Wintertime in Amsterdam (London to Amsterdam aboard the Viking Venus)

And London is almost a memory, dear reader. It is our last day here and we will be joining our fellow cruise travellers later today. I must say I have enjoyed our time here much more than I expected. I suspect we will be back if for no other reason than to visit Zoë en route to Scotland and Wales. Both countries are still on our list. Although I imagine we will be here at a warmer time of year. That said, the cold weather is easily endured with the right clothes.

The morning was unremarkable. Grey, light drizzle and hot, 10°. Well, comparatively hot for the time of day. Not that the temperature was going much higher, but it meant we could dispense with gloves and beanies. Breakfast today was at the Refectory at Southwark Cathedral. They serve the baked goods of Le Comptoir, one of the purveyors from the Borough Market next door. The bonus was it is a much more salubrious setting. Indoors, out of the wind.

Bridget Jones' house.

Sorry, meant to include this photo in the last post. Anyway, the door to Bridget Jones' house from the famed movie. Ah, no. I haven't seen it, but apparently everyone else has.

The Refectory

We weren't the first patrons of the day but the café chairs were still turned up against the tables. No problem. Order placed, coffee made we sat and enjoyed the triple shot long blacks. Until some random worker turned up. She waltzed in, placed a tray in the rack and, without removing her backpack or putting her bag down, proceeded to set the chairs right. What does that mean exactly? She righted every chair in the café by dragging the legs across the stone floor. It created quite a racket, to the extent where we had to stop talking to each other while her 'work' was in progress. Not sure what her job description was but after creating enough ruckus to raise the dead in the crypts below the Cathedral, she greeted a couple of other workers and then turned, headed outside and back onto the street, still in firm possession of the backpack and bag, never to be seen (or thankfully heard) again by us.

Just breaking up the text. I love the Shard.

The drizzle had increased slightly as we left so we detoured through the market. Out the other side it had lightened again and we walked the short distance back to the hotel to finish packing. There was some reorganisation to be done to accommodate Jayne's new snow boots and the other items we had purchased at Mountain Warehouse. Easily done. Bags packed.

The journey to Tilbury docks had seemed a little problematic because it involved some level of walking, bag dragging, and train changing and the weather was not being cooperative. However, as we were deciding how best to get to the docks, Uber sent me a 30% discount voucher. Too easy. Uber it is.

Uber

Ah Uber. So the original quote for the trip from the hotel to the passenger terminal in Tilbury was £68.25. The discount and the weather forecast of rain made the 30% discount an attractive proposition. It looked even more attractive on the day as the rain increased. The thought of lugging bags through the streets of London and the industrial dockside of Tilbury was not to be contemplated.

The car tuned up on time, we loaded the bags and drove from the shelter of the hotel driveway into the London traffic and rain. The driver ignoring the first couple of red lights indicated this would be an interesting journey. Although to be fair, dear reader, I'm not much of a passenger and much prefer to be behind the wheel.

The trip was supposed to take just over an hour and while admiring the black fungal spores all over the roof of the car I wondered how long I could hold my breath. However, it was the drive on the motorway that had me most on edge. Conditions had deteriorated significantly and there was no sign of slowing down to suit the intermittent torrential rain. I could see our driver continually glancing down at his lap. Curious behaviour I did not wish to speculate about. 

Jayne later cleared up what he was doing and I was glad I was ignorant at the time. He was watching a movie on his smartphone.

We reached the Tilbury dock area after an hour or so, whereupon he turned, against the obvious road sign directing us to the passenger terminal, into the industrial area. A brief conversation with a worker saw us turn around and head back to the main road.

With the Viking Venus in sight we entered a roundabout to see a huge blue sign stating No Entry Police access Only. Below in smaller print it permitted entry on legitimate grounds. Boarding a cruise ship moored at the dock seemed legitimate.

Inside the car park the signs were all for the other ship. We unpacked the car and bid Bilal farewell and headed for the shelter of the terminal. Viking staff were as rare as hen's teeth because they were all sheltering out of the rain. Sensible, but not helpful.

We were redirected to the Viking terminal after we dropped our bags, passed through security, collected our boarding passes and excursion tickets and went in search of our cabin. At some point in this search, my invoice from Uber arrived. It was not the £68.25 as promised but an eye watering £98.68.

The reasons provided were all spurious. The journey was longer than expected. We added more stops. We changed our destination. I complained. The end result? They refunded the difference between the charges plus £5 for the mouldy state of the car. No mention of watching a movie while driving.

Of course the refund was in Uber credits. Bastards. Still, I suppose it's a win.

The Viking Venus

The ship can accommodate 900 passengers. Somewhat larger than what we have experienced previously. It is a young ship having been commissioned in 2021 so everything looks and feels new. Finding our cabin proved a challenge so the offer of an orientation walk through was eagerly accepted. Judging by the number of other people who signed up, we weren't the only ones struggling to find things.

The deluxe verandah stateroom, I call it a cabin, is quite spacious. A king size bed, 42 inch TV, desk, 2 lounge chairs, coffee table, en suite and of course a balcony with table and chairs. I'm not sure how much use that will get once we get to Norway.

From the inside looking out.

We set sail at 5:45pm while we were sipping on a most delightful Tuscan Vermentino watching the rain continue to fall on the docks. There are four restaurants on board, the World Café, which happens to be on our level, is the casual dining venue. Jeans are permitted! How avante garde. They have a special menu of the day and regular pizza, sushi and grill options. We dined here. The sushi was good and the Vermentino followed us from the bar.

From the outside looking in. Realistic colours.

The staff are, naturally, delightfully friendly and aim to meet your every need. In some cases the needs are anticipated. I know that is how it is meant to be on a cruise such as this, but full marks to them. Harold, our steward, is from Jakarta and is away from his family for six months at a time.

Unpacking was interesting, especially since now was the time for releasing the vacuum bags so the clothes could be restored to their full size. Here's a before and after shot with my gloves there for size perspective. Quite amazing really.

After packing

Before packing

Amsterdam

We discussed the Amsterdam options with one of the customer service team. Our intention was to visit the Rijksmuseum but not with the Venus group. They were doing a canal cruise prior to the museum and we thought, having done the canals last time, we would use the extra time in the museum.

The rain returned. Amsterdam industrial area.

When we discovered we had to be back on board the ship by 1pm we decided to stay on board. When travel time was excluded we would have had 3 hours at the museum. Not enough for us. Besides domesticity and washing called.

The scene from our balcony. At least there is sunshine.

Those that ventured ashore had good weather. We experienced the first sunstained moments of sunshine since leaving home. Washing on, we adjourned to the lounge where we chatted with a couple of American/Kiwis. Academics from the University of Otago who have been in NZ for 20 years.

Today's title was too easy really. Wintertime in Amsterdam is an absolute classic from one of my favourite albums Richard Clapton's 1977 Goodbye Tiger. Technically today is the first day of spring, but let's not be picky.

The North Sea

Currently we are still in port at Amsterdam awaiting spare parts - whatever that means. We are also awaiting champagne which, disappointingly, has yet to be loaded. When we sail tonight we have two days at sea, which I'm certain will be interesting.

Until next time.

Wintertime in Amsterdam (Amsterdam)

It most certainly is not wintertime in Amsterdam dear reader, but I love Richard Clapton and it does have Amsterdam in the title and we're still here. It's from his classic 1977 album, Goodbye Tiger, one of my absolute favourites. In fact, the weather is anything but wintry. The usual jokes about Holland's one week of summer have disappeared and apparently snow is not common in Amsterdam anymore. The weather forecast today: hot. They nailed it.

Our group was the last to leave the Hilton this morning and there are four us staying at the Marriott. It is closer to the Old Town and the attractions. Aside from that it is a mystery.

It was our first full day under our own recognisance. Exciting. We enjoyed the cruise, but we prefer to move at our own pace and in our own direction, which today meant wandering the streets of Amsterdam. Literally.

The Rijksmuseum from across the canal.

We did have a vague plan. And a map. We wanted to scope out where we were, in relation to the tours we have booked: the Van Gogh Museum and Anne Frank House; and get a sense of the city itself and its layout. There is nothing like getting to know a place by walking its streets. We liked it. A lot. Despite it being the last week of the summer holidays for the locals and many others from the Northern hemisphere.

The atmosphere is relaxed. If you exclude the cyclists, the sweetest looking of whom can burst into a steroid-style rage, should you step in front of them. On a pedestrian crossing. Where you have right of way. Legally. They are crazy, with no regard for traffic laws, lights, crossings, your safety ... whatever. I've learnt to say some choice things in Dutch, so I can respond in kind.

The 650m long market

First stop was to check out the meeting place for the Van Gogh tour and from there, we navigated to one of the plethora of flea markets, dotted around Amsterdam. Actually, that's a bit harsh. Albert Cuypmarkt also does produce; vegetables, fruit, fish, cheeses and some meat. We purchased a stroopwaffle because that's a thing to do. Ours had the added enjoyment of a layer of nutella (not a fan). The whole experience was underwhelming, but, tick that box. We also purchased a couple of t-shirts.

Picturesque? Not so much.

The most visited park in Amsterdam is Sarphatipark. Who are we to argue? We went there next but we are still not sure why it is so popular. There was a really cool statue, but it was fenced off and the grass in the enclosed section looked very welcoming - the locals looked at its green lushness with wistful faces.

Off limits.

We then set off to explore a few shopping, café and bar areas, looking for a place in the shade where we could enjoy some food and alcohol. There were many, many options. After a reconnoître of the area known as Leidseplein, across the canal from our hotel, we stopped for the regulation beer with people watching, despite the fact that the spruiker identified us as American, then Canadian, then English and finally Kiwi before I dropped into a nasal, "Strewth mate". He was lucky I was hot, tired and thirsty otherwise there would have been no sale. After a refreshing pint of Heineken, we headed off up the main street towards the centre of Amsterdam, also known as Old Town.

A random find in a side street

By now, the whole of Amsterdam, and quite a few tourists, had converged on this area and we wove our way through the crowds, the killer bikes and the trams to reach an inner canal that is lined with a vast array of flower markets. Not the florist kind - bags and bags of seeds and bulbs, with some cacti and all kinds of souvenirs of tulips and other flowers.

Not quite what I was expecting.

We decided that it was time to seriously think about a late lunch/early dinner but, rather than try to navigate the crowds along the main street, we took a parallel backstreet and the cut back into the throng, further away from Old Town.

At one point, I thought we were in Italy. I've seen bigger streets in Italy with less Italian restaurants. Confronted by such choice, we did the obvious and selected an Italian restaurant. Part of the charm of a city like Amsterdam is people watching and Jayne scored gold on this round. Behind me, a gentleman arrived, sat and ordered his pizza. The crusts were authentic excellence, but not to his liking and he assiduously cut around the base, removing the crust and then ate the centre of his pizza, using the same knife and fork. His crust still ringed the plate as he departed. Ironically, he actually had curly hair...

The performance enhanced our enjoyment of dinner and some bruschetta, calamari, a pizza and a bottle of Montepulciano later, we walked home to the air conditioning of our hotel.

Our first day concluded with some serious rehydration, water and tea only, blogging and processing photos.

Until tomorrow.

Deep Water (Jonah's Palm Beach)

November 22, 1980

Well hello my dedicated reader. Who would have thought that I'd be blogging again in the year of Covid? I mean after Mollymook, what could possibly be of interest? Today we find ourselves on the insular peninsula, Whale Beach to be precise. Jonah's Boutique Hotel and Restaurant to be exact. We have been trying to get here for years but found it difficult to co-ordinate work commitments. My retirement and Covid seem to have solved any concerns. Jonah's, like many establishments had been closed and when opening was imminent, I checked their website daily and booked as soon as they were up and running.

Jonah's is our first stop and then we head to Marramarra Lodge on Fisherman's Point. Why, you ask dear reader? Well, this was a big year for special numbered events. Jayne's birthday and also our wedding anniversary; 40 years. I know! We are supposed to be in an overwater bure in Tahiti. Covid. Enough said. Tahiti will still be there when the world re-opens for business and we will get there, just not for this anniversary.

The "going away" outfit

40 years. A ruby anniversary. Being the romantic, I bought Jayne a pair of ruby and diamond earrings. I bought them even though I was pretty certain she wouldn't like them. They are beautiful and exquisitely crafted, but they are just not the style she would normally wear and real rubies aren't really red. And she loves red. So despite my head telling me no, my heart won and I bought them anyway. Well, 40 years of tolerating me, that is some achievement and it deserves recognition. On Wednesday, we're heading to the jewellery store to exchange them. 

First things first, let's deal with today's title. Richard Clapton, that icon of Australian rock, from the Goodbye Tiger album (1977, cheers Vince). There is a line, "sitting out on the Palm Beach road, I'm so drunk and the car won't go, my crazy eyes keep looking out to sea. Sunday drivers are cruising round, wish they'd all go back to town. What do they expect to find? Sure as hell ain't peace of mind." Let me explain, when I was a child, one of my mother's more bizarre methods of torture was the family drive - generally on a Sunday, attendance compulsory. We would be loaded into the back of the ute (we didn't have a passenger vehicle until early 70s) and then driven from the outer 'burbs to places like Palm Beach. Why? Damn fine question? So we could look at houses we would never be able to afford? To be envious of a lifestyle we would never experience? To make us more disenchanted with our humdrum existence? To establish our place in the pecking order? Who knows? But Clapton nailed it, sure as hell wasn't for peace of mind. And it was a bloody long drive from Campbelltown.

From the balcony

Jonah's is everything I thought it would be. The welcome was warm, the glass of champagne on the balcony was much appreciated after the drive. Particularly given Jayne's fetish for duelling navigation systems. She uses one on her phone and directs me, while the in-car system wants to take me down a alternate path. Very confusing and as frustrating as last night's rugby test match. However, we made it. The Bolly was lovely, the view superb and the greeting and walk through our ocean view was excellent. Then it was time to relax with more Bolly and while away the hours until dinner. The biggest decision for the afternoon? Should we breakfast in our room or in the dining room? Life is tough.

The room is beautifully appointed, king sized bed, spa bath, rain shower, wifi and has a balcony that faces due east. The sound of the waves from the beach below are very relaxing. I can't believe it has taken us so long to get here, but I think we will be returning. Instant wind down.

Dinner was superb. From the G&T with fresh cucumber and verbena leaf while we perused the menu to the dessert with accompanying sticky, and all points in between. The food was excellent: grilled prawns, pasta with spanner crab, john dory, chocolate mousse and spiced cake. It was three courses, we had the same main. Sorry, there are no photos, we dined without mobile phones. The wine? The cellar extends to 1100 different wines and, while there were some familiar Australian names, we opted to go with Guillaume, the sommelier's advice and had an aged pinot gris from Alsace. A perfect match for our food.

It was very pleasant sitting on the balcony after dinner listening to the surf on the beach below. A pity the weather wasn't being co-operative. It was cloudy and there were thunderstorms to our north and rain to the south. The storms were just far enough away to preclude us from having a light show over the ocean. 

Breakfast, after a restful night's sleep, was enjoyed in the dining room. The view is stunning - unimpeded by expansive, crystal clear wall to ceiling glass, looking out over Whale Beach. Not so good for the lorikeet that didn't see the glass and smacked straight into it while we were breakfasting. Then coffee, juice, fruit, croissant, granola and a selection of cooked food. Lunch will not be required.

Today we have a few hours to kill before we head to Mooney Mooney and then by boat to Marramarra Lodge.

until next time

Deep water (Riomaggiore to Venice)

Riomaggiore

The time came for us to leave the Italian Riviera and we were both OK with that. The party that never ends, to borrow a phrase from Richard Clapton's lead into the live version of Deep Water, continued last night until 3am. My fervent hope is that those inconsiderate revellers had accommodation very close to the early morning garbage trucks or, at the very least, the clunking of our bags on the cobble stoned paths woke them as we left for our train at 6:45am.

Monterosso

There is no doubt that Cinque Terre has a natural beauty and a slightly fraying charm about it. The buildings are looking, like Jayne and I at the moment, a little tired and could all do with a fresh coat of paint. After visiting four of the five villages it appeared that there was a sameness about each of them in terms of what they had to offer. While that was OK, there was nothing to really keep us there for more than the three days I had allocated.

Vernazza

No doubt I would have a different perspective if I were living over here. It is a place where you can go and sit and relax and do nothing, but not somewhere you can get sleep. The nights were very hot and if the air was still, it became more problematic because you really needed the windows open and then of course there were those dicks who sat and drank at the harbour all night and didn’t mind everyone knowing they were having a good time. I watched a few of them staggering up the hill after 2:30 this morning, shouting their goodbyes to those who continued partying, oblivious to those trying to sleep in the buildings that towered above them.

We managed to get a booking at the restaurant recommended by our hosts on our last night. It was a fitting way to end our time here and the food was excellent. We shared a plate of octopus, followed by seafood ravioli and then a mixed grill, also seafood. Well dear reader, it was a seafood restaurant.

The trip to Venice requires a couple of train changes. Our initial train was 7 minutes late arriving at Riomaggiore and 5 minutes late getting to Sestri Levante. That gave us 10 minutes to catch the connecting train to Milan. As it turned out, we needn’t have panicked - the Milan train arrived on the same platform as we did from Riomaggiore and it was also running 5 minutes late. We changed from a regional to an intercity train and from 2^nd class to 1^st for the almost 3 hour journey to Milan.

We were slightly late arriving in Milan (14 minutes) but I had allowed 45 minutes between trains so there were no concerns. We are in Business Class for the last leg of the journey to Venice. The Frecciarossa would have us there about 2:30pm. It's a long day of travel, but it is easier and far less stressful than driving. So far, all my plans have gone like clockwork. This is the fourth country in which I have enjoyed high speed train travel and I can't believe the politicians are still procrastinating about it in Australia. After all, we have the wide open spaces and vast distances. It just makes sense, so that's why you'll probably never see it - at least in my lifetime.

As mentioned, the final train was about 15 minutes late getting into Venice. We exited the station and turned left as instructed and went to the water taxi rank. Where we waited for about 10 minutes for our pre-booked taxi to arrive. It's a very busy area and Jayne learned today just how lightly we actually travel. Two Indian families turned up with a porter from the railway and a trolley to hold their bags. The first family consisted of husband and wife and they had 4 large bags between them. I glanced down at our one medium sized bag and my carry on. The next couple also had a pre-teen child and they had 6 bags! Amazing.

Into our taxi and out onto the Grande Canal. The water taxi was recommended by our hosts and while there are significantly cheaper options, it is a great way to meet the fabled Venice. The trip to our accommodation in San Marco occupied about 20 minutes and we saw all manner of interesting things that hopefully we will re-discover as we walk around and get lost in this unique city.

From the dining room window

Anna met us at the pier and walked us through to our accommodation. Another top floor unit - I just can't help myself, but we have a terrace which will provide an uninterrupted view of the fireworks on Saturday night. Don't be afraid to get lost, we were warned. It happened on our first outing, but that's OK; it just means we discovered some really interesting shops. Masks and glassware abound.

Gondolas, gondolas and ...

We found the supermarket and a wine shop. The wine shop sells wine on tap as well as the bottled stuff. You just turn up with your empty bottles: glass or plastic, it didn't appear to matter, and then you choose your wine and get a refill (I hope to get pictures). Can you imagine that in Australia? The nanny police would want to close it because it wasn't hygienic enough, or the discounted prices encourage drinking, or just because it is a bloody good idea. We didn't have any empties, having just arrived, so we purchased the more standard fare.

Venice from our terrace

Dinner was at Da Jonny, recommended by Anna. Excellent. The food was superb, so much so that we have booked for later in the week as well. Once again we shared a couple of smaller plates, scallops and ravioli before having separate mains. Jayne had fish and I had duck breast - they must have been huge birds, I could barely eat it.

Then it was back home for a glass of red on the terrace in the breeze. I think we are going to struggle adjusting to Australia's temperatures when we return. I paved the way to the terrace, or altana, as I believe it is called in Venice. The sun was setting, the seagulls were wheeling in to settle for the night. Jayne turns up and says, "I just looked out the window at the road and thought, gee, the road is wet. It must have been raining". OK, a canal can't get much wetter and it is a road (of sorts) for boats. You've gotta love her. We laughed about that until the mosquitoes tried to carry us away.

Good night dear reader.