Heroes (Budapest)

Good morning, dear reader. An early reveal of today's title, a David Bowie classic from 1977. Sing it with me, "If I were king ...". Good times. The reason will be become clear shortly. You will also be relieved to know that this post is relatively brief in comparison to what you've endured to date. We spent the day, well, part of it, on the Hop-on-hop-off bus and the rest relaxing and catching up on processing my photos.

You may recall in my last post, I challenged my children to be the first one to respond. The first to do so would have the title of "favourite child" bestowed upon them. Two of our three offspring replied in a timely fashion. One is yet to acknowledge my request. As is often the case with siblings, there is a dispute as to the actual winner. The decision has been referred to the bunker, NRL style, and the ultimate winner will be revealed throughout the course of this post. To more important matters.

We walked through the Castle District to the funicular this morning and travelled very sedately down the hill to the Danube to catch the Big Bus. We caught a similar contraption in Wellington, New Zealand, some years back. It is certainly a mode of travel from yesteryear and relies on the weight balance of one car going up the hill as the other travels down. Quaint would be the description. This morning's descent was uncrowded and smooth.

Old world charm

The Big Bus was waiting patiently for our arrival at the funicular stop. We presented our pre-purchased tickets and were waved inside by a disinterested staffer. Apparently the concept of service in Hungary is different to that of the western world. We should be grateful the staff are favouring us with their attention. It is most certainly not a case of the customer is always right - and to be honest, I'm OK with that. Anyway, no one checked our tickets which meant they weren't activated, not Pete Evans style, but on the computer that registers we have commenced our 24 hour ride period.

The ubiquitous Parliament

The first two stops were not particularly populated although the bus became very crowded at Parliament. We had chosen to sit upstairs in the open air, well, for COVID risk management, (and also because it brought back childhood memories of travelling with my grandfather in Sydney, as I always made him sit upstairs). As we pulled out from Parliament, the women behind us began to cough. No masks. Not happy. Having come this far, we don't want to catch the plague right before we go on the cruise. The coughing continued intermittently until our stop, Heroes Square in the City Park. Now you understand the title for this post.

On the way to the Park, we stopped outside the Opera House. The one that doesn't appear in the Lonely Planet Guide. We did not alight from the bus. I guess the reality of seeing more golden, over the top decadence was, well, too much. Maybe next time. With a recital.

The Heroes Square is a massive open paved area. In its centre is a 36m tall obelisk topped by the Archangel Gabriel holding the crown of Hungary he/she (do angels have gender? oh, yeah, Catholic church) allegedly offered to St Stephen. Behind it, on both sides are two arced structures, each bearing 7 statues of some of the Kings of Hungary. Very Romanesque, in fact it reminded me of the forecourt at the Vatican. Before the obelisk lies the tomb of the Unknown Soldier (minus any bodies as no one is actually buried there).

From the "Park", we walked to one of the hidden treasures of Budapest, the Vajdahunyad Castle, modelled on Dracula's castle in Transylvania. This had been recommended by Emoke, our tour guide on day 1. We didn't go inside. It was all rather crowded, so we walked the paths outside and photographed statues, as you do. One particular statue, named, wait for it, Anonymous - yeah, I don't get it either, was supposed to be some charm for writers. If you rub the nib of the pen in the statue's hand it improves your prowess as a writer. So, my dear reader, you have noticed the difference in my prose? I rubbed his nib. It's size and shape felt strangely familiar and it all felt wrong somehow.

Nice view with the light poles

Anonymous

The hidden gem castle has the most pathetic moat I've ever seen.  No, seriously, it's dodgy. I could walk through it. And, in a way that even the French would be impressed by, they destroyed the best photographic opportunities by placing large poles in the middle of the vista. We have since learnt that these light poles are there in the middle of the water because the manmade lake becomes a winter time skating rink.

There were still things to explore in this area, but we decided to head back to the bus stop and onto our next destination: the most beautiful café in the world. Allegedly (I don't want to offend anyone).

The New York Café. Special. Cool. Whatever. We made it inside. Just. The waiting area was woefully inadequate for the volume of trade they were doing. There was a mass of people, mostly seated. We weren't seated and weren't likely to be before the coming of the Messiah. First or second coming, depending on your religion. So, like the Australians we are, we left. It's a special space, but really, you're just having coffee. Or worse, tea.

I always look at the ceiling while drinking coffee, generally when it's bad...

Whatever. Hot and tired, we returned to the Big Bus and headed back across the river to Buda and the funicular. There was a queue here as well but it moved at reasonable speed and, given we had tickets from the morning, we were able to skip ahead of a few people who needed to buy theirs.

The plan, when we got to the top, was to head to a bar and have a beer. That was the plan. Reality had other ideas. Every bar was packed. There were tour groups everywhere. OK then, let's head to the Hotel. The Rooftop bar doesn't open until 4pm, so that was out. The downstairs bar, yep, it was also full. There was no room at the inn. The only option was lunch. We repaired to the restaurant and had a typical tourist lunch, the signature burger and a bottle of Hungarian red wine. The view from the restaurant is stunning. It looks across Fisherman's Bastion to the Parliament. It is a vista I never tire of, with the added bonus of people watching.

They serve McGuigan's wine! That was unexpected.

Post lunch it was time to blog and process some photos. Then happy hour in the Executive Lounge. Sadly the children had departed and it was much quieter and more enjoyable without them. 

The following morning was breakfast and packing. We left the hotel to transfer to the AMA Venita that was waiting for us on the Pest side of the Danube. We checked in, left our bags and walked along the river bank towards Parliament. About 300 metres south of the Parliament, there is a memorial to the Jewish people who were shot and thrown into the river during the Second World War. It is a series of period shoes, cast in iron and attached to the promenade. They depict the fact that, before they were shot, the victims were instructed to remove their shoes as these were a valuable commodity in wartime and could be resold. 

Memorials are one of those things. There were people taking selfies or having their photo taken with the shoes. One child had his foot a shoe and was photographed by his mother. All entirely inappropriate. We witnessed similar disrespectful behaviour at the 9/11 memorial in New York.

We then headed back to Duncorso for a lunchtime beer and some people watching before we eventually walked back to the ship. The Venita has a capacity of 164. There are only 71 passengers on this journey so there were plenty of people opting for a cabin upgrade. Having already unpacked, we were not interested.

The 300 year old acacia. The oldest tree in Budapest we are told.

We have met many people already and we were invited to the smaller dining room for dinner to get to know some other passengers. The food was lovely as was the accompanying wine. It was a later night than anticipated which is why this post has now combined two days and is still a day late.

Getting back to the favourite child situation ... the bunker has just made a decision ... it's coming through now ... it's Caitlin.

Until tomorrow.

Distant Sun (Wellington to Napier, New Zealand)

I would like to commence this post with a confession: Lexi is right. There. I said it. Well, I typed it. Don't give me that who-is-Lexi stuff, dear reader, here is a link to her work: avaycay.com and if you are not familiar with it - shame on you.

Random flower. Pretty.

I thought we could do justice to the North Island of NZ by staying 2 nights in each place. Lexi always cautions 3 nights is better. I am always worried about getting caught with nothing to do and we had really limited time on this trip ... so 2 nights at each destination it was. We have just arrived at Napier, our second base and already I know it should have been staying 3 nights - I didn't really want to leave Wellington. Ah well, you live and learn. When I can convince Jayne to retire, we'll have all the time in the world. And no money.

Today was a travel day, so we packed up and left Wellington to head for Napier. As a direct drive it is around 4 hours, but we decided to take the scenic route and stop along the way. So it was a full day event.

Just outside the town centre

Our first stop was Martinborough, just over an hour's drive from the capital. Theoretically this was my breakfast stop. We arrived about 10:45, found a parking spot on the square and headed for the OMG Café. Great name. The G stands for 'goodness' - wouldn't want to offend anyone, eh? The coffee was excellent. The service was great, but the time that elapsed before my toast arrived saw the sun  move through several phases. I got so bored I logged into free wifi at the real estate agent across the street. This then came up on my FB which prompted people to ask why I was looking at real estate in NZ. The answer? I can't continue to live in a country where Morrison is the PM.

The real reason we come here

Anyway, the coffee was worth the drive. The sourdough miche was not worth the wait. That said, Martinborough is a quaint little town and worth a visit. It has wineries, many of which are accessible on foot from the main street. Literally 10 minutes walk. There is also a wine centre in town if you CBF walking to the winery. Not for me though, we had to get to Napier.

The next distraction was Stonehenge. Yep. You read that correctly dear reader. No. Not on the Salisbury Plain, but somewhere between Martinborough and Carterton. The GPS was not kind on this journey and had us drive 6 km to turn around and head back to the correct turn off. Maybe it was some weird magnetic force.

Welcome to Stonehenge NZ style

Stonehenge Aotearoa was smaller than the original and far less crowded, but no less out of the way. It was $15 entry per adult, but hey, I'd driven all the way out here. We had a chat with the woman on the desk and then went to the 11 minute video presentation - it was fascinating and I learned a lot about the structure. It's been a few years since we visited the original, but I learned more here. The acoustics are incredible. Jayne stood in the middle of the henge and I leant against the outside wall and we had a discussion at normal volume and could hear everything clearly. We would have been 20 metres apart. 

The other key point of interest was the zodiac. I learned that I am not a Scorpio but a Libran (as are David and Cait while Dan is actually a Leo like Jayne). Well, at least we were the one star pattern initially. I'm not sure how I feel about the change. I've been lied to all these years. Apparently it is the fault of some Pope back in the 1200s - that makes eminent sense. If you dig deep enough, the Catholic Church and/or the British can be found responsible for most screw ups in this world. And probably the next. If it exists.

Following the Henge we headed for Pūkaha, a wildlife centre at Mt Bruce. The GPS lady steered us through Masterton and then just out of town announced that our destination had been reached. We were in the middle of nowhere. At that point I gave up. Reset the overly aggressive, shouty GPS to take us to Napier and about 30km down the road we came across the wildlife centre. WTF. I still have no idea.

We stopped. Well, we were there and it's not every day you get see a white kiwi and other assorted wildlife. Jayne amused the lady at the desk by asking if the walk was "up hill and down dale"? No, really amused her. She reached for a couple fo children's books that convert Australian colloquialism into plain Kiwi. Jayne's expression was not in there. Astounding.

Back in the car for the long haul to Napier. No more stops.

Reflections from the drive? New Zealanders love golf courses and agapanthus. Probably in equal number, they were everywhere. They don't like overtaking unless there is a dedicated lane. My aggressive GPS has a knack of issuing instructions way early or just a fraction too late. Despite that, we made it.

Again with the song reveal at the end of the post. I know, I apologise. The simple truth? Jayne's been trawling through titles while I finished the post. And in the end came up with Distant Sun by Crowded House. I'd be interested to hear from your interpretation as to why that is today's title.

Until tomorrow

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.

Slice of Heaven (Wellington, New Zealand)

It's January. So clearly it's time to be anywhere but Sydney. That's correct my dedicated reader, it's the first vacay of the year. Vacay? Yes, my boomer friend, vacay, it's millennial talk for vacation. Aren't they clever? They saved one whole syllable. So thrifty, the younger generation. Unless it comes to money.

This beautiful flowering tree was everywhere

This morning saw drizzle in Sydney. Exciting, but a tease for the rain that is really needed across the whole state. No, make that country. The holiday blog is usually not too political as you would know my astute reader. However, writing from the seventh state of Australia, aka, New Zealand, in a time of environmental crisis and a leadership void, remaining Jane Austen, bat-shit-boring, might present as a challenge. I will try ... actually, no chance. Therefore, if you qualify as a RWFW*, probably best to leave now. I'll give you a minute ... still here? Ok then.

Where was I? Oh, yes, the Sydney weather. The smoke was supposed to have cleared today. I saw no evidence of that. It was cloudy and there was light drizzle but the smoke seemed to be there. This was later confirmed as we sat in the lounge at the airport and again as we took to the air. I have lived in Sydney, or thereabouts, for almost 60 years and I can never recall such putrid air quality or such devastation as a result of bushfires. Generally, we get smoke haze in autumn, for a couple of days, when the RFS and National Parks' people are conducting hazard reduction or back-burning operations. Oh, wait. That's not possible. Because apparently the current fires are because we don't back-burn, according to the RWFWs. However, we haven't really seen the sun or blue sky in Sydney for over a month.

Sorry, sorry, I'll get back to the vacay. But, imagine if NZ was the seventh state and Jacinda was our PM. AWESOME!

I like this guy's attitude. And the blue sky.

We landed in windy Wellington after a very pleasant and uneventful flight. Lunch was lovely as was the accompanying champagne and wine. Service was professional and friendly, cheers Qantas. The only thing missing when we landed was the wind. There was a breeze, but not wind, and it was quite pleasant, around 18°. We picked up the car - a Corolla, with GPS. Wait, I ordered a GPS - oh ... yeah ... best to take the portable GPS too, in case the one in the car doesn't work. Nice. For them. The GPS worked. Why wouldn't it in a brand new car? Hertz, we need to talk.

A reasonably benign drive to the Sofitel despite the GPS trying to take me around the block. That's twice in two weeks now and in different countries. They might have a nice, polite, British voice, but they can't be trusted.

Bags dropped. Car valeted (is that a word?). Room surveyed. Time to hit the capital of NZ. Wow, that didn't take long. We were back at the hotel in 15 minutes. Come on, I'm joking. Five minutes walk placed us at the waterfront, where all the action takes place in Wellington. Maybe. Maybe not. I'm not judging. 

Sea urchins. I get it.

What I did see were far too many people jogging with backpacks. Surely they weren't running home? And far too many people on scooters. Not children. Adults, on electric scooters. Well, some of them were old, but they clearly weren't adults.

The foreshore area is quite pleasant. It was sunny, a little breezy, cool, blue sky. Anyone from fire-ravaged parts of Australia would be rapt. A tourist and/or afterwork mecca for a meal and a drink. There were plenty of bars and eateries. And people jogging and scootering, but I think I mentioned that. Aside from the distracting people there are sculptures dotted around the area, some obvious in intent, others not so much, but they add to the general vibe. 

The fall of Rome?

Fashions were interesting. Either there are a lot of Canadians here on holiday (sorry, eh) or the locals all wear shorts and t-shirts. They tended to contrast with the puffy jackets and sou'westers, scarves and beanies.

The wander around town revealed the usual global businesses, so there is no need to name them. But, if you wanted to have really shit American coffee made by a mermaid you could do that. Equally, you could shop at Australia's number one department store, because there is no other store like ... You get the picture.

After the initial reconnoitre of the waterfront, we returned to choose a place for dinner. There were plenty of options, but given the food we had in the lounge in Sydney and then on the plane and the time difference, we weren't really that hungry. Although we knew we'd have to eat something.  The choice was the Crab Shed. Be adult, don't think that. Anyway, if you're a Kiwi, it's pronounced Creb Shid. However, there was a 30 minute wait for the table. So, no crabs for us. Tonight at least. 

The view from the hotel window. It's hilly.

Eventually we sought shelter from the breeze at Portofino, an Italian place that offered a wide menu, an interesting wine list and a very loud waitress. Tonight, though, it was to be three entrées to keep body and soul together. With a robust rosé from Gisborne. Nice.

Then back into the breeze and the growing dusk to walk up the hill back to the hotel to plan tomorrow's activities. Well, that part is Jayne's responsibility. My work is done, almost, I still have to vet the photos.  And I did manage to get us here. Oh, yeah, and then there is the blog, which I am concluding now as I drink a nice cup of tea. True story.

Oh! I almost forgot to reference the song title for this post. Is there any other way to commence a vacay in heaven? Slice of Heaven, the 1986 eminently hummable hit song by NZ legend Dave Dobbyn. If you haven't heard it click here. Sorry about the ads.

At this infant stage of the holiday, I make the bold statement that ALL titles will be songs from Australian bands/musicians from the seventh state. Let's face, the choices are almost endless: Crowded House, Split Enz, Mi Sex, Dragon, Shihad, Flight of the Conchords, 30 Odd Foot of Grunts, Wilde and Reckless ... what? You haven't heard of the last two bands. Talk to Dr Google.

Until tomorrow.

* rightwing fuckwit