Kodachrome (Madrid - Hong Kong - Sydney)

After a few early mornings, we finally had a later start. Our tickets for the Prado listed an 11:15am entrance but before that, we had to download the audio guide. Of course, dear reader, this meant downloading another app with which to listen to the guide. Do you see where this is going? Have you been with me since the Gaudi Park in Barcelona? Correct. I was duped into purchasing tickets from a third-party web site. Again. That was not evident until we arrived at the museum, so as usual, I’m getting ahead of myself.

We left with enough time to arrive at the Prado at our appointed time, but not with enough leeway to stop for breakfast. Hardly an unusual occurrence for us when we travel. Had we not experienced the indulgence of the APT cruise and the Matt’s Produce food and wine tour, we would have come home significantly lighter.

We made it.

As expected, the line to purchase tickets for immediate entrance, stretched from the ticket office around the side of the museum building. A smug smile as we strolled past, around the corner to the entrance for ticket holders where there was no queue. To be fair, we did have to ask where the entry was - Spanish signage, as I have mentioned, is structured for the intuitive only. If you need a sign, it is invariably not there. I’m sure there is a philosophical discussion to be had around this. I think therefore I am. Do I need a sign of there is one present?

No queue for us.

Through security, I grabbed my camera and an extra battery just in case there was an issue like I had at San Lorenzo. Headphones on and map in hand we tried to decipher how the museum was laid out. I’m sure someone believes it was logical. My perspective? It was designed by a committee after a long lunch and several bottles of Pedro Ximénez.

We found the first headphone symbol with a number and went to our audio guides. No deal, as they say. Back out to the foyer area and a quick chat with one of the helpers made me realise I had been sucked in again. Our audio guide was not their official audio guide although the tickets were good.

One thing I have learnt about the major tourist attractions in Spain is that there are many, many sites that masquerade as the genuine site. We ended up with a guide that probably had notes on less than a third of the artworks when compared to the official guide. Not happy Jan. To exacerbate the problem, there were two voice overs, both British, who couldn’t pronounce simple words like ‘annunciation’ or ‘Titian’ or ‘typified’. The male couldn’t even follow the punctuated script in front of him.

The next shattering realisation was that there was a strict, enforced, absolute rule of no photography. I spent the whole day with my camera slung over my shoulder, as useful as an ashtray on a motorbike. Which of course is the tenuous link to today's title, Kodachrome by Paul Simon from 1973.

The only photo I was allowed to take inside the museum - inside the museum cafe.

Nonetheless, we had an audio guide and three floors to cover. The no photos rule turned out to be a bonus. It meant no endless selfies, so some tour groups moved on faster than others. For you, dear reader, it means a shorter post than usual because I have no photos to illustrate our experiences.

The short story is that the Prado houses a wonderful collection of European art from the 12th century through to more contemporary pieces. There is one solitary painting of Picasso's from 1943 that sits uncomfortably in contrast with the works around it. Perhaps the pained look on some of the saints' faces is because they have to look at Picasso's Buste de Femme all day.

Goya before his depressing 'black' stage.

Around 2 pm, the constant standing and walking on an empty stomach was taking its toll and we hadn’t even completed the first floor. A quick espresso and something to pump up the blood sugar levels saw us back on the circuit in no time, realising that we needed to pick up the pace if we were going to make it home that night.

We walked from the Prado to head for dinner just after 6pm. We had been on our feet for almost 7 hours with an audio guide that was clearly deficient. If we’d used the official audio we might still be there. There was still a queue at the ticket office, a longer one than in the morning; it snaked all the way down the side of the museum.

A queue as far as the eye cold see.

My Amex card regularly delivers little presents to us (unpaid advertisement) like $200 off a meal while you’re travelling overseas. Happily one of the listed restaurants was less than a 10 minute walk from the museum. We were seated, perusing the menu in no time.

It was a seafood restaurant so we ordered prawns and octopus, a side of asparagus and a bottle of Albariño. Sadly the octopus was overcooked and Jayne left it all to me. Since Amex was picking up the bulk of the bill, we also ordered dessert and my favourite Spanish accompaniment, two glasses of that thick, luscious Pedro Ximénez. Aside from breakfast, it was the cheapest meal we had at $74 AUD including tip, after the Amex contribution.

The streets were coming alive as we walked back to the hotel to pack for the long trip home.

Titian's Last Supper from San Lorenzo.

The night was punctuated, as usual, by the comings and goings and discussions of the other residents on the floor of our hotel. The number of people who conduct all their conversations with outside voices is amazing. Anyway, there would be payback tomorrow morning as we dragged our suitcases down to the foyer at 8am before the sun rose.

The guy at reception unlocked the car park lift for us and the first step in a very long journey was taken. The drive to the exit was negotiated safely and then the exit door creaked and groaned after I pushed the exit button and stuttered to a stop. Here we go, I thought, transit day drama. I leant out and pushed the clearly signposted exit button again and the door miraculously opened - we were free. It would have been nice if the entry to the car park had been as clearly marked quipped Jayne.

Titian's St Jerome in Penitence from San Lorenzo.

Our route to the airport was a circuitous one because we needed to fill up the tank of the hire car. How many petrol stations are there on the lead in roads to the airport in Madrid, dear reader? None, actually. Why? Spain. Things are not what you might think they should be at times.

Anyway, tank full, we set off again into the Madrid morning peak. We had programmed Google to take us to the rental car return as Google suggested. Except it listed Terminal 1 and we were departing from Terminal 4. The journey to this point had been punctuated by the usual trauma of driving on unfamiliar roads in heavy traffic. As we neared the turn off I had cold feet and headed for Terminal 4 instead of the mapped route to Terminal 1.

A marigold to break up the text.

As we approached Terminal 4, it was again decision time. Do I take the road to arrivals or departures? Rental car return was at arrivals. I chose departures because we were leaving the country. Incorrect! It was a drop-off area only. A quick trip around the area and its numerous round-a-bouts had us shortly driving into a car spot at the Europcar rental, just prior to the 9:00am deadline. Key handed over, mobile phone signed, I’ll never get used to the lack of paperwork, and we headed for the terminal to check in.

This would be the next test. I couldn’t check in online because some of Jayne’s details were missing. This is not usually a problem, but booking through a third-party agency to get cheap Business Class flights meant I didn’t have the details. We were third in line when the desks opened and they called all the Business Class ticket holders straight to the attendants. Nice. We were sitting in the lounge in no time. It seemed an easy transit but we were both on edge and keen for a glass of cava. Not today, they had red or white wine or beer. Coffee and croissants it was; the bubbles would have to wait until we were on the plane.

Boarding happened on time and we left as scheduled. Double thumbs up to Cathay Pacific. The champagne was delightful and the meals okay. The plan was to sleep on this leg and stay awake on the next so when we arrived home, we would be ready to sleep. No, it didn’t happen. Jayne binged movies and I wrote the blog posts.

Another text breaker.

We landed in Hong Kong on time but the process through security was ludicrous. The queue stretched almost as far as the line to get into the Prado. We were directed to another area, about 500 metres away where at least there was no queue. 

Drappier champagne in the Cathay Business Lounge helped calm the nerves. Once again, comparisons with our national carrier are not flattering. The food offerings here were amazing but we did not have the time to explore them. Separate breakfast bar, noodle bar, teahouse and a bar for alcoholic beverages.

We were late leaving for reasons that weren't explained. The flight was uneventful except for a few minor bumps and the fact that Jayne did not receive her selected main meal again. Not what we'd been told to expect with Cathay.

Almost nine hours of flight time with minimal sleep again. In Sydney we were forced to wait 20 minutes for our disembarkation bay because it was blocked by an Emirates A380. Our bags were out early, well done Cathay, and customs was a breeze. Can anyone tell me why, in Sydney, we still need to fill in those ridiculous 'arrival cards' when everything should be available in digital format?

Our pick-up was a few minutes later than expected but we were at home by 10:30pm. All up, door-to-door we spent 32 hours in transit with less than an hour's sleep.

And that, dear reader, is a wrap. There will be another blog in March when Dave and I tackle the Tarkine again. The big trip in '26 will be a return to Europe, Tuscany with Matt's Produce and a cruise down the Nile on the way back to Australia. I still need to fill in the bit in between. Stay tuned.

Until next time.

Art for Art's Sake (Sydney - Perth)

And so dear reader today finds us in the Qantas Business Lounge at Perth airport. Yes, it’s time for another trip, albeit a brief one. By the time this gets published, we will be back home in Sydney. Today we are heading for a place off the grid. More on that later.

We left Sydney on Friday morning. Unlike our last trip to Perth, Qantas did everything right this time. As you know, I have not been a Qantas fan for some time and despite a smooth journey to Perth, it is still too soon to forgive them. They have much ground to make up.

Unhappily the alarm went off at 5:15am. We had pre-booked an Uber for 6:15am and all went smoothly. We had checked our bag, cleared security and were comfortably seated in the Qantas lounge in Sydney before 7am. Having lost my Platinum status, the Business Lounge is now only an option if we are flying Business Class. And we are today, thanks to my bank of Frequent Flyer points.

Unlike our last dodgy trip to Perth where we were diverted via Melbourne, this flight was direct. It was also on an A330-200 which means space and a flatbed, should my back require a stretch. A much better arrangement than the sub-par Business Class seats on the aging 737 fleet.

The flight was uneventful, although the landing was a little on the agricultural side. Our bag even arrived on the same plane. All was going well. Our first challenge was to find the train to Perth. Signage at Perth airport seems to be for those who already know their way around. We discovered this last year. While there were signs pointing to the trains, they soon disappeared, leaving us standing in a car park wondering where we went wrong.

Ever the problem solver, Jayne decided to ask someone in the terminal. Apparently, the trains are accessed at Redcliffe Station, a brief shuttle ride away or 20 minute walk, if you feel you need the trial of a bag drag. I wanted neither and opted for a taxi. Rome to Rio suggested a taxi fare would be around $35. Not even close and we saw parts of Perth we’d never seen before as the driver went out of his way to ensure a high tariff.

We were at the Adnate Art Hotel on Hay Street by midday. The hotel has a large mural painted on its side, a characteristic shared by other destinations in the group, hence today's title. Art for Art's Sake is by 10CC from way back when I was in year 10. Uncharacteristically, our room was not ready, so we went for a walk prior to finding a suitable watering hole - Willi’s Wine Bar in what was once the Royal Perth Hotel and were soon seated, enjoying a bottle of Fiano.

Finding a pub proved a little more difficult than we had imagined. There is still a pub on every corner in Sydney, not so in Perth. Willi’s was a welcome oasis in a desert of shopping options. 

Once we had checked in and stowed our bags, we decided an early dinner would be a priority. It’s only a two hour time difference but the early start was having an impact on energy levels. There was an Italian restaurant, Simple Italian, in the next block over, that had good reviews so that’s where we dined. Pizza, a pasta and lobster dish and a bottle of Montepulciano in an empty restaurant. Bonus. We wandered back to the hotel and had our complimentary nightcap before crashing (relatively) early.

Our last Friday night stay in Perth was on Murray Street which turned out to be party central. Hay Street was a little quieter except for the multi-story carpark near our hotel. The sound of over-revving cars was clearly heard until I drifted off to sleep.

Saturday morning brought overcast skies and eventually, rain. The latter not until we were safely at the airport. Hay Street was quite deserted. In fact, there were less people than Liberal nominations for the upcoming NSW council elections. Ha, laugh, so funny! And they want to run the state and the country. Anyway, we set off in search of a café for breakfast.

The ‘best coffee’ recommendation proved a dud because there was nowhere to sit. It was very much a take-away service. However, across the mall was Espresso and Prosecco. It had an indoor and outdoor option. It had the usual breakfast menu as well as some delectable Italian sweets. Cannoli for breakfast? It was possible. It was tempting. I remained strong. No cannoli.

Better than Prague and not as far to travel.

The café was next door to the London Arcade which sports a decorative clock above its archway. It chimed on the quarter hour and the jousting knights moved back and forth. Most exciting. Do not mock me, dear reader. Have you seen the Astronomical Clock in Prague? It attracts a far bigger crowd and is less spectacular.

As we were enjoying our coffee, we noticed a shop across the mall that had attracted a crowd, queued up around the corner of the building. This was unusual for this hour in Perth. As the knights jousted and the clock chimed 9am, the doors of YKC opened and the crowd surged into the shop. The queue, by this time, stretched down the alleyway and people just kept coming. Amazing. It is, according to Dr Google, a New Zealand clothing company. Street wear, if you will. The sort left over from the ‘90s, with baggy knee height crotches. Not quite my style.

Queued all the way down the lane they were.

Back to the hotel. Check out time and into an Uber for a much quicker and significantly cheaper trip back to the airport. Driving down the Perth streets revealed statues/sculptures just about everywhere we looked. I didn’t notice them last year even though we walked around the CBD. Must do a proper guided walking tour of Perth on our next visit.

We discovered once we had cleared security, that the Qantas Club was closed and we were diverted to the Business Lounge. Happy days.

Our next flight is to Learmonth, the airport for Exmouth, and the spectacular Ningaloo Reef. This trip is  he final piece of the COVID puzzle. Before the pandemic, I had planned a stay at Sal Salis. When we finally made the journey from Perth to Broome last year, we added a trip through the Kimberley to Darwin and in the re-organisation, Sal Salis got bumped.

Approaching Learmonth

Sal Salis is an eco-resort at Yardie Creek in the Cape Range National Park. Yes, it is glamping with fine dining. The tents are behind the sand dunes and it is a stroll to the water’s edge and the Ningaloo Reef. We will be off the grid for the next 5 days which is why this will be actually posted from Sydney.

The magical colours of the gulf.

Until tomorrow.

 

Mr Brightside (Paris - Doha - Sydney)

Yes, dear reader, I'm back home but there are still a couple of days in Paris to review as well as the journey back to Sydney. I should have completed this post last week, but jet lag and life got in the way. Our last few days in Paris coincided with the conclusion of the school holidays. The crowds thinned dramatically. Monday began in sunshine and we decided we would spend the day shopping. 

Monday

We strolled the few minutes down to the Jardin des Plantes. The popularity of the garden area was boosted by school children who were running throughout the area in groups. Apparently being supervised by their PDHPE teacher. It's tough work being a PE teacher, standing in the morning sun, issuing instructions to your students. Run here, run there, scrolling on your mobile, having a discreet cigarette. Any wonder it requires a university degree. Such intense lesson planning.

Pretty. No I don't know it's name. Maybe Andrea.

There was also a group of older people doing Tai Chi. Here the group leader was actually participating in the activity. Unlike the PE teacher. While they didn't draw a crowd, there were a number of people who were so bemused or amused by the activity that they paused to photograph the group as they pretended to be giant kelp plants being moved by the currents.

Further along, a woman strayed from the path onto the grass to photograph a plant. Her movement was meet with a shrill whistle. The garden police were watching. No-one is allowed on the grass. The woman stepped back onto safe ground and bowed in the direction of the grass protector. Fortunately my transgressions over the past few days went undetected. It's been a long time since anyone whistled at me.

Tulips.

Across the Seine we went onto the Rue Rivoli searching for two things: a place to have coffee and Coton Doux, my favourite French shirt store. The coffee proved elusive. The shirt did not. Coton Doux have an excellent range of colourful shirts but the range hasn't altered a lot over the years and some of my previous purchases are still available. The new shirt is basically white with road bikes as the pattern.

Shirt bagged, we went in search of coffee. Not so easy, as it turned out. It was nearing lunch time and the menu offerings had switched from petit déjeuner to déjeuner. We discovered Westfields. I know, right. There was one in Hamburg and now in Paris. Frank Lowy has a lot to answer to for.

Not at Westfields.

Like the man from ironbark, we wandered here, we wandered there and finally found a café that offered coffee and toasted sandwiches. Bonus. However, there was no room at the inn. On we went and eventually found a café that offered coffee and had seats in the sunshine protected from icy the northerly wind.

As we crossed the Seine back to the left bank, the rain was beginning again. As has been the pattern, it wasn't particularly heavy, but it was enough to keep us indoors for the remainder of the day. Luckily I keep a supply of essentials on hand while travelling. You know, wine, cheese and nibbles.

Tuesday

Another day of wandering and soaking up the Paris vibe commenced. Yesterday we began at the Jardin des Plantes, today was Tuileries. It doesn't have as many garden beds but it does have a huge fountain that is surrounded by seats. The northerly was still keeping temperatures down and ensuring that one side of the fountain was almost deserted. No-one wants to get sprayed by the fountain.

Be careful of the wind direction.

We headed out of the garden and towards Opera because our destination was Galeries Lafayette on  Haussmann. One of the most beautiful shopping centres in the world. It also has a viewing terrace that overlooks parts of Paris. While we had shopped here before we had not been to the terrace.

A Crab Apple in Tuileries.

Into the store that is reminiscent of David Jones in Elizabeth Street in Sydney and also NK in Stockholm. The latter because of the central space with the cafés overlooking the ground floor. Lafayette's dome is far more spectacular.

The Pantheon in the foreground.

From one escalator to another until the final ascent is made via stairs and out onto the rooftop terrace. It was surprisingly crowded. Jayne was asked by an American family to take their photo and did an excellent job ensuring her thumb adorned the photo. Take two. We enjoyed the view and sunshine and then exited on the other side where the escalators go all the way to the roof. No stairs. 

L'Opéra.

There were a number of cafés, perched on the edge of the atrium, that were enticing and calling us to stay a while. But this is Paris, a café would not do. Winegate was the place to stop and admire the stained glass. Not with a coffee but with champagne. Perfect. Expensive but perfect. We watched the groups of people who had paid for the privilege of walking onto the glass viewing platform. I entertained the thought briefly, but we would be required to queue and that wasn't happening.

Lafayette is worth a visit for the view alone.

This was our last full day in Paris and I had still not purchased any macarons. On leaving Winegate, we saw a Pierre Hermé counter. Possibly the most expensive macarons in the world, but hey, you only live once. They were delicious. And at $5 AUD each, they needed to be.

The most beautiful store.

We had lunch in a café by the Seine and people watched for a while before crossing the river one more time and walking home. The afternoon was reserved for packing and champagne.

The journey home begins

After many transit days of dragging bags across cobblestones, I decided the final transit would be in comfort and I ordered a taxi to drive us directly to the airport. Our plane was scheduled to depart at 9:05am which meant a 6am arrival at Charles de Gaulle. Dragging our bags down streets of cobblestones at 5am would not have been appreciated by anyone.

Our driver, booked for 5:30am, was 10 minutes early and despite the early hour, the traffic to the airport was surprisingly heavy. Still, we made CDG in good time and passed through the required checkpoint to be one of two guests for breakfast in the Qatar Lounge. 

Heading for the gate rekindled memories of the ill-fated 2012 trip when a wheelchair bound Jayne was wheeled on the roller coaster walkway to the security point. The walkway was functioning today and Jayne was under her own steam. Security caught me on that trip too. Today our carry on set off the alarms. Why? Hand warmers that we had purchased in Australia and didn't use in the Arctic Circle. They passed through Australia and Austria without problem, but not Paris.

That sorted, we eventually made the plane and our Q-suites. The business class seats on the 777 have their own sliding door providing more privacy. Excellent. We sat, champagne-less, on the tarmac for a while as a passenger was assessed and deemed too unwell to fly. Apparently alcohol can not be served on planes in France if they are grounded. We departed a little behind schedule but made the time up in the air and arrived in Doha on time.

Doha airport has just been awarded the gong for being the best airport in the world. Whatever that means. I subscribe to the Paul Kelly theory on this. He might think all cities are the same, I feel the same way about airports. Yes, it is beautiful but you could be anywhere in the world, shopping for designer brand products.

Looking down from the lounge.

And it is large. The train to transport you from one arm of the airport to another is inside the terminal. There is duplication of shopping opportunities and lounges. Being the home of Qatar airlines meant the lounge was next level. There were of course several lounges, as we found out when we couldn't get into the first one we came to.

The lounge we were redirected to was about a 15 minute walk away. It was worth it. The business lounge had two sides. One was for families and those who wanted peace and quiet opted for the other side. There were more staff than customers in the quiet side. Should you wish to use the toilet, you did so knowing that the attendant waited outside the door as you went about your business. Well, it was the business lounge. As you vacated the facility, the attendant went inside to clean up after you. It's important to stay tidy.

The 'quiet' business lounge.

The last leg was on an A380, my favourite plane. The flight was uneventful, we both got a little sleep and landed on time in Sydney.

The Transit curse

As you would be aware, dear reader, most of our transit days on this trip had some measure of drama. This one was no different. Jayne's e-ticket at the customs barrier was rejected three times and she had to go through the manual line.

We stood at the baggage carousel for quite some time with no result. Checking the app on my phone to see where the air tags were was not comforting. Our bags were, according to the app, 12,369 km away. Hmm, that's Doha. There was, of course, no-one to ask. Bags kept arriving, our tags kept reporting our bags were in Doha. I said to Jayne I would go looking for someone to report our luggage missing when another traveller said his bags were yet to arrive and he was also in business class.

Finally our bags, resplendent with their orange priority tags slid down the chute. The line at customs had significantly diminished while we waited so that was a positive. Or so we thought.

We reached the front of the 'nothing to declare' line and reported that Jayne's e-ticket was kept by the officer on the other side of the customs barrier. "No worries," came the reply. "Just join that line over there." He pointed to the much longer queue for passengers with something to declare.

Once again we reach the front of the line. "What do you have to declare?" Nothing the e-ticket was kept blah, blah. Same comment, "No worries, just join that line over there." We were heading for the x-ray and had the same conversation for the third time. Excellent. 

Bags x-rayed, we finally made it through to the taxi rank. No queue. Into the taxi and home.

As I finalise this post, we have been home for a week. Jet lag is still "killing me and taking control." A line from Mr Brightside by The Killers. It won't stop me travelling, but it hurts for a couple of weeks.

Until next time.

Like a hurricane (Siem Reap-Singapore-Sydney)

Uncharacteristically Jayne woke before the alarm and, as a consequence, woke me. Why, dear reader? Because she could. We deposited the suitcases outside the door prior to 6am, as requested and walked to breakfast one last time. There were more people in the dining room than I expected at this early time. If they were heading to Angkor Wat for the sunrise, they had missed that opportunity.

As we made our way back to our room to collect our hand luggage, it was obvious that our larger bags had not been collected. They were waiting patiently by our door. We would have to do the unthinkable and manage our own bags. That, is certainly a first world problem.

Unlike the bustling foyer of Hà Nôi, the lobby area at the Siem Reap Sofitel exudes a perpetual calm. This morning was no different. We checked out and before we could even sit down, our guide was next to us ready to shepherd us to the car. A guide? Unnecessary? Absolutely, but he was heading to the airport to pick up the next group of guests, this time for little brother company, Travel Marvel.

The drive was about 45 minutes and we chatted about the trip, Cambodia and the new airport provided, as a gift, by China. It is beneficial because it removes air and ground traffic from the Angkor temple precinct which will assist in the preservation of this amazing, historic site.

The airport was almost deserted when we arrived. It has been in use for just over a month, having just been officially opened by the prime minister, and is still shiny and new, from the marble floors to the giant golden statue of Buddha that greets you on the happy side of immigration and security. 

The face of Buddha.

This facility along with the new road system infrastructure, is a source of great pride and the embodiment of the promise of a brighter future for the next generation of Cambodians, after such a dark recent past. Our guide told us that the vast area surrounding the airport, currently undeveloped 'jungle' as he termed it, is earmarked to become an urban area in the coming years, providing housing, jobs and community facilities.

Plenty of space at the new airport.

Inside the complex, the airline lounges are not yet open, although there is a generic user-pays option for $35USD per person. An option we did not take. We sat down near our gate and watched the crowd slowly build. In the next two hours we only saw two planes, both small discount versions of larger airlines. A very different feel to other international airports.

A busy day ahead.

Our plane was late arriving and the ground crew moved to a pace and rhythm all their own. There is no need to rush. After all, we have a significant layover in Singapore. The champagne welcome on the plane made the wait worthwhile. Qantas could learn a thing or two about short-haul Business Class. The trip from Sydney to Perth is twice as long as this trip and the seats and service are half as good.

Piper Heidsieck in hand, ours, the head steward then came around to take our lunch order. And refill our champagne.  All went well. We watched movies we either won't remember or won't admit watching. By 3:15pm we were seated in the Silver Kris Lounge in Singapore, counting down the hours until the flight home. The layover was longer than I thought it would be, at least 5 hours until we bored. Sorry, board. I was getting ahead of myself.

The last leg of the trip will also be travelled in style. The top deck of the A380, my favourite aircraft. I'm ready for my champagne, my pre-ordered lobster thermidor and a lot of sleep. In the meantime, let's talk toilets. Generally when I've been on a stopover in Singapore, it's been for work and I was in the Qantas Lounge where everything is westernised to cater for the clientele. The Singapore Lounge is, well, different. When I opened the door to the cubicle, the toilet seat rose to greet me. Then I was surprised by a heated seat. Not needed in this climate, I would suggest. Of course it came equipped with a Japanese style bidet and even a 'bum gun' that is popular throughout Vietnam. Naturally the  toilet also flushes itself. After a slight misunderstanding with one of the staff (not the Alan Jones sort), I was somewhat dismayed to find that I had to wash and dry my own hands.

Jayne remarked on more than one occasion how much better the Singapore lounge was when compared to the Qantas lounge. The choice of food and drink was both quality and extensive. And then there's the toilets. Jayne came back laughing. It really is quite the experience. A pity I couldn't take a photo.

The plane was on time pushing back but slightly delayed at take off as we sat in a queue. Regardless we arrived in Sydney on time. Dinner on the last leg, courtesy of 'book the cook' was Lobster Thermidor accompanied by several glasses of Piper Heidsieck bubbles. Very civilised. I watched a movie, sorted out my bed and went to sleep to be woken 30 minutes out from Sydney. Business class is the only way to travel on a long haul flight.

Lobster thermidor.

That, as they say, is a wrap. Until February next year. The northern lights, Scandinavia and Europe. 

Oh, the title? Well, dear reader, we commenced this trip with a song because it is a favourite of mine, so it is only fitting that we conclude in the same fashion. Like a hurricane by Neil Young. The man is a musical genius. He's also produced some pretty average stuff. Don't believe me? Try playing his catalogue from the beginning through till today. I did. Once. Epic fail. No one is that strong. So yeah, don't do that. No one deserves that much punishment, except maybe Morrison, Abbott, Howard, Dutton. Not necessarily in that order. Anyway, have a listen. One of the best guitar solos ever.

Until next time, stay safe.

I'm Back (Sydney - Dubai - Budapest)

Well hello dear reader, yes I'm back. Not quite Slim Shady style. Much more subdued and far less violent. Although today's title is attributed to the enduring Eminem, circa the year 2000. Ah, what a year. Not a pandemic in sight. I apologise for the lack of photos to break up the text, I shall do better in future posts.

Sydney

Currently I'm still in Sydney, trying to pack and being distracted by commencing this post. It is, uncharacteristically, a gorgeous winter's day. The sort of weather we used to experience before consecutive El Nina events and the ever increasing impact of climate change. Of course, for the conservative voters amongst you, climate change is just an exaggeration and work to reduce its impact is an impediment to growing a bank balance that you'll never live to spend. Sigh.

I digress. This trip is the twice postponed European river cruise. Cheers Covid. Third time lucky. It would appear, with a little over 24 hours to go, that this time we "might just make it after all." My apology, I came over all Mary Tyler Moore Show theme, perhaps a less threatening choice than Eminem. Anyway, originally this was to celebrate a special birthday for Jayne. Missed that boat, eh? See what I did there? I know, but I'm a tad rusty after being stuck at home for so long.

This time last year we were in a government imposed lockdown. This year the lockdown has been self-imposed as we try to stay covid free. We are still masking up when we go out, unlike the majority of people. We have also received our second booster, so there is little else we can do to ensure this trip happens. Masks are compulsory on the flight. I can deal with that for a few hours, but for 22 hours? It will be a challenge.

Our bags are packed and we are counting down the time for our car to the airport. Surprisingly I just received an email from APT. Hmmm. It won't be good news will it? So, the nice European summer, read drought, (did I mention climate change?) means river levels are very low and at one point we need to transit to a different ship - one assumes on the other side of the dry bit of river. There goes the benefit of not having to pack and unpack. Further, we might not be able to make our final destination, Amsterdam, on the water. In a 'kiss and make up' moment, should the latter occur, we get a 50% discount on an APT Mekong River cruise in 2023. Ok then. I think I can cope with that. I wonder where all the rain is that should be falling on Europe. Checking the weather radar... oh, yeah, right. I can see where it is.

Sydney International

Through the magic of time dislocation we have now progressed to the Qantas First Class Lounge. It is, of course, fabulous. As travel tradition demands, we commenced the evening with champagne, followed by salt and pepper calamari. To this we added a nice 2018 cabernet sauvignon along with cumin lamb with noodles for me while Jayne had slow cooked beef brisket.  Another glass of red was followed by a deconstructed pavlova and Jayne had a tart of some description. The meal and wine went some way to alleviating the stress that going through security always seems to generate. The priority lane is all well and good but the advantage dissipates by the time we all reach the dreaded x-ray machine.

Of course the body scanner rejected me. Now don't be harsh my dear reader, no shaming please. It rejected my boots. The R.M.Williams boots I regularly wear on flights. They have been to many destinations around the world and have passed through all manner of technological machinery. Not today. The attendant pointed to the image and the coloured area at my right ankle. "It's your boots. You'll need to take them off". I responded that these boots had passed through many machines but no, back out, boots off, through again. This time the machine rejected my left bootless ankle and my cleverly hidden handkerchief. Dangerous items, hankies. At least this time he was amused, no boots, same problem, "The machine heard you talking about it," he quipped. After a quick pat down, I was safely on the other side.

Emirates fly from Gate 61 which is almost in the next suburb. We strolled down through the closed shops and renovations, it's still not a pretty picture but looking better than it was. Straight on to the plane, gear stowed, blanket and pillow sorted, champagne in hand - it was all becoming real. When the second champagne was served, it was obvious we had a departure problem. A sick passenger was about to be disembarked which meant their luggage required disgorging from the bowels of the A380. And then all carry on had to be checked. Anyway, we left an hour late and arrived in Dubai and hour behind schedule. We have a four hour layover so it isn't really a problem for us. What's a few hours in the Lounge? We were fortunate, but there were many other people who were rushing to make their connections.

Dubai

The flight was a bit bumpy but uneventful. We had issues with Jayne's headphones which will require a trip to JB HiFi when we return to Australia. The food and wine were very good. Jayne even slept, for the first time, ever, and quietly admitted that Business Class really was the way to travel. Winner. It's taken me years to wring that endorsement from her.

We went through security again. Shoes off, watch off, bracelet off. Computer? Nope, it was allowed to stay in the bag. Off to the Business lounge where we were denied entry. Over to one of the friendly attendants, who looks at my boarding pass and says, "Wouldn't you rather be in the First Class Lounge"? and pointed in the opposite direction, away from the milling crowd. Well, now that you mention it, yes, yes I would.

Looking down on those less fortunate

Magically, pastries appeared

And here we sit, following second breakfast, charging phones and computers while gearing up for the 5 hour flight to Budapest. Australia is such a long way from other parts of the world and a full day in a plane, even Business Class, is not my idea of fun. That said, there is little choice until matter transporters become the preferred mode of travel.

Budapest

Another uneventful flight and one that was quite sparsely populated. We did the usual things, admired the roses, drank champagne, ate food and slipped in and out of consciousness while watching movies. Or  more precisely, staring at the screen. Even as I sit typing this in our hotel room, I am experiencing 'flight movement'. The bed should be extra fun tonight.

Fresh flowers on the plane - never seen that before

It's always a treat to arrive at an overseas destination and walk into the arrival hall to see a dark-jacketed man holding a board with your name on it. Especially when you are totally new to the country, don't speak the language and know absolutely nothing about where you are.

They love their religious statues. A little bit too much.

This post is long enough without any further musings about Budapest. There is much to say but I feel this will be drawn out over the next 5 days or so. I'm tired. You're tired. And I still haven't loaded a few photos to break up the text. I'm on it.

Until tomorrow.

Songbird (Marramarra Lodge)

Good morning my dedicated reader and welcome to my 300th blog post (sorry no pictures). That is a lot of holidaying. Fear not. I am focussed on bringing you many more. Indeed, there are plans afoot for 2021 already commencing with South Australia in January. Specifically, Adelaide, the Adelaide Hills and the Barossa Valley.

I'm here to report that our last night wasn't totally without incident. The birds began early in the morning. The Koel bird continued his mournful complaints about lack of sex, but was joined by a White-bellied Sea Eagle, numerous kookaburras and other local feathered fiends. I have no idea what was annoying the Eagle but he was very vocal for a very long time.

It was a pleasant morning and we again had breakfast on the pool deck stopping to chat with other guests about the bird 'song'. It turns out that Rick and Cathy operate their own luxury accommodation in Riverland South Australia. Check it out, it looks amazing. The Frames. Broken Hill was on my travel itinerary next year and The Frames might be just the place to rest up on the way home. On second thought, The Frames is a destination in itself. Stay tuned.

Obviously the birds inspired today's title and there were many choices available. I opted for Songbird by Fleetwood Mac from their 1977 album Rumours, a classic from start to finish. Mind you, I'm not sure the cacophony of noise that wrested me from my sleep could be considered bird song.

And so our time at Marramarra comes to an end. It wasn't quite what I expected but the weather curtailed our plans to get out on the river in kayaks. We spent the morning soaking up time until our departure; breakfast on the pool deck, time in the lodge on the computer checking out The Frames and chatting with other guests.

Marramarra bills itself as a luxury retreat and on the surface it ticks all the boxes. Jayne likened it to an adolescent, he/she knows what required to be an adult but isn't quite there. It lacked finesse. At Jonah's you were finessed without knowing you were being finessed. At times here it seemed all too obvious, the enquiries about whether we had enjoyed the meals were there, but ... did they really care? Probably not and they need to make the guests feel like they really do care, even if they don't.

Would I return? No. Been there, done that, but I'm glad I did it. If nothing else it was very relaxing and I discovered another place to holiday, hopefully sometime in 2021.

We are back at home now and are planning a couple of staycation excursions over the next few days. There will be one final post to bring everything to a conclusion, probably on Sunday.

Until next time

Peace and Love (Wellington, New Zealand)

Wellington. Yeah. I like it.  Compared to a capital city like Canberra it is a definite winner. It has a great feeling, something like Hobart, although it feels bigger. I assume being contained by the water has an impact there.  There are plenty of venues to eat and drink. I could come back and spend much more time here exploring this lovely, relaxed place. It has been cool, around 16°, but not cold.

There is some funky sculpture around the place and, when you least expect it, a classic piece of architecture from yesteryear. Like the little place above, it's a restaurant and I would have loved to have had the time to eat there. The building was just sitting there hiding among some, well, not high rise, but you get the idea. In Sydney we would have bulldozed it on the basis that it was no longer significant to the concrete, glass and plastic world we have created.

Just around the corner and open to the public

Establishments to eat and drink appear to dominate. The culture is laid back and no-one appears to be in a hurry, despite the proliferation of joggers. It's all good, as someone remarked at the café this morning. Which is probably a good place to commence the day.

So, my dear reader, after a fairly average night's sleep, it was time to tackle Wellington. Breakfast first. We wended our way to the Flight Coffee Hangar in Dixon Street. Or, if you're a local, the Hangar. Regardless, you need to stop by; for more information, click here. 

The coffee was awesome. The world was calmed. Life stopped, just for a moment. Then it resumed. The room was all polished concrete and blocks. The crowd never diminished. Anyone who left was replaced as the door swung back and forwards. The local police take their coffee here. Breakfast ... oh, yeah ... bacon, tomatoes and sourdough. And, um, yeah, Jayne probably had eggs, whatever. And then ... the OJ ... seriously, it doesn't get any better than this.

The body rebuilt, it was time to tackle the the museum. Te Papa, to be exact. It is, or, et us, the museum of New Zealand. Entry is free, although there are a number of places where you are offered the opportunity to make a contribution to support the museum. Just do it. What is on offer at the museum is quite remarkable and it can't/won't continue without public support - unless of course the NZ government takes an alternate view to that of my home country. What is that dear reader? Oh, yes, I see ... well, donate anyway, it will help the museum.

I don't have a lot of photos from the museum. The simple reason is that the things I wanted to photograph were considered culturally sensitive, so no photography. Fair enough. But this one is a cracker, particularly if you are Australian. An eye-catching poster. They could have had any number of pictures from the Australian fires underneath to illustrate the point. That would have been the simplest and most poignant of exhibitions ... unless you are a journalist for a Murdoch media outlet and believe the fires have nothing to do with climate change.

Well, NZ can acknowledge its existence, come on Australia.

In we went and up the stairs to the first exhibition: Gallipoli. There's a fun way to begin a day. A review of the wanton loss of human life, in particular, young male life, from small communities that couldn't afford it. From an Australian view point, it was interesting to see the Kiwi perspective, particularly since it has never really been acknowledged in our school history texts. ANZAC. What? The NZ means New Zealand? Who knew? 

There were some confronting graphics which elicited audible gasps from the observers. Overall, I wonder what these exhibitions are meant to achieve. This one had an indigenous focus and looked at the Māori involvement and how that came about. It is difficult to look at some of these events in retrospect and accept them, even understanding the intent. 

Feeling incredibly uplifted after the Gallipoli exhibition, (yes, sarcasm, just being explicit for ... you know who you are) we continued our exploration of the museum. Next was a series of exhibits that explored the concept of the shaky isles, history of and adaptation to tremors and volcanic activity. My feet were getting sore and we hadn't even left the second level.

Level 3 was entitled "Blood Earth Fire" and looked at the human invasion of New Zealand. Not a hugely difficult task when you are looking at 7,000 years of history. Imagine if Australia ever acknowledged its indigenous history? Conservatively we are looking at 70,000 years. Given current scientific dating techniques, we could actually be talking about 120,000 years, or more. Yeah, but we never had a treaty like the Waitangi Treaty, so ... imagine the difference it would have made ... an indigenous voice in parliament from the beginning, recognition ... 

There was more Māori stuff on the next level. Exploration of how the Māori came to be in New Zealand, where they came from and the impact they had on the land. The arrival of the Pākehā (white people) and the massive change as a result of their arrival, not just in social terms, but in the use of the land. Apparently, European settlement in those days meant clear the trees for sheep and cattle. Just like Australia. It was rape and pillage of the land. The land would never recover. A good reference here if you are seeking further understanding from an Australian perspective is Deep Time Dreaming or Dark Emu.

It was after 2pm when we strolled back into into daylight. We were surprised. Where had the last 2 hours gone? A few minutes earlier we had been discussing lunch. Admittedly we did explore the art exhibits, but really? We paused to adjust to the glare of daylight (without smoke haze) and then set out for the cable car. Yes dear reader, Wellington has a cable car. We needed the map to find it, despite having walked past it twice. It is carefully hidden in Cable Car Alley.

So, what did it look like? Unsurprisingly, a red cable car, the likes of which you've seen around the world. The concept is the same, it's a tram/car, attached to cables that haul it up a mountain side. As far as that goes, it met the criteria. We reached the top of Wellington: the Botanic Gardens, the Observatory, a café that served craft beer and suburbia with a view of the bay. Photos of view achieved, it was beer time in the afternoon sun. There was a cable car museum also, but, hey, life is too short for that.

Back at sea level we had a brief diversion to Countdown (Woolworths if you are Australian) and then back to the hotel before heading out for lunch/dinner at the Thistle Inn.

Read on, it'll make sense. And, no, it's not what you're thinking.

Walking around Wellington, and previous research, revealed some interesting things. Firstly, Wellington is a city that prides itself on the number of residents who choose to walk to work or catch public transport. Really? There is a Wilson Car park on every corner - parking from $4. And there were no cars on the roads. It was eerily quiet at times. As for walking ... electric scooters. Lazy bastards. Walk like the advertising material says.

Secondly, the pedestrian lights. They certainly keep you guessing. There are the standard sets: red man, green man. Variation one: the second countdown before the lights change and you know you are toast to oncoming traffic. Variation two: a red man, green lady. Gender equity, yeah? Nuh. The lady looks like Mary Poppins without her carpet bag. What century is this? Variation three: the haka. I'm not sure how to describe it but both the red and green man are involved and it is definitely the haka.

The more I look at this, the more I believe it is a woman doing the haka.

After that brief diversion, the Thistle Inn, click here. A corner pub. A gastro pub in NZ terms. Lots of polished timber, not just on the floor. Tables, bar stools, a glass floor section looking back to a bygone era. Friendly staff, great atmosphere ... am I sounding like an ad? It was a great way to spend the afternoon. The crowd appeared to be 'academic'. Well, we were near a university. That didn't detract from the atmosphere or the wine or the food.

In other posts, I have explored the concept of the "best fish and chips" in Sydney. Well, today I have expanded the search to include Wellington. Yes, my dear reader, not even UberEats will get your fish'n'chips to you in Sydney from Wellington without them being soggy. But this place is seriously worth a visit. And they have a dining room. With starched table cloths and silverware. Ok, the silverware isn't real, but they have gone the distance. I could easily spend a day here.

The title today? I'm not trying to make a habit of a late reveal, it was more, well, disinterest. Peace and Love by the House of Shem (2017) was a nifty little reggae number playing in the museum today. My only concern was that it is religious song, written and performed by a local church group. So, I'll just leave that there. And not make any further comment. On this page. Just in my head.

And so, who knows what tomorrow brings? Well, I do, sort of, the drive to Napier.

Until then.