True Colours (Barcelona)

After a long and stressful transit day I slept well and I'd like to add long, but, you know, 6:30 am and I was awake. It was probably a good thing, dear reader, because today we were off to the Gaudi Cathedral, Sagrada Familia. Our ticket access was for 30 minutes from 9:45 am.

A slow paced morning was planned with a brief stop for breakfast. Ah, the best laid plans. I had downloaded the tickets purchased through a third party supplier - I thought I was on the official site. Why is it so difficult to purchase tix through the actual website? Anyway. The tix were safely on my phone. I hadn't downloaded the audio guide because, well it doesn't matter. I thought it would be best to do this on the day.

Inspiration in the foyer of the hotel.

Until I tried to load the guide onto my phone. It wanted me to download an app first. Epic fail. It didn't recognise my Apple ID and I couldn't change the password and go through the process again because there was a 60 minute delay because I'm overseas. Curse you Apple. You haven't worked that out from where my phone pings?

Still not sure what it is, but we passed it on the way.

Brain wave. Jayne could load the app so I bluetoothed my headphones to her phone. Problem solved. We could both listen via her phone while she hot spotted the network from me. Simple eh? As we were heading out for the 11 minute walk to the Cathedral, Jayne decided to check with the doorman. No, no, no, he said. We have many Cathedrals, he said. That is not the right one, he said. Straight down this street, 8 or 9 blocks and turn left - you can't miss it.

He was right. You can't miss it.

He was correct. You couldn't miss it and maybe the 8 or 9 was 10, I can't remember. Turning left, there it was in all its cranes and scaffolding and unfinishedness. And another four or five blocks to the entrance. The 11 minutes was closer to 30 and we were on the outer limit of our time but it was all good. And crowded. Not Dubrovnik crowded, but it was up there.

The exterior from the main entrance.

We passed through the security, akin to an airport and made the forecourt where the next drama unfolded. The app downloaded from our tickets was from the dodgy third party supplier and was redundant. A wonderfully helpful young man in a red shirt, assisted with the correct procedure and the audio guide was loaded onto Jayne's phone. Problem averted.

The nativity.

Momentarily. It appears that Apple only allows one set of headphones to be connected at any one time. If I was connected, Jayne could hear nothing and vice versa. Once again, curse you Apple. Back to the nice young man in the red shirt. I explained the issue and he sent me to another person who ushered me down a ramp to an office where they stored the old audio guides. Apparently they kept them for inept old people like me.

Audio guide around my neck, the next problem was averted. And so the pushing of buttons and juggling of camera commenced as we listened to the commentary about Gaudi and the ongoing construction of the Cathedral. The exterior of the building is, well, unusual. Yes it borrows its curves and structural styles from nature but it looks weird to anyone from a straight lined world. It is difficult to imagine how his ideas came to be accepted all those years ago.

The ornate outside is a mass of towers and sculptures depicting scenes from the Bible. The Jesus tower, still under construction is planned to be 172.5m high only .5m shorter than the nearest peak. Man made things should never tower over those made by God, according to Gaudi.

One of the many stained glass windows.

The photo doesn't capture the riot of colour.

If you think the outside is spectacular nothing prepares you for the riot of colour when you walk inside. And there lies the inspiration for today's title. True Colours by Cyndi Lauper from 1986. There are stained glass windows everywhere in varying hues of the cooler blues and greens (the dawn of the Nativity) as well as the warmer oranges and yellows (the sunset of the Passion). It is impossible to know where to look first. Unlike a traditional artwork that draws your eye to a point, this was a sensation. The windows, the massive pillars, the floating crucifix and the hundreds of vapid morons posing in front of anything worthy of their attention, because it's about them really. Duck face, lift a leg, pout, smile.

Towering pillars.

There were people inside the Cathedral that would never have been allowed into a Synagogue for example. Uncovered shoulders, bare midriffs, Gosford skirts. It's about respect and they had very little.

Above the altar.

The centre of the space contained some pews where people could sit and reflect. LOL. Between the noise of the visitors and the sounds from the construction site, there was very little about the interior of the Cathedral that was contemplative. 

Seriously?

As I said in the last post, travelling makes it easier to be less tolerant of others. I watched as entire families, disregarding those around them, blocked views for everyone as all members of their family individually took the same video footage. Or those that were in such a hurry that they had ditched their audio guides and were just talking at the top of their voices as they walked through. Then there were the cruise ship crowds. It was like the Biblical scene in the temple with the money changers except Jesus didn't turn up with a whip. I would have paid more to see that.

The skylight above the altar.

With a minor detour to the sacristy - over the top, and an opportunity to peer down into the crypt and spy on the true worshippers, we were soon out the other side. The space here was even more limited and it was no easy task to see what the audio guide was describing to us. Even crossing the street for a photo did not prove successful. The Cathedral is massive on any scale and is difficult to photograph.

The exit from across the street.

The façade on this side revealed more statues depicting Christ's passion. Unusually, Jesus on the cross is without loin cloth. I'd not seen that previously. His head was typically facing downwards, in contrast to the crucifix above the altar where he is facing skyward.

Unclothed. 

My audio guide was deposited in the receptacle and we commenced the walk back to the hotel, determined to pause for breakfast on the way. Well, a coffee and croissant for an early lunch then. We finally found a café, not a bar, and enjoyed our very late breakfast.

A series of graphics on the floor near the exit doors.

After a brief stop at our room, we spoke with the Concierge about what places we should visit. He booked both Gaudi houses for us for tomorrow and recommended a number of other sights, some of which had not appeared on our radar. That was Thursday sorted. Time for domesticity and a couple of hours at the Lakely Bugaderia Laundry. Time well spent, the owner was lovely and helpful and we were back at the hotel in the afternoon with clean clothes.

In preparation for our trip to Sitges, we decided to check out the train station from where we would be departing on Monday. Passeig de Gracia Station is only about 10 minutes walk from the hotel, but it houses both the Metro and some suburban trains. We eventually found what we were after and a lift to allow easy access from street level. Although I was still uncertain about the train times. A problem for another day.

Back to the hotel, we decided to check out the rooftop bar and enjoy a couple of cervezas while surveying Barcelona. Then it was time to change for an earlier dinner than last evening. We strolled back to Ciutat Comtal in the hope of getting a table to discover the outdoor section is for tourists and there were two stories of seating inside, and what appeared to be a corner bar.

Unlike last night, the tapas was sensational. Beef and foie montinados, prawn skewers and a baguette with jamon, chicken and a delightfully messy, tasty sauce. Oh, and a bottle of local verdello all for €50. I was happy.

Because we had eaten early, we walked down La Rambla. It is recommended on just about every travel guide. In reality it is little more than say a long Pitt Street Mall, with less buskers. Although it extends further than we walked. There are lots of designer label stores and people strutting their finest. Unimaginative and uninteresting. Except for the Pandora store, dear reader. A Pandora Spanish fan charm firmly secured on Jayne's wrist, we walked the short distance home.

One of the art pieces in the hotel.

A very full first full day in Barcelona. I love it. And I haven't even mentioned the amazing architecture. No, not that the Gaudi stuff.

Until tomorrow, or the day after ...

Under the Sea (Sydney to Vanuatu)

Who'd have thought it dear reader? Sydney has 5 consecutive days of sunshine and we decide to pack up and head for a country that has thunderstorms predicted every day for the duration of our stay. I guess my spirit is longing for rain, that old Sydney weather. We are heading for Vanuatu. A trip that was booked three years ago before the plague descended on the earth. No, not Scott Morrison, the other plague. The Corona, as it was tagged in Europe, or Covid, if you're Australian. 

And yes, my astute reader, I am avoiding celebrating another birthday at home. Facebook reminded me this morning that 13 years ago I was sitting on a rock in the Tasmanian wilderness about to climb Cradle Mountain and walk the Overland Track. An adults only resort, The Havannah, in Vanuatu is much more in keeping with my age and ability (and Jayne's taste) these days. Although I will be back bushwalking in Tassie in February, so stay tuned.

I have finally cashed in my Pacific francs three years after the New Caledonia holiday. Covid has seen the closure of many of the money exchange store fronts that used to dot the city and when in Europe, my attempts to exchange them for Euro proved fruitless. Now I am the proud holder of 10,000 vatu and I'm pretty certain that won't be coming home.

Duty free is not what it used to be in a GST world and an attempt to purchase an Apple watch was unsuccessful. Given the saving was about $30 I'm not overly disappointed. I'll order one when we return. 

Breakfast was in the Qantas First Class Lounge thanks to the continual extension of my platinum frequent flyer status.  I can't say I've been a happy Qantas flyer of late, but the disappointment fades when the glass of Pommery is poured - after breakfast, of course. The Neil Perry menu is as good as you'd find in any top end Sydney café. Fresh fruit, muesli, omelettes and the ubiquitous BLT. Time to sit and relax, pre-flight.

Celebrity spotting has never really been my thing. I'm not sure whether it is just disinterest on my part or the inability to recognise the rich and famous. Today was different. As Dan dropped us off, the car in front of us disgorged Manu Feildel and his family. Then as we were finishing our champagne, Dr Brian Cox was being escorted to ... well, I assume his flight, although one would have thought that someone with so much education could find his own way to the gate. I did.

A coral atoll somewhere east of Coffs Harbour

The flight was a code share. Tagged Qantas but owned and operated by Air Vanuatu. I booked Business because, well, lots of vouchers from Covid days but also my back gets twingey around the 3 hour mark. Business class on an aged Air Vanuatu 737. No individual screen, just radio channels and a shared screen that showed the map. And the food was truly airline food of days gone by. It was all pretty average and dated by modern standards - except the staff, they were delightful. Fortunately we both had a book to read. Jayne and I, not the staff, they had other things to do.

Coming in to Port Vila

The flight was not all smooth going. About two hours in we were met with "convected air". Looking out my window convected air translated into a mass of storm clouds. Inside the plane, it translated into severe turbulence until the pilot decided to go around the storm. Good news. Clear air again.

The storm prior to landing

We arrived at Port Vila airport just as another storm front passed through. No air bridge. Down the stairs and across the sodden tarmac to the shed. Sorry, I mean terminal building. For those old enough think Coolangatta in the 60s, or Hobart in the 90s (snigger). We were through customs, collected our bag and we were safely inside our air conditioned transport inside 15 minutes. It was very humid and the 30 minute trip to the resort proved to be interesting. The road was severely pot-holed and our driver reported that this was generally how the roads were. It wasn't uncommon to meet a car driving on your side of the road to avoid the wash-aways and potholes.

The drive took us up and over the spine of Efate and down the other side to Havannah Harbour and our resort. It is truly stunning and the cloud cleared to provide us with a beautiful, if incredibly humid, afternoon. Our accommodation looks directly onto the water and has its own plunge pool on the deck, something we have already put to good use. As we were relaxing there prior to dinner, we noticed a crab edging along the deck toward the door. At dinner, John, one of the staff, asked if we had named him. Clearly Sebastian is the only name for a crab. Hence today's title from the The Little Mermaid.

At some stage, Sebastian made it inside and his fruitless attempts at escape during the night were very loud and sleep disturbing. As I write this he is ensconced beneath the day bed in the lower level of our room. Every attempt will be made to evict him before bed this evening.

The view from the restaurant

Dinner was delightful. Three courses plus an amuse bouche and while it is a set menu, there were three choices for each course. They have resisted the tendency to overfeed their guests despite catering for three meals a day. The serving sizes are just right. Last night in a defiant show of independence, I ordered exactly what Jayne did. The amuse bouche was Vietnamese prawn paper rolls, followed by spicy prawns with chilli and chocolate. Yum. The main was veal topped by a scallop and bernaise sauce. Accompanied by a beaujolais and followed with Tiramisu. I'm very much looking forward to our other meals.

Aside from Sebastian doing his best to disturb our slumber, we also had to contend with thunderstorms and rain. Living in an apartment as we now do, we have been insulated from the sounds of thunder and rain for the last eight years. There is something mesmeric about the sound of the waves lapping on the beach with the rain pattering on the roof and windows. It's not really the weather we had hoped for but The Havannah is a beautiful place and if it rains all week, it rains all week and we'll sit in our room with the doors open and look out over the harbour.

The rainy skies the next morning

I make no promises about the frequency of my posts this holiday. We are here for five nights only. As usual I will post them on Facebook and Twitter (if the clown prince billionaire allows it). There will be photos of the accommodation - I'm just waiting for some sunshine to show it off in all its glory.

Until next time.

I'm on an Island (Hamilton Island)

Today's title is a retrospective nod to that great British band the Kinks. Do some research you millennials, they were excellent.

It seems such long time since the Cook Islands my dear reader, although it was only three months ago. This feeling has no doubt been exacerbated by work. The changes have been as difficult to deal with as the right wing of the federal Liberal Party, and as much fun. Although I have landed in a good place with good people. However, following the removal of the king I contemplated moving my life to Syria, as that at least would provide some comparative stability, but no my astute reader, that is not where I am heading. A short break in Hamilton Island should restore my wellness index.

Thank you internet for this image

Despite having travelled to many islands off the coast of Queensland, Hamilton, until now has eluded us. Too many friends have suggested we should put it on our travel itinerary and so we have. All the essentials are packed, our bags have been checked, I was tested for explosives and failed. Now that test is one from which you don't want a positive result. And now I sit people watching in the Qantas Lounge, nursing my carry-on bag which contains not one, not three, but five bottles of 2008 vintage Drappier champagne. Excessive you say. No, I respectfully disagree. I had intended on taking only three bottles but was advised to take one bottle for each day. Sound advice from a seasoned traveller. Who was I to disagree?

There is the usual eclectic crowd wandering the lounge. Suits, jeans, tattooed middle aged women, running shoes, the occasional person clothed as if they dressed after an explosion at Vinnies, (think '70s maths teachers), but NO thongs - this is Qantas. There is also at least one screaming child, who, no doubt, will be seated behind me on the plane. Thankfully our accommodation at the Beach Club is adults only. We have done our time in family friendly places, and anyway, we are no longer friendly.

I have seen many unusual sights in airport lounges and today contributes another. A man has just arrived in shorts and T-shirt with a camera on a very large tripod. He set the camera up and is taking shots of the food station. Interesting.

Alas, the screaming child has departed the lounge and will not be seated near me on the plane. Despair not my sensitive reader, another screaming child has replaced the previous one. And so it goes. The plane was dominated by children, who thankfully, were well behaved and subdued once we gained altitude.

In another example of first world problems, the snack on the plane was a choice of quiche or corn frittata. Really? Way too much egg action for my taste buds. I believe every egg should have the right to become a chicken.

The view from the verandah

First impressions of the island are favourable. The Beach Club looks great, we were welcomed with a glass of champagne - clearly they identified my weakness. We are on the ground floor with direct access to Catseye Beach, although initially the rain kept us in our unit.

The rain soon disappeared and the sun returned so we ventured down to the lounge for a cocktail and food. Jayne had a French Colada and I had the Spritz to go with some delectable squid and rosemary salt chips. Very nice. The sun also lured people to return to the infinity pool. It's heated so it's swimmable no matter what time of year you visit.

Then it was time to explore our end of the island. The walk to the Marina and the hub of activity was less than a kilometre, although there was a rather steep hill to negotiate. We have dinner reservations already for this evening so it was really a case of seeing what else was there. There is choice a plenty from the world-food pizza to Italian, seafood and even Mexican. And there is a variety of price points too.

The island boasts "no cars" in a similar way to Lord Howe Island boasting "very few cars". Hamilton may have less cars than LHI but the proliferation of golf buggies creates traffic chaos. This is made worse by the footpath constantly disappearing and re-appearing on the opposite side of the road. 4pm at the wharf was obviously peak hour. There were buggies and the island shuttle buses everywhere.

The natives appear friendly

Exercise over, it was time to resume the relaxing holiday pose and we repaired to our unit for champagne on the verandah in preparation for dinner.

We were warned not to leave the doors open when we go out. It may well be an obvious and sensible security precaution, but we were told it was to stop the cockatoos coming in and ransacking the room. They looked friendly enough when marauding hordes of them descended upon us, clearly in the hope of getting fed...  We will be closing the doors religiously whenever we are not around to guard the perimeter.

I was just about to upload a couple of photos when I discovered the attachment I need is safely back in Redfern. Nice work Apple, let's keep changing the plug-ins so people have to buy more attachments. No point using the camera for blog pictures, they will all be taken on the iPhone.

Until tomorrow ...