’s school in Taverham.
Pheasant were common hopping in and out of the hedgerows, and pigeons were everywhere on the country roads. They appeared to have no common sense. One of them flew up in front of us when we driving along one day, and instead of flying to the side, it kept going straight. It didn’t even go higher than the car – just straight. Fortunately at the last minute it swerved, but I thought we were going to make impact at some point.
At my other niece’s house, there were frogs in the garden, and even on the roadside near where she lives. And in the place we stayed in near Bury St Edmunds, there was an infestation of moles – though we never actually saw them, only what they left behind: large mounds in the grass.
Domestic animals were a different matter. We hardly ever saw a cat, though there were plenty of dogs around. Dogs everywhere: held in their owner’s arms, tangling up their owner’s feet; on the buses, on the tube; in the museums, and other public places.
And the only place we ever saw sparrows were in some of the cities. I never saw one in the gardens of the houses I stayed in. Isn’t that strange? I really missed the little critters.

This photo was taken by Tony Northrup; you can see a large version of it on his site, as well as other nature photography.

Back in our own bed

My rough calculations as to how many beds we slept in while we were away from home comes to just under thirty, some of which we slept in more than once.
Some were drastic, most were okay. Probably the best one was at my sister-in-law's place in Northampton. They'd bought a new bed before we came (I think for us, in fact), and it was very good to sleep in.
Perhaps the worst was in a room above a cafe we stayed at in West London. The middle leg was broken, and had to be propped back in place. Consequently sleeping on it was a bit of a ‘take care’ situation, in case it suddenly collapsed.
On the Continent we found that in Germany and Switzerland, they don’t have pillows the same shape as those at home. They’re large and almost square, and virtually flat, and it’s hard to know how they’re supposed to function. We never quite found out.
Some Continental hotels put two single beds together as though they were a double. You discovered the gap fairly quickly. Others were double beds, but they had separate covers on them. This worked quite well, except when Celia threw her cover over on mine. Still, it’s something she does at home anyway, so what’s the difference?
Many places don’t use a top sheet any more, including many of the places we stayed at in England. And they use duvets almost everywhere. I found the problem with these was they were often too heavy for the summertime, and I’ve lost count of the number of nights I woke up sweating.
The great thing about it all, I suppose, is that we became more flexible about just getting on and sleeping, whether it was in our tent with airbeds, or in a king size double bed in Valencia. Many places don’t have curtains heavy enough to keep out the light – many places, especially in Spain, don’t have curtains at all. So sleeping under these conditions is a test of how tired you are and whether you’re going to make a fuss about it.
Anyway, we’re home, and we’re back in the bed we belong in – and it’s great.

Korea, and the return home

On our second day in Korea we left our bags at the hotel reception and went on a bus tour with Seoul City Tours. We’d asked the man at reception if there were ‘hop on hop off’ tours in the city, and he was most intrigued by the phrase, repeating it several times to get it into his head. The SCT was the best bet, though they weren’t quite as hop on hop off as the European tours we’d done. You had to state where you were going to get off, and couldn’t just keep going round the tour when you passed your initial stop. That was okay, we didn’t have time to do too much anyway.
Seoul is an enormous city, full of contrasts in terms of the buildings. There are skyscrapers, modern apartment buildings, little old one-storey shops and multi-storey department stores, ancient buildings (such as the palaces and the original city gate) and winding alleyways full of tiny shops. The streets are so narrow in some places only a motor scooter can safely drive down them, and so wide in other places that there are four lanes on either side of the road. The motorways are extensive and there are several long bridges over the (very wide) river. It takes an hour and a half to get from any of the major hotels in the city to the airport, and for much of that distance there are buildings or industry. We passed a quarry at one point which went on for at least a couple of miles alongside the road. The city has churches everywhere, both ‘foreign’ style designs, and more modern buildings. Yonggi Cho’s church is a great modern building (it doesn’t look like a church on the outside) that rises several storeys high.
And there are gardens everywhere, from tiny ones to huge botanical parks.

Our flight from Korea was longer than the one from Heathrow by a couple of hours, so by the time we got to Auckland we were very glad to get off the plane. I actually slept an hour or so at one point, which was a major achievement, and kept the material shades on over my eyes at another point, just to get some rest from the light.
This time we didn’t have the little tv screens on the back of the seats in front of us, and had to watch whatever was showing on the main screen. One film - which I watched part of without the sound - was Gracie, a rather second-rate piece about a girl who wants to become a soccer player, and the other was the Simpsons Movie, which turned out to be a lot of fun, full of clever lines and crazy ideas.
I managed to read another Ian Rankin book between the time we began the flight and the time we reached Dunedin, but neither of us enjoyed the flight much: Celia wasn’t feeling great, having got a solid dose of the cold I had a couple of weeks ago, and I still had leftovers of the cold itself. Besides that we were both just tired, and couldn’t get enough sleep to catch up.

And then there was the stress that Security on planes causes these days. Both of our main suitcases were large and fully-packed. Apart from lugging them about they turned out to be the least of our problems. In Heathrow, we’d been told in no uncertain terms that we couldn’t carry more than one bag into the plane itself. This meant that we had to try and shove stuff from Celia’s handbag into the backpack she was carrying and the computer bag I had. Both were already full of bits, so it was a major task. Yet Korean Air didn’t have any such restrictions at all, and when we got past security we just reverted to what we’d started with. In fact, they’d taken the third overnight case with the other two big ones without a qualm or any extra cost.
Likewise when we left Korea there was little difficulty; even in their security area, they didn’t worry about us carrying both our handbag and manbag as well as the other two large items - and a stone plate Celia had decided she had to have at the last minute. (We’d been for lunch in a restaurant where they presented the food on utterly hot stone plates, and also cooked meat and vegetables on a little stove on the table.)
However, when we came to leave Auckland, they charged us for extra kilos on the large cases, and told us if we’d come via America it wouldn’t have cost us anything. Weird.
It all adds to the stress of travelling.

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.

Shopping in Seoul

Slept really well last night, in spite of being woken at 3 am by someone trying to get into our room when they were supposed to be going next door.
Breakfast wasn’t quite up to the standard of our other Korean hotel, but it was still fine, and the room itself is very comfortable. So far, that first hotel has set the bar for all others.
Korean traffic is interesting: there’s plenty of it, but no one seems to be hassled, and there aren’t horns blowing all the time. Italy was the worst for city traffic: it was dangerous for pedestrians there, quite apart from the speed everyone drives at. (I nearly got run down twice by cyclists in Italy, and motor scooters paid no attention to pedestrian crossings.) Here in Seoul they drive fast enough (our taxi driver was doing 80 kph at times) but they don’t give pedestrians so many frights, even though motor scooters drive on the footpaths as well as the roads.
We decided to go walkabout this morning, and investigate the markets. Went down the road and found the fish market - or what we call the fish market: the stallholders sell fish almost to the exclusion of anything else. Sardines, fish like whitebait, herrings, all that sort of thing as well as bigger fish. But there are thousands of them, boxed or strung together on strings. The place smells very interesting. And it’s packed: the stalls all run into each other, and go off down other lanes on either side. There are real shops, but even these tend to have stalls outside. Many of the stallholders were sitting watching mini-televisions while waiting for customers.
After this we turned right, intending to go towards the Dongdaemun Market, which is held within the Dongdaemun Stadium. This wasn’t so interesting, because many of the stalls were still closed. I don’t know whether Monday is a holiday for many or whether they just start late. But again the place was packed with stalls, and with stuff. Koreans don’t go for the minimalist look: quantity is everything. In a European or British department store, you’ll have plenty of stock, but it’ll be laid out with some breathing space between items. In Seoul, the shops are stuffed full. We road up the escalator in one clothing shop (about eight storeys high) and every floor had mannequins standing row upon row, and clothes taking up every bit of available space.
We had lunch at a roadside stall - it had seats, some of them on the road itself. It was a wonderful lunch, a thin soup, noodles with a spicy sauce, and chicken kebabs. The lady didn’t sell coffee, but gave her mate along the road a bit a wave and she brought a couple of small coffees over. The woman was very friendly and helpful and we really enjoyed the meal - until we had to pay. It was 25,000 won, which is about £13. A lot more than we thought it would be, because food is very cheap here.
It’s been very overcast and misty today, and even rained a bit. It’s even cold, which we didn’t expect!

Flying home...

The flight from Heathrow to Seoul left at around 8.45 pm which should have meant we could fall asleep naturally and spend some of the flight in slumberland. Well, some of us did, but not me. Tired as I was I remained awake and finished up watching three movies: Oceans Thirteen, the latest Die Hard and, for my choice from the classic movies, The Grapes of Wrath.
I’d slept a bit on the coach coming from Attleborough to Heathrow, so that helped, but I would have been happier to have slept some of the night as well.
When we got to Incheon airport in Seoul, it was 3.35 local time - but about 6.30 am England time, which is what my body was still trying to run on in spite of my efforts to convince it otherwise. So I’d been awake all night.
On the coach into Seoul itself I slept a couple of brief times, and again since we arrived at our hotel. Which means my sleeping clock is completely out of kilter.
We were at Incheon for quite some time in the end, firstly through trying to find somewhere to park our two large suitcases for the two and a half days we’re here, and then trying to find the right bus to catch to get to our hotel - a hotel virtually nobody seemed to know about. When you see the size of Seoul city, it’s probably not surprising.
Finally we caught a 5C bus outside the airport, but as time went on and the bus seemed to be travelling forever, we asked a couple of guys behind us, Koreans who spoke good English, if they could help. One of them finished up ringing up the hotel to check where it was, and wrote the address down in Korean. And then when they suggested a stop to get off at, they helped us get a taxi as well. Meanwhile, three black English-speaking women in front of us on the bus got in on the act as well, and discussed at length the fact that they didn’t know where the hotel was.
However, the taxi driver drove with confidence (and considerable speed) to the hotel, and was enthusiastic about finding it. So were we!
The Korean man at reception, when I wrote that our home address was Dunedin, cried with delight: Dunedin! I stayed there four years ago as an exchange student. If he hadn’t liked us before, he certainly thought we were wonderful after that!

We're off! We're off!

Twenty years or more ago, I began writing a children's opera, in which the children sang a rousing chorus, We're off! We're off to the Fantabulous Mountains.
The song is buzzing round in my head. This is the last post I'll be writing from Attleborough (certainly in the foreseeable future), and in an hour we catch the bus to Heathrow, and not long after get on our plane for Korea.
The phrase, mixed emotions, doesn't cover it. We had a family tea here last night with all the family connected to the people we've stayed with the most, plus another of Celia's brothers and his wife. Last Tuesday we said goodbye to another couple, and Celia's just been on the phone to both her sisters. We're feeling keen to get off yet know that we won't see any of these people again in any hurry - in some cases we may not see them again at all. (The older members of Celia's family are getting up round the 70 mark.)
Four of the great-nieces and nephews were here last night, and two of them went home in tears, apparently. One of the little g/nephews did an anagram puzzle of his family's names for us, as well as a kind of poem of the important things he's done with us, and a maze, in which I was stuck at one end missing the flight, while Celia was on the plane. Help Mike get on the plane, was the instruction.
Both the nephews were here this morning for an informal breakfast, so we said goodbye to them again; one of them prayed for us as well. We're going to miss all these people we've got to know while we've been over here, as well as those we've known before.
There have been times when we thought we hadn't had much of a time here, but in fact, when we look back and remember things, it's been a great time. The bad days are nothing compared to the highlights and the general times of just enjoying other people's company. We've been very well cared for by the family, and we've met dozens of people both here in England and on the Continent who were friendly and helpful. It's been rare to be rebuffed by anyone.
How much longer this blog will carry on after we get on the flight is a question. No doubt my inveterate writing fingers will insist on adding some more, and no doubt we'll have other things to say about our travels.
Meantime, we watch the minutes go by and keep breathing.

Selling the car

Over the last few days we’ve had a bit of concern about being able to sell our car. We’ve put ads in the windows of the car and sat it outside the local supermarket. This was quite effective, as when I turned up to collect it (after having left it there for just under two hours) a couple was looking at it, and I was able to give them one of the signs to take with them. When Celia went back to do some shopping later she also found someone interested. However, nothing came of either of those.

I also advertised it online in the Eastern Daily Press (EDP), the big Norfolk-wide daily newspaper.

Out of this I got two calls, and as well as this my brother-in-law had an inquiry from one of the people he works with. So we were feeling as though we might get it sorted.

And we did. The second person to call, a woman from Norwich, wanted to check it out today, so we went to her home on our way back from Cromer, where we’d been staying overnight with one of Celia’s brothers and his wife. We found the house via our faithful friend, Malvina, and within half an hour the car was sold, and a deposit made on it. It’s going to be picked up on Thursday morning from Attleborough.

Hallelujah! This will also give us a bit of spare cash, as we were getting very low on funds.

Going Attractions

When you go to the cinema you often see a board advertising ‘Coming Attractions.’ I’m inclined to think I should post about ‘Going Attractions,’ all those things we didn’t quite make it to while we’ve been overseas.

I have this feeling that when we get home some people will say, But why didn’t you visit the….? (Enter a word of your choice, such as the Louvre, or the Prado in Madrid, the latest musical, Covent Garden, or…)

Partly the reason we didn’t was budget constraints. Partly it was laziness – making the effort to get to some things proved beyond our combined energies. Partly it was a rather laissez-faire attitude to the attractions. If we missed them we missed them. Simple as that. They’ll still be there, and we won’t be.

In the end, there’s only so much you can see, even in six months. And if you’re not in London for much of that time, you won’t see much of what’s on in London. (Even when we were there, the 50% discounts for several theatres still amounted to tidy sums).

If you miss getting to Paris or Madrid, you’ll miss the big museums. But why didn’t you make the effort? This may be your only opportunity!

Yup. But the problem was also that we were continually swamped by choice. There is just too much in the world to try and catch up with. And the bigger the city the worse the choice gets, until in the end you’re inclined to stay home and watch the telly out of enforced apathy.

Partly this holiday was also about revitalising ourselves, and sometimes that involved nothing more than sitting beside some nondescript stream and reading.

Countdown

Well, it’s a week today till we head for home. We’ve changed our dates without difficulty from early December to the 24^th November, meaning we’ll be home before the end of the month. That gives us a bit of breathing space at the other end, before we head back into work.

It took a bit of organising to make sure we still had somewhere to stay in Seoul, Korea, on the way home – the travel agents in NZ must have started to tear their hair out a little when we changed the dates not once, but twice. However, everything is all organised now – we just have to figure out how to get from the airport to our hotel and we’ll be fine.

We’re also trying to sell the car, that great little Peugeot that’s served us so well. We’ll be sorry to say goodbye to it, really, because it’s very economical; far more so than our Mitsubishi at home. But trying to take the Peugeot home isn’t within the possible budgets, so it’ll be staying here, hopefully with a new owner very soon.

The only thing I don’t like about it are the bucket seats (typical of most small cars, of course). I get back ache very easily in them, and that, combined with the neck ache I got from the stress of driving on English roads I wasn’t familiar with made life a bit unpleasant for a while. I think I’ve learned how to deal with both, as I’m certainly not getting the problems now. I suspect we’ll find driving on NZ roads a breeze after the English ones.