Travels With The Burnhams

Mellow Matanzas, Beach time in Varadero

2012-02-19T17:19:00.000-08:00

Varadero, Cuba

Sunday 19 February 2012

We are getting lazy at the end of our trip. Yes, the tourist buses, Viazul and Transtur, are comfortable but a taxi is more convenient. You don’t have to take a taxi to and from the bus station, which is almost always beyond walking distance and you can specify the time you leave. It is often only a few dollars more to take a taxi and that is what we have been doing the last few times. The taxi driver who offered his services to take us to our Casa Particular in Ciego de Avila also offered to drive us to Santa Clara for $15 CUC each. We accepted and had a comfortable ride straight to our chosen Casa. We haven’t taken the bus since. Matanzas isn’t on the direct Viazul bus line. The choice was taking a bus to Varadero and making a connection on another bus to Matanzas. We choice the taxi again and cut 1-2 hours off the trip.

Matanzas bridge

Matanzas is a relatively small town with fewer sights on the ‘must see’ list. The city curves around Matanzas Bay and is split by two rivers. Matanzas is called ‘The city of Bridges’ because of the 21 bridges over the rivers. There are a few lovely Colonial buildings around the central Parque Libertad. It didn’t take long for us to find them all, walking from our very good Casa Particular in the block next to the park. Our room in Hostal Alma on the second floor of an old Colonial house had comfortable patio furniture in which to rest after our walks and was thankfully sheltered from the traffic noise that echoed between the buildings on either side of the narrow street. We ate breakfast at Casa Alma and our dinners next door at Hostal Azul, run by the son and family of Hostal Alma. We totally agree with the recommendation given by Lonely Planet for the dinners prepared by a genial woman trained as a chef in Varadero. In fact, our dinners prepared at the various Casa Particulars we chose in Cuba were better than the meals we ate at any of the resorts.

After missing out on snorkelling trips in both Playa Santa Lucia and Villa Don Lino, we tried again. We booked a taxi to take us to Playa Coral, on the coast half way between Matanzas and Varadero. This is the best spot for snorkelling from Varadero as well and wave after wave of tour bus arrived bringing tourists for a snorkel excursion. We were rather concerned at the number of people in the water, but we didn’t need to be. We hired a guide to lead the two of us through the corals that begin right at the shoreline and avoided the areas where the large groups were swimming behind their leader in a long curved line. The corals were grey and uninteresting but the water was clear and the fish were there in profusion. The guide made sure we saw lots of fish by feeding them small bits of banana from a plastic water bottle. The fish loved it and so did we. Once the tour groups had finished their ½ hour in the water, they were on their way again and we had the beach almost to ourselves. We had our own masks and snorkels and had the use of flippers for the duration of our stay. All the groups come in the morning before the afternoon winds pick up making the waves over the shallow corals a bit dangerous. We had our second swim on our own before it got too windy and discovered more of the area.

One of the hazards of moving from place to place is leaving belongings behind. We did that twice on this trip and both times we were lucky. I didn’t discover that my favourite travel night gown had been left in the room we vacated when we changed rooms at the Playa Santa Lucia Resort. Inquiries the next morning led to the chamber maid who had found it and locked it in safekeeping waiting for the owner to retrieve it. She was as happy to return it to me as I was to get it back.

The second time was the discovery that our masks and snorkels had been left hanging on an arm of our Palapa sunshade at Playa Coral. We were planning to take the bus from Matanzas to Varadero the next morning but it was time again for a taxi ride. We stopped in to Playa Coral on the way and were met by the beach staff who all knew exactly why we were back so soon. Sure enough they had discovered our masks and snorkels and locked them up for the night. Again, our belongings were returned to us in perfect condition. These incidentsjust confirmed our belief in the honesty of the Cuban people.

Pina Coladas on the beach

Varadero does have the best beach we visited in Cuba. The white sand beach stretches for about 20 km along a thin island connected by a causeway to the mainland on the north coast east of Havana. The waters off Varadero Beach are clear and warm and perfect for swimming. Included in our three day package was a ticket for the Varadero Beach Tour bus which we made use of on Saturday afternoon. We stayed on for the whole two hour circuit which takes you past all the resorts on the peninsula. There are more than 50 resorts from simple ones like ours to super deluxe ones. It is a big development.

We had chosen Sun Beach Hotel in Varadero, a moderate sized resort in Varadero town, mostly because of the price. We had considered two other more expensive options but neither had rooms available for our last weekend in Cuba. The resort suited our purpose. It had a nice, small pool area, which we didn’t use, and a good section of beach across the street from the resort. Our room was fine and most of the food edible, although hardly gourmet. We ate one night in the spearate dining room where you reserve and choose from their Italian menu. The service was good and it was nice to be served but it wasn't much better than the regular buffet selections. All of the three resorts we visited seem to have the same dining room buffet setup and the same menus. At least we have learned which foods to choose and which to avoid, to go easy on the drinks, not to load too much food on our plate and to forgo second helpings. That is the only way we have a hope of returning home without gaining lots of unneeded weight. Lonely Planet said that 25% of the tourists in Cuba in 2009 were from Canada. The percentage is much higher at the resorts. We have met people from all over Canada and have enjoyed talking to them.

Would we come to Cuba again? Yes we would. We preferred the simple Casa Particular accommodation and food over the resorts, but the resorts give the best access to the beaches. For us, the combination of meeting the people, enjoying the culture, hiking in the hills and swimming in the oceans was possible only by making our own way around the island. We are glad we chose the independent route.

On the road to Ciego de Avila

2012-02-14T13:13:00.000-08:00

Ciego De Avila, Cuba

Sunday 14 February 2012

Long bus trips can be an opportunity to meet fellow travellers, trade travel stories and get recommendations for towns and Casa Particulars. The 6 hour bus ride from Holguin to Ciego de Avila passed a lot more pleasantly and quickly as we got to know an American man from Colorado and a Canadian woman who has lived in Australia for the past 25 years. Both were doing bicycle trips and of course we are always interested in their experiences bicycling on Cuban roads. The woman was travelling to Santa Clara to join a two week tour run by a Canadian company from Prince Edward Island.

The American was ending a month of solo travelling by bicycle, with occasional bus trips to bridge the longer gaps. When he admitted that he had bicycled the infamous La Farola (the lighthouse)road, 55 km of steep hills from the Atlantic coast in the south to Baracoa, we knew he was a hard core bicyclist. He said the hardest part was that the uphill is in two stages and the 10 km of relative flatness in the middle made him forget there was still a steep pitch to come. He said he took day trips out of Baracoa with pitches so steep he had to sit far back on the bike to avoid going over the handlebars. As you all know, I like downhills, not climbs, and downhills where braking is required are very disappointing. We even discussed the American

Medical coverage (he doesn’t like the power wielded by Insurance companies) and politics. He thinks Romney will win the Republican nomination. He hopes the fact that many of the far right wing of the Republican Party think Romney is a bit too liberal will give Obama an advantage.

As often happens, the Casa Particular we phoned and reserved was full but we were sent to a friend, who had a nice private apartment opening onto a patio for us. It suited us well for our short one night stay. Saturday night is music and dancing night on the Pedestrian shopping street in Ciego. We walked down to see equipment being set up for later in the evening but decided going to bed early was the better option. We saved more wanderings for the next morning.

The tourist train

Sunday was family day, first shopping on the pedestrian streets and later, visiting the City Park, built at one end of an artificial lake. There were rides for the children, pedal boats to take on the lake and a train to take a scenic tour around the park and into the downtown area. The train was a highlight. Every seat was occupied by families and the line-ups were long to get on at the stops about town.

Cuba has an unusual two tier money system. Government and non-tourist industry workers are paid in Moneda National Pesos (MN). In 1993, Cuba legalized the American Dollar, and later introduced the Convertible Peso (CUC) to take the place of the now banned American Dollar. Roughly equivalent to $1 US or $1 CAD, $1 CUC is equal to 25 MN. Restaurants and Hotels frequented by tourists price everything in CUC. Smaller, less touristy towns deal in MN and hardly ever use the CUC. If you want to buy a bun in a bakery or fruit from a street stand, you have to pay in MN. A meal in an MN restaurant is far less expensive than a tourist restaurant. Workers in tourist establishments are happy to get CUCs for tips and salary. It allows them to use the greater buying power of the CUC and shop in stores with far greater selection than MN stores.

Sometimes an establishment will give you the equivalent price in CUC and sometimes they may not want your business. It gets somewhat confusing. I had a pedicure from a lady in her private home. She quoted me about 10 MN. I didn’t have any MN so I offered $1 CUC. We both got a good deal. Our tourist bus stopped for a short break in a small town, right beside a bakery. Ray almost didn’t get the cookies he had chosen as the clerk didn’t want CUC. She finally relented and accepted his tourist money. The solution would have been to exchange $10 CUC into MN at the bank. We didn’t do that, but after a few transactions, we now have a little change to spend in MN stores.

Last Looks: Baracoa, Santiago, Don Lino

2012-02-13T07:34:00.000-08:00

Villa Don Lino, near Guadalavaca, Cuba

Friday 10 February 2012

Did I say we were going to visit the Fort in Baracoa? Well, it didn’t look that interesting so we skipped it and hired a bici-taxi to drive us to the baseball stadium from which we could walk to Playa Blanca. For $4 CUC return our driver suggested he would wait for us to return 2 ½ hours later. We thought that was too long and said we would be back in 1 1/2 hours. I thought that would give us plenty of time but we didn’t realize how far the beach was or how interesting the walk would be. We had barely enough time to get to the beach, take a few photos and hurry back.

We walked about 1 km on the black sand before taking a path to a rickety wooden bridge over the Rio Miel (Honey River) where fishermen were casting nets and dangling lines to catch their supper. At the end of a small village was the only sign pointing to Playa Blanca and a guardhouse where we paid $4 CUC to enter a protected park area. A rutted road led past limestone caves in the low hills, the site of several archaeological digs. From the end of the road a narrow path through the woods led us finally to the beach, a small crescent of yellow sand with a small entrance into the sea guarded by jagged volcanic rocks. Waves were pounding the shore, making even the thought of swimming a life threatening experience. This was a picnic and sun bathing beach, not a place to swim. We followed the village path all the way back to the baseball field instead of walking the beach to find our driver happily waiting for us. For him, earning $4 CUC was a very profitable day and for us, it was worth the price and the pleasant walk.

Bara Rhumba Group

We had been told that the music groups usually took Monday night off. Happily, this turned out to be false. A big banner in front of the town Cultural Center advertised a performance at 8:30 PM by the Bara-Rhumba Folklórica group. We were there in plenty of time to get seats in the front row. We needn’t have bothered being there early. We were the only people in the audience. The group of drummers, percussionists and girl singer did two numbers to their small (us) but appreciative audience and took a break to drum up more customers. About 20 minutes later several more people had come and the performance really started. We were treated to an African inspired dance and song performance by two women and three men, accompanied by the beat of the drums and maracas. The men and women twirled around each other in various dance routines and the men breathed fire, rolled on broken glass and wielded a machete in a faux eye gouging. Shades of Haitian Voo-doo and African rhythms abounded.

There were more people out and about than Sunday night. Recorded music could be heard in one club and a traditional Cuban band play in the Casa de la Trova. It was a great way to say good-bye to a small, but lively town.

We arrived in Santiago de Cuba on the afternoon bus to find that our Casa Particular was full. Jesus assured us that there was another room for us nearby. He arranged for us to stay with the mother of his wife, Marisol, who lived right next door. We were not sure at first that the room shown us was suitable. Grandmother Ursula was making up the bed in what appeared to be the only bedroom in the apartment, right between the living room and kitchen. Not all the Casa Particulars are in large, old Colonial style houses. Some are adaptations of people’s simple homes, as this one was. It was clean and the bed was comfortable. We had dinner prepared by Marisol in her home next door and enjoyed breakfast served by Lily in her kitchen. We never see where Ursula and her daughter Lily slept but suspected there was another bedroom on the roof terrace, reached by stairs from the kitchen.

Santiago has a reputation for a lively musical scene that was just begging to be explored. Ray was still recovering from stomach problems during our previous stay so we had not gone to sample the fun. We were both feeling well this time so out we went to the center of town after dinner. We found a small group making a live performance DVD in the tiny in Libreria la Escalera. Several guitarists, drummers and percussionists were squeezed into the niche at the foot of the rear staircase for which this book store cum souvenir cum music shop is named. They managed to produce some very good music. When they took an extended break, we wandered around the corner to listen to a group playing in the Casa de Son. An extremely small audience, which almost doubled when we arrived, enjoyed their music. A young man in the audience sketched Ray’s portrait while we watched the show. It was quite flattering but not good enough for us to bring it home as a souvenir. There were more clubs about to start their evening entertainment but we had an early rise ahead of us to get the bus to Holguin.

The advantage of an elastic itinerary is that we can change our minds as we go. We did just that. After talking to a Scottish woman who had visited Gibara, on the coast northwest of Holguin, we decided to change our plans. Gibara sounded interesting but too much like Baracoa. The beaches had proved to be difficult to access and were too windy and rocky to chance swimming, just like our experience in Baracoa. We changed our plans, had Jesus cancel our reservation in Gibara and phone his Casa Particular friend in Guadalavaca, the original resort area on a long stretch of beach 54 km northeast of Holguin. Jesus told us his friend’s Casa was across the street from the Police station and 500 M from the beach. We were willing to give it a try.

The only practical way of getting to Guadalavaca, if you are not on a package tour, is to hire a taxi to drive you there. Taxi drivers are always at the bus stop offering their services to tourists wanting to go to the beach and we found a helpful English speaking man, Rafael, to drive us in his friend’s taxi. An hour later we were in Guadalavaca, looking at a forlorn apartment complex in the middle of nowhere, where Jesus’s friend lived. We made an instant decision to try a Casa recommended by Rafael. It was infinitely better but was full. Rafael said he knew of another Casa but it was back in that desolate apartment complex. The quality of Casas was getting worse, not better and it was time for an upgrade.

The big resorts in Guadalavaca were either way too expensive for our budget or not recommended. A “Top Choice” in Lonely Planet was Villa Don Lino, a small complex of 36 cabañas on its own beach west of the big resorts. Rafael phoned for us and was told there was a room available. Off we went, back about 15 km on the road to Holguin, and then another 15 km on a spur road through the village of Rafael Freyre and out to the coast.

The resort is in the midst of expansion, building more units, and has been converted to all-inclusive. The price was better than we had hoped so here we are for the next few days. There is a pool and most of the other amenities of larger resorts but on a smaller, quieter scale. The beach is still suffering from Hurricane Ike in 2008 but Ray and I managed a good swim this morning. We tried out our snorkels and masks and managed to see a few fish and some new growth on small corals near shore. The water was clear and pleasant swimming anyway. It is a good place to just relax and enjoy the sea and sun.

About 1 ½ km away from Don Lino is another beach, Playa Blanca. We took two of the bikes provided at Don Lino and pedalled over to discover an almost deserted white sand beach just waiting for us. The swimming was excellent, just a sandy bottom and no big breakers to contend with. We had our snorkels with us but there were no fish or corals to interest us. It made for a good morning; swimming, reading and watching some locals fish.

Columbus Monument

On our way back to Don Lino we detoured to see a monument commemorating the first landing in Cuba of Christopher Columbus on 28 October 1492. Baracoa also claimed that Columbus landed on their shore as well. They even have a wooden cross that has been carbon dated to the late 1400s. It was originally thought the cross was brought by Columbus from Spain but the wood is native to Cuba, so it must have been made by the Spaniards in Cuba. Columbus was a busy mariner is all the landings attributed to him are true.

Baracoa, Wild and Wonderful

2012-02-06T11:15:00.000-08:00

Baracoa, Cuba

Saturday 4 February 2012

Coast alonf the Malecon

Founded in 1511, Baracoa, at the SE tip of Cuba, is the oldest town in Cuba. Isolated on a wild rocky coast with volcanic mountains as a backdrop, it was semi-abandoned in the mid-16th C. The only new inhabitants until the early 19th C, when French planters escaping rebellions in Haiti arrived, were revolutionaries sent as prisoners to Baracoa after each insurrection. Until the 1960s the only access was by sea. In 1964 a 70 km road, called, La Farola, was built by Castro over the steep mountains as a reward for support during the revolution.

We arrived in a tourist bus on Friday from Santiago. We have been delayed on bus rides with flat tires and engine trouble but we have never been delayed before because of an altercation with a goat. It is common to see small herds of goats or cows wander across the road with now herdsman in sight. Drivers are very careful to let them pass unharmed because there is no such thing as a hit and run of an animal in Cuba. The driver could be liable for a heavy fine or even jail. We were on a straight stretch of road about 40 minutes out of Baracoa when a Nanny goat and two kids beetled across the road in front of us. The driver had no chance to avoid them. The Nanny hit the front bumper on the driver’s side. We were sure it was killed but it got up and ran to the woods on the side of the road with the two kids in tow. The driver stopped the bus and got out to discover the only damage was a cracked plastic light cover. He asked nearby locals who owned the goats then turned around and returned to the small town we had just left about 10 minutes before. The driver reported the accident to the police and then had us wait in town while he ferried three officers back to the scene of the accident. Left in town, we passengers fortified ourselves with ice cream cones and cookies from the local bakery. Finally the driver returned and we continued on to Baracoa, arriving about one hour later than expected. The moral is watch out for those unpredictable animals on the road.

At first glance Baracoa has more than the usual complement of unpainted or derelict buildings, but renovations are going on everywhere. The church is undergoing a major overhaul and existing homes are being painted, repaired and expanding. The competition for tourists has all the Casa Particulares are adding terraces and extra rooms. Several are including Paladars, private dining rooms, to their homes. A farmer’s market has been added in a field near the center of town. It is a bustling, growing town.

A long Malecón with a wide promenade borders the sea for almost the whole length of the town. There is no beach, just large sharply pointed volcanic rocks, making swimming dangerous along this stretch. It was very windy the first few days after we arrived so waves crashed against the rocks and cascaded over the sea wall onto sidewalk. Boys were out in force flying their kites. Santiago is not the only town that has caught the kite bug. Hurricane Ike in 2008 caused extensive damage to Baracoa, especially to the houses bordering the Malecón, but most have been rebuilt by the time we visited.

We thought the road to La Belen, out of Camagüey was the worst road in Cuba. We were wrong. The along the coast to Alejandro de Humboldt National Park, 40 Km NW of Baracoa was worse. It took 1 ½ hrs for 8 tourists travelling in a van and 4 more of us in a taxi to slalom around the deep potholes in the road. We were on a day excursion to visit this Unesco status park. Yes, another Unesco site to tick off on our list. Humboldt is 594 sq km of pristine forest and 2641 hectares of lagoon and mangroves with the most diverse plant habitat in entire Caribbean. The vegetation is dense and lush and the high, misty mountains are never dry. It was worth the bumpy ride. The four of us in the taxi parked at the start of a trail while the minivan proceeded ahead. The road was flooded ahead and too difficult for the car to negotiate. We were told to wait for the van to return and bring the rest of us to our actual starting point, but a tractor pulling a cart offered us a lift instead. Little did we know that the water flooding the road we crossed with the tractor was just the last of several times we would have to cross that same stream.

We were headed for the Balcón de Ibería, with spectacular views of the hills around us. Carlo our guide led us on a muddy path up a hill and over a narrow ridge. We even had a few showers during the day to make sure the path remained muddy. Thankfully tropical showers never last very long and we had our rain jackets with us. I just used my rain jacket to cover my camera as the rain wasn’t heavy enough to soak me. Along the route Carlo identified several of the trees and flowers and pointed out Trogons, hummingbirds, Caribbean Parrots, and turkey vultures for us, just some of the extensive bird population in the reserve. Carlo made sure we were walking with care, especially on the sections covered with a red clay mixture of iron and nickel. On the steepest downhill pitch our way was blocked by a German woman who had slipped and badly injured a leg. She was walking with another woman and a guide, who had to leave them on the trail to go ahead and bring back a horse to carry the injured woman out. It made our entire group more cautious than ever but we all made it down without incident.

Fording the stream

At the bottom of our trail we found there was a stream with no bridge crossing it. In the dry season the river can be crossed on stepping stones but it the stones were now well covered with water. We followed the Kiwi tradition of just wading in with our boots on. It worked and it did wash off most of the accumulated mud from the trail. We forded that stream eight times on the way back. My boots are just now, two days later, dry again. We passed a small waterfall that could only be reached by wading upstream, but there was the possibility of a swim in the deeper pools near the falls. All but two young German boys opted to have a break to eat the lunch snack we had brought with us instead of visiting the falls and swimming. A local man had cucurucho for sale, $0.50 CUC each. Ray and I bought one and shared this local delicacy. It is a sugary treat made of coconut, honey and guava, wrapped in a banana leaf cone. There were also fresh coconuts with the top sliced off so we could drink the milk and scoop out the soft pulp. When the boys had finished their swim we continued on. We were offered a ride in an ox cart the rest of the way but after one rough crossing, we all got out and walked until we reached the worst of the flooding. That section we rode in the minivan back to the taxi.

There was one more stop on the way back to Baracoa. Playa Maguana, a nice yellow sand beach was half way back to town. We all decided there was too much surf for safe swimming and stayed at a little beach bar, happily sipping on fresh mango juice laced with rum, a reward for our hike.

Saturday night is time for all the Baracoans to dress in their finest dancing outfits and join the street party in the center of town. Several streets had been turned into a pedestrian way with vendors selling snacks and drinks and music blaring out at several different intersections. We headed to the tables and chairs set outside the Casa de la Trova where a live band entertained the crowd. We stayed for an hour or so watching the festivities before heading back to our Casa. We returned Sunday night for more music as well. A different band played at Casa de la Trova and the crowds were smaller, but it was still fun.

The best museum in town was the Archaeological Museum La Cueva del Paraiso. The museum is located in several small natural caves at the base of the hills backing the town of Baracoa. We followed the road straight up the hill from our Casa to see the collection of artefacts from pre-Columbian Taino culture. The Taino people lived in this area and were there to welcome Christopher Columbus when he landed in this area in 1492. They no longer exist as those that survived brutal repression and slavery succumbed diseases brought by the explorers. We climbed just barely safe stairs and ladders to see skeletons uncovered in small niches in the caves. A young boy guided us to the upper most lookout with the best view of the town and shore. I am not sure we would have attempted the last ladder to the high platform ourselves without the boy going first. The route up would never have passed safety regulations in North America. We bought some of the chocolate bars made from local cocoa beans the boy was selling and had them for our dessert that night. Delicious.

We ended our exploring of the town with a walk to a black sand beach at the southern end of town. The waves were too high for swimming, promising a dangerous undertow, but the walk on the beach was fun. The town baseball stadium, partially damaged in one of the hurricanes, was right beside the beach. A local team, not yet a national contender, was playing a Sunday game. We watched while errors by the opposing team allowed the batters to score three runs.

There is still a small fort to visit and a walk to nearby Playa Blanca to occupy our last day, for tomorrow, Tuesday, we head back to Santiago and the next day travel to Gibara on the coast north of Holguin.

Santiago Wanderings

2012-02-06T06:51:00.000-08:00

Santiago de Cuba

Thursday 02 February 2012

Casa Bacardi, now a museum

You take the good with the bad in Santiago. The good side includes many historical buildings to visit and friendly, helpful people. We walked our feet off discovering more and more places to visit. The bad includes more pollution from motorcycles and black-smoke-belching ancient buses and trucks, too many derelict buildings next to freshly renovated ones, and too many touts, especially in the main tourist areas, offering their taxi, guide services, selling souvenirs or just looking for a handout. We walked the relatively vehicle free back streets to avoid the worst pollution and politely refused all entreaties for services or money, although our smiles got a little strained at times. Our strolls down the quieter residential streets taught us that behind most of even the shabbier houses lived a family ready with a friendly Hola and coping as best they could in a country where the basic necessities we expect are not always available.

The loosening of regulations regarding private enterprise is making a difference. Even the permission to operate a small produce stand has meant an increase in personal income. At least one house on every block has a booth in their doorway offering slices of pizza or ice cream. You can always pick out the Casa Particulars on a street. They are the house with a fresh coat of paint and repairs to the exterior. The right to own their own homes means that instead of waiting for the government to fix their houses, those who can afford to buy their residence can start repairs themselves, and they are doing just that.

One of our walks took us past large plazas crowded with people merely sitting, chatting with neighbours and enjoying the scene. We walked into several of the galleries showcasing local talent and had a personal tour given by the caretaker of the Catedral de Nuestra Señora de la Asuncíon, which is undergoing a massive five year restoration. We found our way to the Cuartel Moncado, once Military Barracks and the site of a disastrous July 26, 1953 attack by Fidel Castro and his troops attempting to oust the hated Batista. The complex is now a school with a small museum detailing the details of the failed attack and its aftermath.

Food is always on our minds. Lunch is usually a ham sandwich in a small restaurant, as the snack choice is not very large. Dinner is another matter. We usually have at least one dinner at our Casa Particular and the meal is always excellent. We also like to sample the local restaurants and often follow the recommendations of the Lonely Planet. They are usually reliable. We had one very good meal at El Barracón, a restaurant featuring food flavoured by the Afro-culture influence. Another night we arranged to have dinner at another Casa Particular noted for its food. We were not disappointed. Our fish in a tasty tomato and pepper sauce was one of the best we have eaten so far.

Ray at Castillo del Morro

At the entrance to Santiago Harbour stands San Pedro Fort, AKA Castillo de San Pedro de la Roca del Morro, AKA Castillo El Morro. Pirates were continually attacking Santiago when the same architect who built two of the forts at the mouth of Havana harbour was commissioned in 1587 to build another fort to protect Santiago. Money was tight and work didn’t start on the new fort until 17 years after the architect’s death and it took 60 years for the project to finish. By that time the pirate threat had abated and the fortifications never had to withstand serious attacks. Instead, it was used as a notorious military prison from the 1800s until the late 1960s, when restoration of the original building began. Today the large stone structure perched on a 60 M high cliff has Unesco status and houses a museum highlighting its association with the Pirates of the Caribbean and Cuba’s role in the 1898 Spanish-Cuban-American War.

We hired Jesus Jr., from our Casa, to drive us out to the fort, 10 km from the center of Santiago. Did you know that James Hawkins, an English pirate, was marooned on one of the Antilles islands for almost four years after being banished by his captain and was the inspiration for Robinson Crusoe? It was the most interesting fort we have visited so far in Cuba. We spent almost two hours visiting the exhibitions and roaming the many levels of terraces, each with its own view of the seas and the harbour.

On a good note, we found two non-Canadian tourists who needed to extend their visa and were more than happy to buy our stamps from us. They don’t need to line up to get the stamps in the bank and we got our $50 CUC back. All’s well that ends well.

The Kite Runners of Santiago

2012-02-01T07:57:00.000-08:00

Santiago de Cuba

Wednesday 1 February 2012

Gossiping with neighbours

This is just like the Kite Runners. There is a young man on the room of the house across the street from us directing his homemade kite to do battle with another kite. There are similar scenes being played out from the roof tops of houses all around our neighbourhood. We were seated at a table on the roof terrace at our Casa Particular in Santiago and had just started our pre-dinner game of Farkle when I noticed all the activity in the sky. Below us women are gossiping on the street, but the young people are flying kites. Our neighbour tangled with a friends kite and both kites tumbled to the street. The reeled in, retrieved their kites and started the game again. Several more kites looked ready to challenge our neighbour but no one else was successful tonight. We will have to wait for the next inning tomorrow.

We left Camagüey a day later than we had expected. Both of us came down with stomach flu. I woke up early our last day at Playa Santa Lucia with a sore stomach. I ate very little for the rest of the day and managed to survive our ride back to our Casa Particular in Camagüey after lunch. Ray started to feel ill about dinner time so we both skipped the evening meal and stayed in. That didn’t work. Ray was violently ill later that evening. I was getting better the next day but Ray was very tired and still not feeling 100%. It must have been something we ate or drank at Playa Santa Lucia but who knows. It seems lots of Cuban resort guests have had problems this year. At least we didn’t have to endure a plane trip back to Canada being violently ill.

We decided a 7-8 hour ride in a bus was not a good idea and rescheduled for the following day. We spent Sunday taking a few more photos around Camagüey and just reading and resting. Ray was well enough Monday to brave the bus, so off we went. It was a long but relatively comfortable ride, arriving in Santiago de Cuba about 8:30 PM. A taxi driver from our chosen Casa was waiting for us in his ancient red jeep and the soup served us by our Host Jesus and his wife Marisol was just what we needed.

Lonely Planet said Canadians get a Visa for up to three months but we were told in Cancun when we flew to Cuba that we only had 30 days and would have to renew in Cuba. Most tourists don’t stay longer than 30 days in Cuba so are never bothered with renewals of Visas. One Canadian couple we met at the beach told us they stay for two months every year, never renew their Visa and have had no problems leaving Cuba. No one could confirm if this was true or not so we decided not to take a chance. According to what was written on the back of our Visa card, we had to renew before The 2nd of February.

Jose, our taxi driver was ready for us at 9 AM the next morning to make the Visa run. The instructions were to buy stamps at a particular Bank for $25 CUC each and bring them to the immigration office. That part was easy. The line up wasn’t even very long. Next, Jose drove us to the immigration office listed in Lonely Planet, in the suburbs of Santiago. That wasn’t the correct office. The helpful clerk wrote out the correct office and located it for us on our map of Santiago. Back we went to the center of town and to an office near the port. We got talking to another couple from Fredericton NB in line to renew their Visas. They were accompanied by a Cuban friend who was helping with any language problems. They took their turn with the immigration officer just before us. They were told they didn’t need to renew at all! We didn’t either! We had both spent $50 CUC for nothing. The stamps are not refundable so we are out money unless we can sell them to a non-Canadian tourist who needs to renew. Welcome to confusing Cuba.

Anyway, we are still taking it easy. I am recovered but Ray needs another day before we tackle anything more challenging.

All-Inclusive in the Sun

2012-01-28T09:05:00.000-08:00

Playa Santa Lucia, Cuba

Saturday 28 January 2012

Kite surfing in the wind

Another white coral sand beach and more sunbathing, what more can I say. We got a good deal on Hotel Gran Club Santa Lucia, an all-inclusive resort on Playa Santa Lucia, north of Camagüey. The coral reef that forms a line of waves just offshore is supposed to be the second longest in the world, after Australia’s Great Barrier Reef, so how could we miss. Elsa, the owner of our Casa Particular, arranged for her favourite taxi driver, Aldo, to drive us to the resort on Wednesday and pick us up three days later.

The vast majority of the guests came on a SunWings package from Canada. The charter planes land at Camagüey airport and are transferred by bus to the resort, about 1 ½ hrs away. When we were there groups from Montreal, Toronto and Winnipeg were soaking up the sun. The resort is a distance from most of the interesting colonial towns so the majority of the guests stay for just one week. There were exceptions. We met an older couple from North Bay who have been coming to the same resort for 24 years and stay for most of the winter. They were only one of several people we met who keep returning to the same resort. They all like the low key atmosphere and easy living at the resort. So far we have been content to intersperse a few days at the beach with our explorations of the Cuban towns and countryside.

The resort is not five star, but it was adequate for the price. Our room was a typical hotel style, with AC, a TV and a mini-fridge that we didn’t need. The food wasn’t gourmet but included a good choice of beef, chicken, fish and vegetables. There was no shrimp on the menu, possibly because of the problems in the Holguin resorts. We learned to line up at the sections where they cook your food to order rather than choose from the already prepared dishes.

We spent our days walking the beach, swimming in the ocean and the hotel pool. It was very windy the first two days so the kite surfers were in seventh heaven. We watched several obviously experienced surfers speed out from shore, leap and turn in the air. They were having a ball.

Unfortunately, the wind meant that our anticipated snorkel trip was cancelled. We brought our masks and snorkels with us, anticipating several trips to the reef. We will have to plan snorkel trip later in our trip. There are several other possibilities.

Camaguey, Bicycle City and La Belen

2012-01-26T07:20:00.000-08:00

Camagüey, Cuba
Tuesday 24 January 2012

One of the Churches in Camaguey

Camagüey is a bicycle city in a bicycle country. The land is relatively flat in the city and bicycles are a good way to get around. Local transport in Camagüey, as in other towns, is mainly bici-taxi or horse-drawn vehicles. Car taxis are available but not as numerous. The narrow streets of town even have several streets designated as bicycle, bici-taxi, or horse cart roads. Cars are only permitted making deliveries. Our Casa Particular is on one of those streets so we have learned to watch for the bicycles rather than cars. The rest of Cuba is very aware of the prevalence of bicyclists. We have passed a few foreigners touring by bicycles, but not many. The secondary roads are not in the best shape but the motor traffic on even the main roads is light. Even the Intercity buses wait until it is safe to pass bicycles on the main highway.

It is amazing how much Spanish I have forgotten in the four years since I had to use the little I knew. I took some Spanish lessons during or before three of our other trips. This time I didn’t. That was a mistake. Just a small percentage of Cubans actually speak better English that I do Spanish. At least Elsa, who runs our Casa in Camagüey is very understanding and speaks slowly and makes sure I understand. If I had been smart, I would have taken lessons in Puerto Morelos before we arrived in Cuba. Next time I will know better, I hope.

Camagüey received its Unesco designation in 2008 as a result of its history as another one of the first seven towns founded in 1514, its labyrinth of streets, its many plazas and colonial buildings and churches. There are not as many tourists as Trinidad commanded, but there is lots to see and do in the town. Reports of purse snatchings and bicycle ride by robberies seem greatly exaggerated. We have had no problems whatsoever walking the streets both day and night. There are the usual people offering souvenirs and services, and the requisite number of beggars but no one has been very pushy. Usual a simple ‘no thanks’ will send the person on to another likely customer.

Monday I went to Etecsa, the Cuban telecommunication company, to use the internet, but found I was in the wrong office. I couldn’t understand the rudimentary directions the Etecsa personnel gave me to find the correct office. I was ready to return to our Casa and look up the address in our Lonely Planet when a kind lady who had just finished her business realized I didn’t understand where I was to go. She walked with me about six blocks right to the door of the Etecsa office with internet and just wanted a thank you for her efforts. I am not sure that would happen at home very often.

Camagüey has a very strong Roman Catholic presence but their religious beliefs do not seem to interfere with daily life. The recent code announced by the Separate School Board in Ottawa: no form fitting LuLu Lemon Yoga pants and no cropped tops that show a bit of belly, would not go over well in Camagüey. These are favoured outfits of the majority of Camagüeyan women, regardless of age or size. Miniskirts and black net stockings are popular for daytime and the evening wear. Noone could walk the uneven cobblestoned streets of Trinidad in the fashionable high heels worn in Camagüey.

Casa de la Trova Patricio Ballagas, the place for evening music, was a cut above the Case de la Trova in Sancti Spiritus. The musicians were more accomplished and the crowd was more formally dressed. At 10 Pm the action started. We were entertained by a group of two guitars, a bass, several percussionists and drummers, a woman flautist and a male and female singer. The audience danced with flair. One older woman, who must be a regular, danced every number by herself. One man, who had been dancing with a partner, joined her briefly. She was obviously more interested in dancing by herself. We returned for a second show Tuesday, but it wasn’t the same. The age of the crowd should have warned us, but we stayed for the first few numbers. It was a large group again, with a trumpet, saxophone, several guitars, drums and a girl singer. They each had solos the first number but they don’t seem to believe that the soloist should be heard. Most of the other musicians seemed intent on drowning the soloist out, at least that was my impression. Maybe I am just showing my age. There will be another night of music we enjoy before we leave Cuba.

We walked the streets of Camagüey, going from plaza to plaza, each with its church and restored colonial buildings. A local artist, Joel Jover uses Catholic themes in his work, combining traditional and modern themes. Both Jover and his wife Ileana Sánchez have had exhibitions in Toronto and in countries all over Europe. We visited both their atelier and their home to marvel over the riot of colour and variety of styles. Both are very prolific artists. Ileana prefers bright, almost cartoon characters, often combined in a collage of fabrics and other materials. Joel likes bigger works and works on series of similar themes. One we found interesting was his collages of beer can pieces and Madonnas.

Today we hired a taxi, a friend of our Casa Particular, to drive us to the Sierra del Chorillo, range of low limestone hills southeast of Camagüey. Rancho de Belén was a 60 km drive over less than perfect roads, in the middle of large nature preserve. We had arranged with Ecotur, which specializes in nature tours, to visit and explore the area on horseback. A group of about 20 Cubans were taking a 12 day course in Eco touring at the Rancho. They were on their mid-morning break, swimming in the inviting pool, when we arrived. We had neglected to bring bathing suits, so couldn’t join them.

Fiersom horns on these beasts

Somehow our promised horses were nowhere to be seen. Apparently they had got out of the stable and taken off to parts unknown. We went for a walk with a guide, Jorge, instead. He is taking courses to be a guide, especially for the abundant bird life, so he was happy to point practise his knowledge of birdcalls and point out the birds to us. It was mid-day by this time so most of the birds were hiding in the shady forests but we had a good walk. We passed a herd of cattle with the longest horns we have ever seen, outside of Uganda, sheltered in a grove of trees. We kept our distance and kept walking. By the time we got back to the ranch two hours later, hungry for lunch, the horses had been located and were saddled, ready for us. We agreed to go for a short ride after our more than adequate lunch. Cubans must think all tourists require gigantic meals, judging from our experience.

Jorge took us out again for a walk in the forest this time. My horse decided early on that she was the boss and no amount of prodding from me would deter her from grazing on the grasses and to move beyond a lazy pace. Jorge finally had to take the reins of my horse and lead her behind his. Ray didn’t have the same problem but his horse was not interested in any fast pace either. Not having been on a horse very often our short 45 minute ride was enough for me. The horses were probably glad to return to the stables too. We had a look around in the stables before leaving. The ranch specializes in different breeds of horses and cattle, plus raises antelope and zebras, rather a different mix of animals. We had a longer day than we anticipated but a good one.

Sancti Spiritus, Another Unesco site

2012-01-23T11:01:00.000-08:00

Sancti Spiritus, Cuba

Saturday 21 January 2012

Bridge from 1815 across Rio Yayabo

We forgot our own advice to always ask and bargain for taxi fares. Our Casa Particular host rode to the bus station to meet us when we arrived from Trinidad. A taxi driver had already offered his services and we assumed he would give us a fair rate with our host there. Wrong assumption; we knew the bus station was 2 Km out of town, so when the driver demanded $6 CUC, as much as the bus fare from Trinidad, we were shocked. I tried bargaining with no avail. We swear that is the last time we will be caught being overcharged.

Our last night in Trinidad threatened to be a disturbed sleep. It didn’t bother Ray, who can sleep through anything but it bothered our hosts, who worried that about both Ray and I. A cricket had taken up residence in our room and proceeded to sing loud and long as soon as it got dark. We couldn’t locate the pest so I put in my earplugs and slept soundly. The next morning we were up early to get the 8 AM bus to Sancti Spiritus and thought no more about it, that is until I unpacked by bag in our new Casa. Guess who had stowed away? The cricket! He didn’t get a chance to sing another night. He was squished by me and sent to cricket heaven.

Our Casa in Sancti Spiritus was very comfortable and our host helpful. Several of our friends in Ottawa had complained about the variety and quality of food they had in Cuba. We cannot say that has been our experience. We usually eat at least one dinner in our Casa and then try restaurants in the town. All our meals have been excellent, and the portions far larger than we can eat. We have had a choice of pork, chicken, fish, shrimp, and sometimes beef and lobster. Some Casas and Paradores (private family restaurant) serve soup as a starter. With the meat come rice, sometimes beans or potatoes, salad, and vegetables. Dessert is fresh fruit and often a sweet. We usually have a soft drink or a beer with our meal and I have had a few glasses of not bad wine. Overall we have been enjoying the variety of food but we will certainly not lose weight on this trip.

Sancti Spiritus was, like Trinidad, one of the first seven villages established by the Spanish in 1514. Consequently there is a host of old Colonial buildings to admire, but few tourists. Several bus loads arrived in time for a prearranged lunch in a restaurant and a quick tour of town before departing for the next scenic spot on their itinerary. Other than that, we were in the minority.

We had a relaxing day walking around town, taking photos of the buildings, investigating the pretty pedestrian mall, decorated with planters and sculptures, and reading our emails at the Telecommunications office. That is where the fastest connection is, and often the only internet available to tourists.

We kept wondering what product was so popular in each store that the Cubans were willing to endure long line ups outside the store before even being allowed inside to see and buy goods. Even paying a bill in the communications office or entering a bank required a lengthy wait outside. Ray was the one who braved the line ups to get more money. He passed the time in the outdoor line up chatting to fellow potential customers before his turn came to enter the bank. Ray has found that the best method to obtain cash is to use a credit card to make a withdrawal. This required a wait until the clerk confirmed that the transaction had cleared and then getting the supervisor’s attention to OK the transaction. It pays to be patient in this country.

Each town has a variety of musical performances to choose from each evening, most starting at 10 PM. The Casa de la Truvo (troubadour) Miguel Campanioni was right across the street from our Casa. It is a favourite of the older locals. Generally all Cubans love to dance and the crowd at the Casa were no exception. We got to the club a little earlier than most of the crowd, all of whom greeted each other warmly and made sure they had their supply of drinks for the evening. The drink of choice was a bottle of rum and a can of soft drink, which if consumed at all was by the women. Most of the locals don’t like to dilute their rum with soft drinks. They pour it straight into their glass and savour the flavour. We each ordered a Mojito, which labelled us as tourists right away. Ray was offered a taste of the straight goods by the group sitting next to us but I declined. Straight rum is too strong for my taste. We were entertained on Friday night by three different groups; a quintet of guitar, violin, clarinet and percussion and then two trios who played the guitar and sang in harmony. The locals know many of the numbers and sang along as they danced. We haven’t taken any Salsa lessons yet so we were content just to be spectators.

After leaving the Casa dela Truva we took in the scene at the Casa de la Cultura, which was still in fine form just down the street. The musicians performed in the open doors of the building or out on the street. The older fans had seats inside the building but the majority of the younger fans were outside on the sidewalk and spilling over into the park across the street. The old Spanish custom was for young people to walk around the square, looking the opposite sex over. Besides listening to the music, the young people seemed to be observing the same ritual but dressed in the latest fashion, which was decidedly more casual. We stayed long enough to hear one singer dressed like the Mexican Mariachi players and singing a traditional number. He was followed by a man who belted out a number that got the crowd singing along. The music in both venues went on until 1 AM but we didn’t make it past midnight.

Lingering in Trinidad

2012-01-21T08:58:00.000-08:00

Trinidad, Cuba
Wednesday 17 January 2012

The Elephant's nose

Trinidad is the town that entices us to linger longer. We find more things to do and places to visit the longer we stay. The town itself is full of interesting districts to explore and both the mountains and the beach are nearby.

We woke up Monday to smell smoke. Looking outside we thought it was just foggy, but soon realized there were fires on the hills above the cathedral, just a few blocks from our Casa. The winds had been strong ever since we arrived in Trinidad on Saturday and by Monday they were occasionally close to gale force. Apparently fires set by farmers to burn off the old crops had started to get out of control. Soot was blowing into the casa through the open courtyard and even into our bedroom. Our host, Anais, was upset at the cleanup required, but was not concerned that the fires would actually reach the Casa. My eyes were beginning to sting from the smoke. This was a good day to get out of town.

We had signed up for a day tour that included a hike to the Salto del Caburni, waterfalls in the Topes de Collantes, a 90 km long ridge of jagged hills about 20 km from Trinidad. Ten tourists from Denmark, France, Germany, Russia, and Ray and I from Canada were introduced to our genial and well-informed guide, Nancy. We all climbed into our transport, a Russian truck outfitted as a bus with open sides and hard plastic seats. The warnings that it would be a cold ride were true. Our warm sweaters and even towels came out to protect us from the chill. Trinidad gets chilly in the evening but the ride up the extremely steep mountain road was colder, especially given the strong winds blowing up from the valley. Looking back towards town we saw the red glow of the fires consuming the fields. It certainly looked scary, but it was far from the mountain we were climbing in the truck.

In the 1800s there were no towns in the mountains, just coffee plantations and workers’ huts. Now there are towns and just a few smaller coffee plantations. Nancy told us that we don’t see coffee from Cuba in our stores because nearly all the crop goes to feed the Japanese market. We stopped at a small restaurant that serves as a museum for the equipment used to process the coffee. Nancy gave us a tour and we all, or those of us who drink coffee, were given a cup of the local Arabica brew to taste. Everyone was impressed with the flavour.

We stopped a short distance from a big concreteHotel, built by Batista in the 1930s as a Sanatorium. Tourists can stay there but the majority of the space is run as a rehabilitation center with physiotherapists and other medical personnel.

We started off on our walk downhill through the forest. The mountain range is the same limestone topography as Viñales, but higher and more heavily forested. Our path led past a bare cliff called Elephant’s Trunk, after a collapsed arch overhanging our route. Further on we saw several colourful trogans. With its blue back, white breast and brilliant red belly, the same colours as the flag, it is the Cuban national bird. The bird always managed to fly off before I could get a photo.

Three Kms after the start of our walk, the muted roar of water told us we were near the waterfalls. The 62 M waterfall cascades in a ribbon of water in several stages through the limestone rocks to a natural pool where we were encouraged to swim. Reports of cold water kept some of our group from jumping in. Ray opted to watch from the rocks but five of us braved the clear water. It was like swimming in the Atlantic Ocean in the summer; freezing at first, but once acclimatized, quite pleasant. It was fun to approach as close as possible to the last waterfall filling the pool and then float in the current back to our starting point.

The refreshing swim was just what we needed before the 3 km walk uphill for our return. We stopped at a restaurant a short distance from the end of the walk for lunch. We had all worked up good appetites by then and were glad of the stop.

Our last stop was at a Mirador where we climbed stairs to a viewing platform to see Trinidad and the ocean far below us. From there it appeared that the fires above the town were contained but some fields between us and the town were still burning. The danger was past.

What is a Cuban vacation without a little beach time. Playa Ancón is a stretch of white coral sand on a long spit 12 km south of town. A taxi ride costs just $8 CUC and the driver will return at whatever time you request. We were on our way for a pleasant and relaxing day at the beach. The waters were clear and warm but most of the corals are farther offshore so the fish population was limited. Nevertheless, we had some good swims, walks on the beach, and time to read our books in the shade of a palm thatched palapa.

Our evenings have been spent enjoying the local music scene. We had lots of choices. One night we went to a nearby restaurant where the town troubadour, Isreal Moreno, plays his guitar and sings. We ordered drinks and enjoyed the music so much we bought one of his records. We may use it to accompany a slideshow of Cuba when we get home. The next night we visited the Casa de Musica where bands play salsa music every night. It is obviously a popular entertainment. The club is at the side of the broad stone stairway on which we watched the Saturday night extravaganza. The crowds had returned to sit on the steps again and watch the musicians or dance. The best dancers in the village were there, many to partner up with women who were taking lessons during the daytime. Waiters made their way through the crowd dispensing drinks. A second troupe took their turn on the small stage. It was the same group that performed African-Cuban numbers on Saturday night. They were awesome.

Today was supposed to be our last day to wander the streets of Trinidad, but we stayed one more day to to revisit Playa Ancon. We even managed a snorkle trip to the reef. Most of the reef is still recovering from the hurricanes a few years ago but the fish have come back. It is always a treat to see them in their natural habitat. We have decided to take the bus towards Santiago de Cuba, stopping at several towns along the way, so Friday will find us in Sancti Spiritus.

Trinidad, Evening Concerts

2012-01-21T08:53:00.001-08:00

Trinidad, Cuba
Sunday 15 January 2012

Former San Francisco Convent, now a museum

We couldn’t stay up long enough to see the New Year in, but we made it past midnight in Trinidad watching a gala performance marking the end of the annual Cultural Week of music and dance.

We arrived on Saturday, just after mid-day, on the bus from Cienfuegos to find the Casa Particular we had reserved was full. That was no problem. There are plenty of Casa in Trinidad to house every tourist. Our promised host took us around to find a Casa that suited us. The bedroom in the first one was too small but the second one, a block from the Cathedral and main square, Plaza Mayor. We are in one of two rooms in the old Colonial home of Anais and her husband, Cayuco, and two young sons. I am getting to use my horrible Spanish but the families have all been welcoming. There is a roof top patio to relax on and hang laundry, which is an almost daily chore.

Trinidad was founded in 1514 as one of seven Spanish settlements intended to bring the new colony under strong central rule. Just four years later the town was all but emptied when all the men in the town were recruited to fight in the Mexican wars. Far from Havana and badly protected, Trinidad was besieged by waves of pirates. The town languished until refugees fleeing a slave rebellion in Haiti arrived and established sugar cane plantations in the early 1800s. Newly wealthy merchants built large colonial homes and public buildings, as they did in Cienfuego. Prosperity didn’t last long. The Independence Wars in the late 19th C devastated the economy and it wasn’t until Batista passed preservation laws in the 1950s that recognized the town’s historical value as an example of Spanish Colonial life in the 1850s. So began the profitable tourist trade, culminating in a Unesco rating in 1988.

With the relaxing of regulations for private enterprise, family operated restaurants, called Paladars, expanded, both in size and quality of food. You can walk the streets of Trinidad, watching your step on the uneven cobblestones, and look into the rooms of old Colonial houses converted to Paladars. Antique furnishing and tables set with old silver and a variety of china are the rule. Saturday night we had our dinner in a room at Paladar Sol y Son, furnished as the master bedroom of a wealthy 19th C merchant. The food, very reasonably priced, was excellent. We ate in another Paladar Sunday evening that was good, but not quite as good as the first one. This is a twon to live from meal to meal.

Saturday’s entertainment was to start after 10 PM, on a stage set up next to the Cathedral and Plaza Mayor, with seating on broad, flagstone steps that stretch across the street beside the Cathedral. The audience, a mixture of locals and some tourists, were already waiting for the show to start by the time we arrived shortly after 10. Finally, just on time by Cuban reckoning, the first performance began; a slave era story told through dances with African drum and background song accompaniment. It was the same drum band we had heard practice in Cienfuego. They had told us they were to perform in Trinidad on Saturday night, and here they were. The dancers were very talented, as were all the acts. The African theme was followed by two women singers, one a traditional ballad singer and the other sang more modern Latin American pop. There was a large dance group performing Caribbean Mardi Gras numbers and a group of very limber and athletic men, joined by one young woman for a cat-like interpretive dance. The numbers continued even after we called it a night close to one AM. We were glad we had stayed up to see all the performers.

The Municipal Historical Museum is a must see venue in Trinidad, both for its historical exhibits and for the view of the town and surrounding countryside from its tower. We climbed an ever narrowing staircase to stand on a platform at 20 M above the town to pick out the terrace of our Casa just a block away. The museum is housed in a mansion built in 1827 with large, 7-8 M high rooms arranged around a courtyard. The walls and ceilings were decorated with frescoes and antique furnishing completed luxurious atmosphere.

Every Sunday, several blocks leading from the Municipal Building are closed to traffic, to allow food stalls and beer tents to be set up. Local people come in droves to listen to piped in music and to lunch on pork sandwiches, cut from a whole roast pig. Beer is available poured from kegs into plastic glasses or into 1 ½ litre water bottles. The last Sunday of the festival brought even more people to the streets. We could hardly make our way from block to block through the crowds, but the mood was happy and peaceful, as it has been all week.

Trinidad is turning out to be a longer stop than we had originally planned. There is so much more to do in the area.

Road to Cienfuego

2012-01-21T08:52:00.000-08:00

Cienfuego, Cuba
Saturday 14 January 2012

Customs House

What are those monuments along the road, we wonder. Then we know. They commemorate the great victory of the Cubans against the dastardly American invaders in April 1961. This is the road to the Bay of Pigs, Bahía de Cochinos. We are in a shared taxi ride, driving from Viñales to Cienfuegos. A Dutch couple in Viñales wanted to go to Playa Girón, in the Bay of Pigs, so we were picked to make the detour with them en route to Cienfuegos. Reading my Lonely Planet as we drive along, I realize we have missed an opportunity. There is much more to the Bay of Pigs than monuments to April 1961. Playa Girón, the beach where the majority of the invaders landed, is one of the best beaches and diving locations on the south coast. There is also the Península de Zapata, a vast, uninhabited swampland, coveted by naturalists. Unfortunately, it is very difficult to visit the Península unless you stay in the area and make private arrangements. None of the tour companies, as we found out later, run excursions into the area. Our cell phone is not working well enough for us to telephone the Casa Particular we have reserved in Cienfuegos and cancel. We are stuck with our original plan. We let the Dutch couple off at their hotel at the beach and continue on.

Our Casa Particular is one of several old Spanish row houses lining the Paseo del Prado, an elegant pedestrian walkway in the middle of a divided road, the same as the Prado de Martí in Havana. Sra Julia is there to greet us and usher us into her home. A series of salas (living and dining rooms) with 16 ft high ceilings, lead to an inner courtyard, off which is our room. We actually have a bedroom, a kitchen-living room and a bathroom for our use, but we will not be making our own meals. We will have breakfast and most dinners at the Casa. The courtyard, with an outdoor kitchen at the far end, is full of potted plants, a few chairs, a hammock and laundry lines. We unpack and head out to explore the town.

Horse carts and buggies were the main mode of transportation in Viñales and it is not much different here; with the addition of lots of bicycles. There are also horse drawn wagons with seats along each side that serve for short trips around town. They line up near the bus station and take off once they have at least eight passengers. There are also lots of classic cars acting as taxis, but relatively few private cars, so traffic is not an issue in Cienfuego. Neither is it a problem on any of the roads we have driven on so far.

The Parque de José Martí, just a few blocks from our Casa, is the center of most of the architecture that earned Cienfuegos a Unesco rating. Founded in 1819 by a French émigré from Louisiana, the coming of the railroad in 1850 made the town wealthy. Local merchants built large public buildings and a theatre around the Parque and built elaborate homes in an eclectic version of Neoclassical architecture. Every day multiple tour buses park and let the tourists out to explore the town for a few hours and drive on to the next center. Most tour groups don’t stick around long, meaning the evenings are very quiet in Cienfuegos.

We admired all the buildings around the Parque; the Tómas Terry Theatre, the Cathedral, Government house and in the park, fountains, a small Arc de Triumph and of course, a statue of José Martí, who became a martyr for the revolution when he was killed by the Spanish in a 19th C battle. A few blocks away was a a lovely Customs building at the head of the bay, reputed to be one of the most beautiful natural bay in Cuba. All that was lacking was a boat to take tourists on a scenic trip around the bay and enjoy a sunset dinner. That amenity is not yet available. We returned to walk along the pedestrian mall on that stretches several blocks, lined with small shops, displaying meagre goods, and side walk restaurants. We stopped to have a pre-dinner Mojito isitting by the swimming pool in the lovely Hotel la Unión. A Mojito or a Piña Colado either before or after dinner is a nice habit we are acquiring.

The next day we took a long walk along the Malecón, a boardwalk that runs next to the bay on the way to Punta Gorda, Cienfuegos upper-class suburb full of well-kept clapboard houses and rococo mansions. The most elaborate was the Palacio de Valle, built in 1917 with lots of Arabic influences. It is now a restaurant, and was serving lunch to a tour group when we were there. Part of the property was sold off in the 1950s to Batista’s brother who erected the ugly concrete Hotel Jagua. Favoured by tour groups, it apparently is very well appointed and deserving of its four stars.

We had lunch at the Club Cienfuegos, once an exclusive yacht club, now a restaurant with lovely views of the bay. You can charter boats from their Marina, with or without a captain, for a week of sailing the waters of Cuba. Unfortunately they did not have cruises where individual tourists could sign on. Another large tour group was having lunch there so Ray and I took a table on the balcony, a better choice as far as we were concerned. The tourists were mostly Americans, on a National Geographic tour, one of a few companies able to fly directly to Cuba from the United States.

The beach at Rancho Luna, 18 km south of Cienfuego, sounded enticing. We considered staying there for a few days but were advised to try it out for a day first. A tour company we consulted suggested we take the local bus, costing $1 CUC each, to the beach as the alternative was a taxi. We showed up in the morning, reserved a seat on a big Viazul bus to Trinidad on Saturday, and inquired about the bus to Rancho Luna. We were directed to Bay 4, where shortly after a vehicle resembling a jerry-built camper van with big bus-style windows along the sides, pulled up. As tourists, we got preferential treatment. We, and a few other tourists, were allowed to get in the bus and choose seats, from the few available, before anyone else boarded. This was good. Close to the departure time we were joined by the rest of the passengers, who had been waiting in the departure room inside. The object of Cuban public transportation seems to be to fit the maximum number of passengers into the minimum space. We were fine in our seats and less than ½ hour later we were let off at a beachside restaurant in Rancho Luna.

A stretch of coral sand, backed by a line of palm leaf palapas, awaited us. We laid my sarong on the sand beneath one of the palapas, as there were no chairs for rent, and went for a swim. The sand was a little coarser than Cayo Jutias but the coral reef, very close to shore, was similar. Most of the corals had been destroyed, most probably by a hurricane, but there were still some interesting fish swimming around. Ray spotted what was either an eel or an eel fish, another tourist saw a Sting Ray and I saw one of those poisonous Lion Fishes. I didn’t try to touch it. We had a relaxing day, swimming and walking on the beach, but one day was enough. We move on to Trinidad today, Saturday.

Vinales, Caves and Beaches

2012-01-21T08:50:00.001-08:00

Caves and Beaches in Viñales
Tuesday 11 January 2012

Santo Tomas Cave

Here comes our taxi to take us to see the Gran Caverna de Santo Tomás. Oh, wow, grab the cameras! We are travelling in a 1957 Chevy BelAir, white with a red roof and red interior. Rock and Roll times are here again!

Five of us, Ray and I, Nina, and Steve and Brenda Thomson, a couple from Kelowna, BC we had met at Hostal Peregrino, and who had just arrived in Viñales last night, had hired “El Popo” to drive to the cave on Monday morning. El Popo told us the car is a family heirloom. It originally belonged to his grandfather, was passed to an uncle, then to El Popo and eventually will be passed on to the El Popo’s daughter when she is old enough to drive.

We took off, Steve squeezed his 6’ 4” frame into the front beside Brenda and El Popo and the rest of us took the back seat. We soon found out there were no seat belts, the windows did not roll up or down and the handles to open the car doors did not all work. The engine worked well, even if it did labour up the hills. El Popo told us he got 5 km to the litre. At $1 CUC per litre, it costs a lot to drive. Ray predicted that if the embargo on imported cars was ever lifted, Cubans could make a big profit buying new model cars and selling their Classic cars. The problem is that there are hardly any original parts on the Cuban Classics. Whenever anything broke down on the car, it was replaced with whatever was available, a Lada or Ford engine, a part from a wrecked vehicle or even a home built part. I bet they would still find buyers anxious for a bit of nostalgia.

The cave, which has over 46 km of galleries, is in a park about 15 km from town. There are usually two guides leading tourists through the caves but one was sick today. We were asked to wait until the remaining guide returned with the first group of the day. We spent the time looking into the government store shared with the ticket office. Everything on offer was arranged on high selves behind the clerks who stood at a counter waiting for customers. Prices were hand written on coloured paper hanging below the applicable article. This was a Cuban department store as it sold everything from mattresses to household goods, used clothing, batteries and even fresh eggs. The title was a little over generous as the shelves were only half full of goods for sale.

Our guide, the genial Mike, arrived, issued each of us a red helmet and escorted about 12 of us to the path leading up to the first cave open to tourists. We had to scramble up 100 M through the woods to reach the entrance. Mike had told us it took 15 minutes to reach the entrance and another one hour to walk through the seven levels we would see; that is unless were Japanese tourists who took four hours taking photos. We took longer than an hour but less than the Japanese. I guess we were not quite as photo happy. Mile pointed out each caves best points and entertained us with corny but fun cave jokes. It was a huge complex, with many openings to the forest. Mike told us the aboriginal people had lived in the caves but no petro glyphs were found in these ones. Each cavern had many stalactites, stalagmites and columns, some resonating with sound if you struck them. Mike played a drum beat on a few of the columns to grand applause and one of the fellows in our group almost outclassed him. One day someone may connect the columns to an organ to play actual melodies, like the Luray Caves in Virginia we visited on a bike tour.

El Popo did such a good job of taking us to the cave we hired him again for a day at the beach. Nina had to return to Havana, but the Thomsons and us were keen to sample the waters of Cayo Jutias, 65 km north of Viñales. It took 1 ½ hours to reach the beach, mostly due to the poor condition of the second half of the road. The Cayo (island) was rached by a long causeway, lined with mangroves on the mainland side.

Two km farther we reached the beach, a long, narrow stretch of white sand with a restaurant in the middle. El Popo parked the car and we made our way to the beach where we chose four long chairs under a palm leaf roofed palapa. It was time for a swim in the crystal clear waters. We had brought our snorkels and masks with us and the Thomsons rented theirs from the dive shop. The water was relatively shallow, so the waters were just the right temperature for swimming and the nearby reef kept the breakers away from the beach. We made our way into the water, avoiding low grass beds, looking for the best corals. Alas, most of the corals close to shore were dead or just regenerating, but we managed to find a few interesting fish to interest us. I made three trips out to seek out the fish, so it must have been good enough to tempt me, but the Yucatan at Puerto Morelos was much better. Nevertheless we did have a very pleasant day, swimming, relaxing in the sun, chatting with the Thomsons and enjoying a small lunch. What more could you ask for?

Vinales, Walk in the Fields

2012-01-21T08:47:00.001-08:00

Walk in Viñales Valley
Sunday 8 January 2012

Is Ray smoking that big cigar?

We were glad we had made reservations for a Casa Particular in Viñales before we left Havana. We got off the bus after a 3 ½ hour ride from Havana on Saturday to a crowd of touts desperate for clients for their Casa Particulares. We were very pleased to see a young man with our names on a sign was waiting to lead us to our Casa Particular, Villa El Niño. We walked with him a few blocks to our street lined with pastel coloured small bungalows, ours is pink, opposite the Municipal ball field. Our hosts are a very pleasant couple who share the house with their daughter, Yanet, her husband, Alexander, and their five year old daughter. Ray and I have a double room with a bathroom and a second room was taken by Nina Leino, a Finish woman we travelled with from Hostal Peregrino. Next door is another Casa owned by Yanet’s Aunt. In fact, the small town of Viñales has more Casa Particulares per capita than any other place in Cuba. There are just a few streets in the town but each one has at least five Casas advertising rooms to rent. The burgeoning tourist industry has spawned a healthy restaurant industry and tour companies offering a variety of activities. You can hike, go for a horse ride, visit caves, take a day trip to the beach or just generally kick back and relax. We are doing most of the above.

We have both breakfast and dinner at our Villa. The food is quite good, fish the first night and chicken the second, and far more than we can eat. Breakfast is equally over sized. I have been trying, with little success, to have a tiny lunch to compensate for two large meals.

Sunday, Ray and I hired a guide, Ari, to lead us on a walk through the Viñales Valley. This is the favourite area for horseback rides as well as hikers. Several groups on horses passed us as we started off. We walked about 6 km in all, starting right from the house. Within minutes we were walking through the farmland where the soil is a rich red, perfect for fruits and vegetables, coffee and tobacco.

This is the season when the farmers start to pick the tobacco and hang it to dry. They hang the freshly picked leaves outside on wooden racks, and after 20 days the leaves are moved into a drying barn to cure for another three months. Several of the barns were covered with palm leaf thatching, both the walls and the steeply pitched roof. The tobacco leaves are ready for the next step when the rainy season starts in May. The dried leaves are sprinkled with a combination of cinnamon, anise, honey and water and left to marinate for a year or two. Only then are they ready to roll into cigars. We visited one farmer who explained the cigar making process and demonstrated how to roll a cigar. He also grows coffee beans so we bought a soft drink bottle full of beans to try out at home. We bought 12 organic, homemade cigars for Andrew to sample when we see him in April. We were assured the packaging of palm tree bark and a plastic bag would keep the cigars moist for 1-2 years provided they were kept away from the light. Someone else told us they keep best in the freezer. Time will tell.

The valley is ringed by dramatic mountains called Mogotes (haystacks), some up to 300 M high. The pinnacles are remnants of a limestone plateau that rose from the sea during the Jurassic period 160 million years ago. Wind and rain eroded the limestone and rounded the peaks. Now they are covered in forests, except for sheer cliffs where the sides of the hills have given way. This is the same Karst formations we have explored in other countries such as Vietnam and Thailand. Spelunkers love to explore the many underground rivers and caves in the Magotes and rock climbers come to test their skill on the bare cliffs.

Ari led us to Cueva de la Cava (Cow Cave), a short tunnel accessed by a 120 M scramble up the rocks to the entrance. One rock climber was part way up the rock face near the entrance and another was near the exit. We were not tempted to join the climbers. From the mouth of the cave we had a good view of the valley with Viñales a short distance away. Our descent was a set of concrete stairs, part of which had collapsed. We made it to the valley in short order.

On our way back to town we stopped at a small fruit and vegetable stand where the farmer owner displayed all the produce he grows. To quench our thirst we had a choice of hand pressed pineapple or guava juice. It was delicious.

We soon were back in town, just in time to watch a local baseball team practise for an upcoming game. Baseball is still king in Cuba, despite the growing popularity of soccer and basketball.

Havana History and Music

2012-01-21T08:46:00.000-08:00

Walking Havana, Day 4
Friday 6 January 2012

San Carlos de la Cabana Fort

“Pay $0.10 CUC, no more, to take the ferry across the harbour,” admonished the attendant at the wharf. “Gracias,” I replied. This was our return trip on the small ferry taking passengers from the city side of the harbour across to where the Fortaleza de San Carlos de la Cabaña, a fort museum was located. When we had departed in the morning there were no signs indicating the cost of the ride and the couple in front of Ray and I didn’t know the price. We observed several local people giving small coins to the attendant before getting on a ferry going to another destination, so we guessed the ride didn’t cost very much. When our ferry arrived, I gave the attendant $1 CUC for the two of us, thinking we would get change back. No, the attendant demanded another $1, which I paid. I guess the other attendants are fed up with complaints that the city attendant is gouging the tourists, unfamiliar with the true cost of the ferries. Oh, well, live and learn, again.

We spent several hours exploring Fortaleza de San Carlos de la Cabaña and admiring the views of Havana from its ramparts. The fort was built in the 18th C on a long, high ridge on the east side of the city, to strengthen the defence of Havana. In 1762 the British had captured Havana by taking control of this ridge, but lost the city to the Spanish just 11 months later. The Spanish built Fortaleza de San Carlos de la Cabaña, the largest Spanish Colonial fort in the Americas, to repel future invaders. It was so impregnable it was never invaded. Instead it became a jail and place of executions for the last two dictators, Machada and Batista and Che Guevara used it as a headquarters immediately after the revolution. Che exacted his revenge by executing many of Batista’s officers.

Within the fort is a museum dedicated to Che Guevara and, of course, Fidel Castro, and an armaments museum. We toured both but preferred the battlements with their long lines of cannons, some from the 18th C. We were still at the fort at lunch time so we took advantage of their small restaurant on the site. The only problem was the rest rooms. This was the first time we encountered rest rooms that closed for the lunch hours. Fortunately they opened again when we were ready to return to the city at 2 PM.

Once back in the city, we walked through the Plaza des Armas, where musicians were warming up for an afternoon concert, due to start at 4 PM. We decided to sit in the shady park and wait for the music to start. We were glad we did. The orchestra was all woodwinds, brass and percussion instruments, led by a young woman conductor. There were no seats for the audience but it didn’t matter. We all happily stood to hear the orchestra play a classical selection, followed by Cuban and jazz selections. The musicians were all excellent. Several got their chance to shine during the jazz numbers, adding their own flavour to the selections. It was a great way to end our visit to Havana.

Havana by Bici Taxi

2012-01-21T08:44:00.000-08:00

Touring Havana, Day3
Thursday 5 January 2012

Che Mural on Government Building

Breakfast at Elsa and Julio’s is a little UN. We have spoken with guests from Canada, China, the US, Wales, France, Switzerland, Germany, Israel, and Brazil, in just two days. Somehow they manage to take care of us all. Bus tickets for us to Viñales, west of Havana, for Saturday morning and a Casa Particular (private home with rooms to rent) have been reserved for us by Julio. He has also arranged for a taxi driver to go to the distant bus station today to pick up the tickets for us. It is still high season and the buses are full, making prior reservations essential. We now have a list of recommended Casa Particulares in several towns that can be arranged one after the other, as we decide it is time to move on. Julio has a very efficient network.

The recommended way to see the sights of Havana is to get on a hop on, hop off Habana Tour bus for just $5CUC. We stopped a bici-taxi (pedicab) driver letting off passengers at the Museo de la Revolutión to ask directions to the bus stop. He suggested a tour by bici-taxi for the same price instead. He hailed his friend who agreed to take us for one hour at $10 CUC (about the same as CAD or US$) and off we went. The driver spoke only Spanish, my Spanish is rusty so it took a while before he understood we didn’t want to visit the same places we did the day before. When our driver found out we had not see the Plaza de la Revolución, we agreed to go there, not having any idea how far it was from Central Habana.

The driver took us south along the harbour, stopping at several sites along the way to take photos. We passed up a tour of a rum museum at a Havana Club Brand establishment and just had a look inside the bar next door, Dos Hermanos (Two Brothers), a reputed favourite of Hemingway and several actors of the past.

The modern, built in 2000, white, Russian Orthodox Cathedral Señora de Kazán, was next. It was consecrated by Raul Castro in 2008 as an attempt to reunite Russian-Cuban relations after their breakup in 1991. Another stop was to see the exquisite Iglesia de San Francisco de Paula, a small church with a huge stained glass window and an organist practising for a Friday night concert. We passed part of the original walls of city, built in the 17th C to defend the city against pirates and foreign armies. The walls were demolished in 1863 and just sections remain. A stop at a huge souvenir market didn’t tempt us to buy anything.

Finally, we reached the Plaza de la Revolución, which we found in our guide book in the Vedado section of the city. Our driver had been struggling up a few hills to get to the plaza so much Ray hoped he wouldn’t have a heart attack. He was glad to have a rest while we explored the plaza. We remembered passing two government buildings with huge murals on our way into the city from the airport. One building portrayed Fidel Castro with the words Vas Bien Fidel (It goes well Fidel) underneath. The other was Che Guevara with the words Hasta La Victoria Siempre (Always Toward Victory).

The gigantic paved plaza area was conceived by a French urbanist in the 1920s to rival Paris’ Place d’Étoile and its Arc de Triumph. In January 1998 one million Cubans, out of a 10 million total population, jammed into the square to hear Pope John Paul II say Mass. Behind the square is a hill with the tallest structure in Havana, a concrete tower that you can ascend in an elevator to see the view. We were getting tired by this point and decided the extra cost wasn’t worth the effort. A huge marble statue of José Marti at the base of the tower was much more impressive.

According to our maps it was still a long way back to Central Havana. The driver huffed and puffed all the way to the post office next to the National Capital building. We had been with him three hours. We figured the maximum would be $30 at $10 per hour. He asked for $60CUC. We were aghast and refused to pay that much. We had an argument and my offer of $40, still more than generous, was finally grudgingly accepted and we left. Yes, he worked hard, but give us a break, we don’t appreciate being robbed.

We ended our tour by walking back to Café Lamparilla in Habana Vieja for a good lunch and to listen to the quartet play and sing Cuban music. It had been another long day and there is still lots more of Havana we haven’t even attempted.

Walking Havana Day 2

2012-01-21T08:40:00.001-08:00

Walking Havana, Day 2
Wednesday 4 January 2012

Feeding pigeons in Plaza San Francisco

All we can see is a long line of tour buses parked next to the Malecón next to a big stone fort, the Castilla (castle) de la Real Fuerza. It has taken us about 20 minutes to walk from our Casa Particular in Central Havana to visit Habana Vieja (old Havana). Luckily it is a large area and the crowds of tourist soon disperse. We soon find out why so many people visit this area.

There are four main plazas in the area and we have already found one, Plaza de la Catedral, full of Cuban baroque buildings, from 1770s, all lovingly restored. There are people in costume roaming the plaza, searching for tourists willing to pay a small amount to pose with an historical character. Other tourists are enjoying a mid-morning coffee break in one of several outdoor restaurants. The namesake of the plaza, the Catedral de San Cristóbal de la Habana, is suitably impressive, both outside and inside.

The Castilla (castle) de la Real Fuerza, in the shape of a four point star and surrounded by a wide moat, is the oldest existing fort in the Americas, built 1558-1577. On top of a cupola atop one of the towers is La Girardilla, a bronze weather vane in the form of a woman, said to be the wife of a gold explorer. We decide the Museo de Navegación, inside the fort, is worth a visit. There are gold, silver and jewels found during scuba explorations in 1980. There are models of Spanish ships, including the three in Christopher Columbus’s fleet, the Nina, the Pinto, and the Santa Maria, which reached Cuban shores in 1498. There is even a model of the Canadian schooner, the Bluenose, which made a trip to Cuba several years ago. My favourite was a huge scale model of the Santissima Trinidad, with figurines depicting life on a galleon.

Just across from the Castilla was the Plaza des Armas, Havana’s oldest square, under its original name of Plaza de Iglesia (church) dates from the early 1520s. The name changed in the late 16th C when the current governor held military exercises on the plaza. Used book stalls line at least two sides of the plaza. Another tourist said Habana Vieja reminded them of Paris and this plaza with the book stalls certainly does. We liked the Museo el Templete, a tiny neo-classical chapel where first mass was held under a ceiba tree in 1519.

We continued south, past museums, shops and restaurants, stopping to see a group of Flamenco musicians and dancers perform in one of the restaurants. Plaza San Francisco, facing the harbour, was first a market in the 1500s. The construction of the Iglesia y Monasterio de San Fransisco de Asis in 1608, and rebuilt in Baroque style in 18th C, changed the name and character of the plaza. Today the church is both a concert hall, offering classical music and a Museum of Religious Art. Outside the church beneath a statue of St Francis holding a child, was a young woman busker, dressed in red, sitting amidst a flock of pigeons, attracted by the bread thrown into the air by her accomplish as a photographer snapped pictures. On another side of the church was a bronze sculpture of El Caballero de Paris, a street person in the 1950s who engaged passers-by in philosophical discussions. Everyone, including myself, likes to pose with him for a photo. The most notable feature in the plaza is the white marble Fuente de los Leones (Fountain of Lions), carved by an Italian artist in 1836.

At last we reached the fourth Plaza Vieja, laid out in 1559 and originally called Plaza Nueva (New Square). It was used for military exercises and an openair market. During Batista’s presidency the plaza was destroyed to build an underground parking lot. When the parking lot was demolished in 1996, the ruins of an ancient aquaduct were found. Many of the plaza building had signs in front displaying photos of what the buildings looked like prior to 1996 when a massive renovation project transformed the ruined buildings into a beautiful plaza.

It was lunch time and the Café Lamparilla, on a nearby street of the same name, beckoned. It lived up to its reputation with good food, inexpensive food, and music provided by a quartet of a guitarist, a woman playing a flute and percussionists. The Cuban music was so good I bought their CD.

The way back to our Casa Particular was along Calle Mercaderes (Merchant’s Street). This cobbled, pedestrian way was extensively restored to 18-th C splendour. Besides more museums, shops, restaurants, murals on walls depicting colonial artists and literary people kept our interest. We stopped into the gallery and sculpture garden, complete with a brace of peacocks, started by Carmen Mantillo, a patron of the arts.

The stone benches along the Paseo de Marti gave us a chance to rest on our way home and to watch kids on skateboards perform tricks for the audience of their friends while an impromptu band entertained older Habaneros.

Cubans are used to line-ups but we get tired of them very quickly. Los Nardos restaurant, across from the National Capital building, is very popular and doesn’t take reservations. We had passed the restaurant the previous afternoon and there were line-ups even at 3 PM. We decided to give it a try for what we considered an early dinner, by Cuban standards, at 6 PM. It took us an hour in line to get into the restaurant and sit at a table. The interior, boasting lots of dark, carved wood, was a lot fancier than we had imagined, given their reputation for inexpensive meals. The food wasn’t gourmet, but the quantities were large and it fit the bill. A pitcher of Sangria helped us to get over the long wait. We did enjoy the meal but I doubt we would brave that long a wait again.

First Impressions and Walking Havana Day 1

2012-01-21T08:38:00.000-08:00

Havana, Cuba
Monday 2 January 2012

Ola car in front of Hoastal Peregrino

Just as we had been warned, Cuba is a living museum of 1950s American cars. It was dark by the time we left the Havana airport but we could see that the cars we were passing in our taxi as we drove into Havana were large, well kept but ancient models of Fords, Chevrolets and other models no longer seen in North America outside of Classic Car shows. As we got closer to our chosen home for the next days we couldn’t help but notice that the rows of once-beautiful colonial buildings all looked in desperate need of an overhaul. Even in the dark of early evening it looked enticing. We looked forward to wandering the city the next day.

When Ray checked the Cubana Air website Monday morning he discovered our departure time for our flight from Cancun to Havana had delayed one hour to 3:30 PM. We quickly sent off an email to our hosts in Havana so that they could notify our expected pickup at the airport of the change. We got a bus to Cancun Airport, purchased our Visa for Cuba, paid the requisite departure tax and checked our bags with the airport. The departure time of our flight now said 2:59 PM, but we weren’t concerned. If the flight was to leave earlier than we had thought that was OK. We were there in plenty of time. There was never any explanation given for the unreliability of the departure time, maybe it was just Cuban perception of time, but the website departure ended up being closer to reality. It was nearly 4 PM by the time we finally took off from Cancun but the 1 ½ hour flight was uneventful and our taxi driver, a helpful young woman was waiting for us.

Our first order of business was to get money. Cuba is a cash society and operates, at the tourist level, with currency called CUC, which is approximately worth the same as a Canadian or US dollar. It took us about ½ hour standing in a long queue of tourists, to change our Canadian into CUC. We stood behind an American woman from San Francisco who pointed out her boyfriend guarding their luggage and two hard cased bicycles. They were planning a two week bicycle tour around the Eastern section of Cuba. We had just discussed the relative merits, and problems, of bicycling in Cuba with several of our Ottawa friends, so we were very interested in what their plans were. I am sure they will do well. They seemed well prepared and young enough to weather bad road conditions and difficulty getting food in small towns.

Private ownership of homes is a new phenomenon in Cuba so many of the buildings have decayed exteriors. When our taxi driver let us off at Hostal Peregrino, it did not look very promising. The first floor looked well cared for but the ground floor windows were boarded over with plywood. Our taxi driver rang the doorbell, and a key to the front door was lowered on a rope. After unlocking the street level door, we walked up a long, doubled-back flight of stairs to the next level. Our knock on a door with a Hostal Peregrino sign bought Julio Roque to welcome us into a sitting room filled with comfortable couches and lots of knick-knacks. Like many of the Havana buildings, we were to learn, the exteriors mask the comfortable interiors. We felt instantly at ease.

Julio, interrupted multiple times, by his cell phone and by queries from his wife, Elsa, gave us a briefing of what we would expect at his establishment and the does and don’ts of touring Havana. Julio and his wife have run a Casa Particulare (rooms in a private home) for 12 years. With the relaxation of private enterprise rules they have expanded from the original 2 rooms they were allowed to rent. A year ago they purchased their current home where they have 3 tourist rooms and an apartment, and have additional rooms in an adjacent building. Julio arranges travel arrangements, gives advice on a myriad of topics and helps Elsa and their kitchen staff serves breakfast and dinners in their dining room. During the high season, which extends from just before Christmas until May, overflow guests are housed in neighbouring homes. We were part of the overflow. That was fine with us.

Julio notified our new hosts that we had arrived and they were soon at his door ready to escort us to their home. We chatted to Tatiana, who speaks good English, and her Spanish speaking mother, Christina as we wheeled our suitcases down the street and around the corner to the home where Christina and Tatiana’s grandmother live. The residential streets were full of people gossiping on the sidewalks and dancing to music coming from several doorways. This was the last night of a three day New Year’s Holiday and everyone was still celebrating.

Christina’s apartment was a short flight up from the street on one side of a narrow central courtyard strung with clotheslines. Our room, one of two she rents out, faced the courtyard. It was simply furnished with a double bed, a small table and chairs, and a bathroom with a hot water shower. It looked clean and comfortable.

It was a lot colder in Havana that what we were used to in Puerto Morelos. A cold front had come in, from Canada, of course, bringing lower temperatures and high winds. For the first time, we needed our fleece sweaters. We left our luggage in our room and returned to Hostal Peregrino for dinner. The dining room accommodates 10 people at a time and there were at least three sittings that night. Regardless, the meal was very good. Ray and I had a fresh fillet of fish and helped ourselves to side dishes of rice, beans, salad, other vegetables and fruit. There was even a good pudding for desert. Our dinner conversations centered on our individual travel plans and experiences. That is the extra benefit of staying a place that encourages meeting other guests. We get recent recommendations and travel tips. We will put the advice to good use.

Walking Havana, Day 1
Tuesday 3 January 2012

Che Guevarra and friends

Our first full day in Havana was windy and chilly, especially along the Malecón, an 8 km long sea drive laid out in early 1900s as promenade for Havana’s middle class. A cold front from Canada, so we were told, had descended on Cuba and the high winds were whipping the sea into a frenzy. We were at the mouth of the harbour, next to the Castillo (castle) de San Salvador de la Punta, built between 1589 and 1600 to defend the harbour. The Castle, now a museum, stands facing the Castillo de Los Tres Santos Reyes Magnos del Morro (Three Sacred Kings) guarding the opposite side of the harbour from pirates and foreign invaders. Waves crashed over the low sea walls, flooding the walkways and parks lining the Malecón. The waves were so strong in some areas that sections of the Malecón were closed to cars. We stood transfixed, trying to get the perfect photo of the highest waves to hit the walls. We did make sure we were not in the path of the breaking waves.

We have spent the last three days exploring Havana, mostly by foot. Our Casa Particular is just a few blocks from the Prado, the Paseo de Marti, named for the poet, and early revolutionary, José Marti. There are statues all over the city honouring this important Cuban. The Paseo dates from 1770, designed as a European-Style Boulevard as splendid as any in Paris or Barcelona. Bronze lions, added in 1928, guard the beginning and ends of this pedestrian walkway, set in the middle of a busy divided motorway. At the junction of the Paseo and the Malecón were several parks with statuary and fountains commemorating historical people and events. One was the Memorial de los Etudiantes de Medecina. A fragment of a wall encased in marble marks the spot where 8 Cuban medical students were shot by the Spanish in 1871 as retribution for the alleged desecration of a Spanish Journalist (they were not responsible). A short distance from the Castle we came upon a statue of Pierre LeMoyne d’Iberville, born in Montreal, who died when his ship was attacked at anchor in Havana harbour in 1705.

Our route back to Havana Center led past the Museo de la Revolutión, housed in the former Presidential Palace, built between 1913 and 1920. The interior, designed by Tiffany’s of New York, is one reason to visit. The Salón de los Espejos (Mirror Room), based on Palace of Versailles, is a highlight. The other reason to visit is to understand present day Cuba.

We passed by bullet holes in the marble walls of the grand staircase leading to the exhibits. The holes are the result of a March 1957 unsuccessful assassination attempt of Batista, the hated President of Cuba. The exhibits on the top floor of the ex-Palace are a chronicle of Fidel Castro and his fellow revolutionaries from 1953 to their eventual victory in 1959. The middle floor boasts of all the reforms and good works of the new socialist government in the 1960s and 1970s.

In a park behind the museum is the 18 M yacht the Granma, encased in glass. Fidel Castro and 81 other revolutionaries travelled in the yacht from Tuxpan, Mexico, arriving in Santiago de Cuba in Dec 1956. Vehicles used during the revolution and Soviet alliance surround the Granma.

We took lots of photos that day of the ornate buildings, including the huge Capitalio Nationale, sporting a dome even grander than the one on the US Capital building in Washington. The baroque Gran Teatro de la Habana, one of the most ornate buildings in the center also caught our eye.

Christmas in Puerto

2011-12-27T15:05:00.000-08:00

Puerto Morelos, MexicoTuesday 27 December 2011

What! No turkey dinner with all the trimmings? What is theworld coming to! But is that what we really want for in a warm climate? No,give me shrimp ceviche every time! Yes, that was our Mexican Christmas dinner;shrimp ceviche with a large, delicious salad and a bottled of chilled, whitewine. To top the day off after a swim in the ocean, we had guacamole, refriedbean dip and a bottle of beer.

The usually almost empty beach was a hopping place fromChristmas Eve Day through to Boxing Day. All the beach umbrellas were occupiedand extra chairs and beach blankets were scattered over the sand. The gringotourists were joined by many happy Mexican families enjoying lunch, a beer anda dip in the ocean. It was the place to go and be seen and we were thereenjoying the scene as well.

In fact, we have established a pleasant routine. The Mexican-Chileanowners of one of the restaurants are starting a Yoga studio and vegetarianrestaurant in their home. Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning will see melearning the yoga moves at the studio and their four course meal on the patioin front of the studio earned a return visit.

At least once a day we go for a swim, sometimes with oursnorkels, and a walk on the beach. Our first foray with the masks and snorkelswe brought from home had us plunging into the water right from the beach andimmediately encountering several rather large barracuda. They didn’t seem veryinterested in us, but a fellow snorkeler warned me not to wear my silver hoopearrings as the barracuda might be attracted enough to try to take a nip. I amheeding that warning. A small, brown sea turtle appeared foraging for food inthe sea grass beds. I followed it as far as the corals before it took off inanother direction and we were distracted by the colourful fish. Another day wetook a boat trip out to the reef, just a few 100 meters offshore, to see moreturtles, Eagle and Sting Rays and lots of fish. Our guide picked up a baby sting ray for us to pet the velvety underside before setting it free. The corals are only a few feetbelow the surface so all you need is a mask and snorkel to view them.

Our main meal is usually at one of the local restaurants atlunch time. With a small kitchen in our condo, we can prepare our own breakfastand a small snack for supper. We are now addicted to guacamole. It is nutritious isn't it? Our before supper routine is a dice game calledFarkle, cribbage and gin rummy. We don’t keep a running tally of wins.

We haven’t even bothered with the television. Our books aremore interesting. We have already traded one Ray brought with him and I amgetting used to reading on my Kobo ereader. I did buy two from Chapters-Indigobut I am looking for free downloads if possible. There are old classicsavailable from Chapters-Indigo and I have downloaded three so far from ourlocal library in Ottawa. We are not getting bored.

To see photos on Picasa of Puerto Morelos and the Mayan Palace Resort click the following and select slideshow to see the photos
https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/Mexico2011MayanPalaceResortPuertoMorelos?authuser=0&feat=directlink

Coba 21 Years Later

2011-12-22T12:17:00.000-08:00

Mayan Palace, Mayan Riviera, MexicoTuesday 20 December 2011

Jeanne On top Of Coba Pyramid with young Mexican tourists

As soon as we started off in our minivan that was to take usand 11 other people on a day tour to the Coba Archaeological site we knew wewere in trouble. The van seemed to sway from side to side, getting graduallyworse. Our driver, Gustavo, stopped by the side of the highway and he and ourguide, Pepito, got out and examined the tires. Sure enough, as Ray suspected,one was almost flat. I think Ray and I are transportation jinxes. No matter whatcountry we are in, at least one of our rides ends up with a flat tire or brokenmotor. Mexico is no exception.

We had signed up while in Playa del Carmen on Saturday forwhat sounded like a great day. As well as Coba, which we had visited 21 yearsago on our first trip to Mexico, we were going to swim in a cenote, have lunchand visit a Mayan village. We were already at least 1 ½ hours behind schedule. Gustavohad picked us up first at 7:15 AM and then we had wasted more than one hourrounding up the other passengers. People were not where they were supposed tobe, were late and one, an Italian Lady, seemed to have lost her husband. She couldn’tunderstand why we couldn’t wait while she tracked him down.

Guide Pepito, driver Gustavo wait for tire repair

Finally we were on our way when the tire went flat. Luckilythere was a tire service center just down the road. The service man was veryefficient but it took another half hour to locate the pin hole, plug it andreplace the tire. We continued on down the highway.

After that delay Pepito announced a change in the itinerary.All except Ray and me had opted to visit Tulum Archaeological site and swim onthe beach. Ray and I had visited Tulum previously and we had stayed in Tulumtwice before. That is why we had opted for a swim in a cenote, one of many freshwater pools formed by an opening in the limestone crust that covers most of theYucatan Peninsula. Instead of visiting Coba first, we would all have ouralternate activities in the morning, have lunch and then visit Coba. That wasfine with everyone. Pepito led the Tulum group through the ruins and they allhad time to swim in the ocean.

Casa Cenote

Ray and I were taken to Casa Cenote, about 5 km north ofTulum. We had swum in a cenote on a previous trip. This one was better than weoriginally thought. This cenote was right beside a road lined with housesfacing the beach. All we saw from the road at first was a small pond with a fewpeople already in the water. We had brought our own masks and snorkels with us,so we changed into our bathing suits and soon slipped into the clear, coolwaters. Mangroves, with their roots sending their tentacle roots into thewater, form a barricade all around the sides of the cenote. The roots are theperfect nursery for baby fish while larger ones cruise the bottoms. Much to oursurprise the initial pool was just the starting point for a cenote river thatmeandered for several 100 meters between the mangroves. At the end of one turna heron stood undisturbed by the swimmers, waiting for the right moment tosnatch an unwary fish for dinner.

Cenotes are favourites with divers as well. The depth isoften shallow enough for beginner divers and there are underwater limestonecaves to explore. We swam above several groups, waving a greeting, on ourjourney through the system. There was a definite current in the river system,making us work to get to the end of the system, but making the return trip abreeze. We finished our swim when we started to feel chilled, as the water wascooler than the ocean. Luckily the sun was out so we soon were warm enough tochange and take a short walk on the beach, just across the road, before beingpicked up by Gustavo.

We picked up the others in Tulum and headed to our lunchstop near Coba. A few km later the minivan began to sputter and Gustavo once againhad to stop by the side of the road. It seemed that the car was out of gas. Thegas gauge wasn’t working and he had not kept track of when the van was lastfilled. At least there was a container of gas with enough fuel to get us to theclosest service station where he put in enough to last us the rest of the day.By the time we got to lunch we were all famished. It had been a long time sinceany of us had eaten breakfast. Luckily the buffet lunch still had enough foodto feed our group.

Ray and I were curious to see what changes had occurred inCoba in the intervening years since our last visit. About the only change wecould see was the increase in visitors. The site was never overcrowded butthere were many more small tour groups like ours there for the afternoon.Pepito told us that Coba had first been studied by a team from the Universityof Chicago from 1961-1963, working on a grant from then President Kennedy.After Kennedy’s assassination, the grants dried up and virtually nothing hasbeen done since then. Just a small percentage of the site has been uncovered,leaving many more important temples waiting to be cleared of the jungleovergrowth that has covered them. Coba was occupied by the Mayans for about1100 years, from the 4^th C to the 15^th C, when theSpanish Conquistadors arrived. It was one of the most important ceremonial andastrological sites in the Yucatan, connected by a road to Chichen Itza. Thereare two ball game sites on the site where the Coba team would take on theChichen Itza team. Nearby is a Mayan Calendar with 21 December 2012 as the endof 5,200 Mayan years. Legend says that after this date there will be climaticand geological imbalances and that man’s life span will decrease. Time willtell if these predictions are correct. I don’t intend to lose any sleepworrying about it.

The tallest pyramid, at 42 M, in the Yucatan is at Coba andit is still open for visitors to climb for the view. We both climbed to the topin 1990. This time Ray declared he had been there, done that, and didn’t needto climb up again. I climbed to the top. I was glad to discover it wasn’t anymore difficult a climb that my first ascent. The trees still obscure much ofthe view but I did get a sense of how extensive the jungle is at Coba.

We stopped in a small Mayan village on the way back, mostlyto see, and hopefully buy, the souvenirs the locals make. I am afraid thelocals did make any profit from our group. We were all just anxious to get backto our hotels after the long day. The most interesting sight for me was spyingtwo spider monkeys playing in the trees behind the home we were visiting.

Finally, we arrived back in Playa del Carmen where theothers were staying. Ray and I continued back to the Mayan Palace, withoutincident. There were no more flat tires and the fuel supply lasted until wewere let off. Despite the problems, we did have a good day and were glad torevisit some of the spots we had enjoyed before.

To see photos on Picasa of our day trip to Coba and the Casa Cenote click the following and select slideshow to view the photos
https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/Mexico2011DayTourOfCobaCenote?authuser=0&feat=directlink

Condo Time on the Mayan Riviera

2011-12-22T12:00:00.000-08:00

Mayan Palace on Mayan Riviera, MexicoMonday 19 December 2011

Mayan Palace Beach

We said we would never subject ourselves to a timesharesales pitch again, and this time we mean it! We phoned to cancel our breakfastand condo talk and were told that there were a lot of changes to the MayanPalace organization that needed explanation. That was true but did it have totake us all morning to convince the staff that we were not interested in anyupgrade. Our biannual week at a Mayan Palace resort is almost more than we canuse. Even the payment for attending what is essentially a sales session was notworth the hassle. That is the downside of timeshare ownership. Yes, the resortsare already good and are becoming more upscale every year. The rooms spaciousand comfortable, with kitchens for those, like us, who like our own cookingrather than expensive restaurant fare. Many people are content to spend theirentire vacation at one resort but not us. We like to explore other countries independentlyand if we can, we appreciate a week of upscale accommodation, but we can onlytake so much of large resorts. Give us the small, casual places any day.

We moved to the Mayan Palace, about 11 km south of PuertoMorelos, last Saturday morning. There are several new buildings on the propertysince we were there four years ago, most of which are Grand Mayan Palaceaccommodation, the upscale condo section. We are in the standard, Mayan Palacesection. Even though we arrive at 10:30 AM and check-in time is not guaranteed until5 PM, the helpful clerk locates an available room for us. We managed to leaveour bags in our new room and hop on a resort minibus bus heading for Playa DelCarmen, a 20-30 minute ride farther south. It is a large tourist town with lotsof hotels and restaurants, a good sandy beach and, the most important draw forus, a big Wal-Mart with a good grocery section. We buy enough to see us throughhalf of the week. We had planned to have a swim on the beach but the skies areovercast and it rains periodically. Instead we have a leisurely lunch in one ofthe resorts and make it back to the Mayan Palace after dark. If we were closerto the equator, sunset would not be until 7 PM, but at this time of year in theYucatan, the sun sets shortly after 5 PM.

Pool bar

The next day we are ready for a day lounging around the hugepool complex and exploring the beach. The surf is still high so the red flags,meaning dangerous swimming conditions, are out. The access to the ocean fromthe Mayan beach is not good anyway. The shoreline was decimated by HurricaneWilma several years ago and most of the sand was swept out to sea leaving arocky limestone shelf extends several meters into the sea. The only safe timeto swim, as we discovered four years ago is at high tide when the seas arecalm. Instead we lay claim to beach chairs around the pool and I head for ahalf hour yoga stretch class on the beach. The instructor is quite good andcertainly challenging for a neophyte yoga follower like me. I plan to attend asmany of these sessions as possible. The other class I like is a half houraquafit session that is quite popular. I even convinced Ray to join me and he pronouncedit fun and worthwhile. Both of us passed on the pool and beach volleyball andother game sessions. We both like to read our books, swim periodically andgenerally relax. We did manage a walk down the beach and worked on our tans,slathering on the sun screen so as not to burn. Such is the life at a beachresort.

To see photos on Picasa of the Mayan Palace Resort and Puerto Morelos click the following and select slideshow to see the photos
https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/Mexico2011MayanPalaceResortPuertoMorelos?authuser=0&feat=directlink

Unchanged Puerto Morelos

2011-12-18T18:17:00.000-08:00

Puerto Morelos, MexicoFriday 16 December 2011

Massage tent on Puerto Morelos Beach

Puerto Morelos has changed little in the four years since welast visited. There are no new streets expanding the town and the Westernborder is still defined by the mangrove swamps. A few new buildings have filledempty lots and condos damaged in previous hurricanes along the beach are beingrebuilt. A few hotels and restaurants are gone; a few new ones have taken theirplace. A few more souvenir shops have opened in the vicinity of the townsquare. Teenagers play and gossip in the park waiting for the bus to take themhome.

We visit a few of our favourite restaurants and find themstill good value. We enjoy a North Americanized Mexican lunch at DoñaTriny’s and we join the locals at La Pepita for shrimp ceviche and fresh filletof fish. Gringos spend the morning eating breakfast at outdoor cafésaround the town square. We buy breakfast makings at the local grocery where thebeer and booze section takes up more than half the space. The good news is thereare now loaves of good healthy bread baked by local Gringo women sold in thegrocery.

The beach is still a long expanse of white sand with few sunworshippers. The massage tables have arrived in Puerto. T outs invite you enjoya session on massage tables setup under sun shades at regular intervals alongthe beach. Several of the beach front bars advertise specials of 5 cervezas(beers) and two for one happy hour cocktails. The reef is still about ½ kmoffshore, lined with boats full of snorkelers enjoying the colourful fish. Deepsea fishing boats are anchored in a row beside the wharf. The boat touts standat the entrance to the beach chatting amongst themselves, business is slow.

For once, the weather is unsettled. Instead of clear, blueskies, dark clouds hide the sun and the wind whips up the surf. The water ischilly at first but still a pleasant temperature, about the same as ournorthern lakes in the height of summer. We happily float in the water, bobbingabout in the waves. The current send us south along the beach for a shortdistance, just as it always has. After our swim we walk north along the beachto dry off. It is comforting to find familiar buildings still lining the shore.

In short, Puerto Morelos is still the same small village weenjoyed in the past; the same good, uncrowded beach and clear waters; the same varietyof restaurants. We know we are going to enjoy our stay here.

Mexico and Car Rental Madness

2011-12-16T19:29:00.000-08:00

PuertoMorelos, Yucatan Peninsula, Mexico
Thursday15 December 2011

“You did get a good rate,” said the Dollar (Thrifty) Car Rentalagent at the Cancun Airport, “would you like to purchase additional car insurance?”

“No,” replied Ray, “it is covered under our Visa credit card.”

“Let me explain the PLI, Personal Liability Insurance,” saidthe agent, “the Mexican government now requires that you purchase thisinsurance as there are no local representatives in Mexico for American orCanadian credit cards. The cost is $20 USD per day.”

“But that is more than twice the daily rate of the car!” exclaimedRay.

Ray and I had just arrived from Ottawa that morning. We the extreme kindness of our friend Al Robinson, we had been driven to the airport at 3:30 AM to catch our 6:00 AM flight to Cancun. We were tired and didn't need any agrevation. We had reserved a car through the Westjet website forthe 18 days we would be in Mexico. We had flown to Cancun with Westjet and usedthe same car rental company in Wales. What started out being an economical wayto explore more parts of the Yucatan Peninsula was suddenly ballooning to unacceptablelimits.

Another man in the car rental office, at a separate desk,beckoned me over. “If you agree to attend a session explaining our hotel, theMayan Palace, I can give you discount coupons to cover the extra insurance,” hetold me.

The Mayan Palace was where we had arranged a timeshare condofor one week starting next Saturday. It sounded like a good compromise and wetold the car rental agent to add in the extra PLI insurance. He figured out thecost on a hand calculator and showed us the total. We couldn’t believe oureyes! It was more than four times what our original arrangement had been!

“Can you please explain how that total was calculated?” weasked the agent.

“Certainly,” he answered, “there is an 11% tax on the PLIand an extra 15% airport tax on top of that.”

That was just too much for us. Even with the discountcoupons the cost was more than our budget could take. The public bus system,our usual mode of transportation, was looking better and better. We left theDiscount Car Rental office with no car and headed to the airport bus depotacross the road.

A short time later we were on a comfortable bus heading forPuerto Morelos, just 20 km south of the airport. It cost less than $5 CAD perperson. We took an $2 CAD taxi from the bus stop on the highway into PuertoMorelos and arrived in time to have a relaxing lunch before finding our condorental. We booked into a pleasant studio apartment, complete with kitchen, ablock from the town square and three minutes from the white sand beach. Thetown is so small we don’t have to drive anywhere. Besides, walking is good forour health.

We are staying in Puerto Morelos for two nights before headingto the Mayan Palace on Saturday for the next week. Then it is back to ourstudio apartment in Puerto Morelos until after New Years. Once again, it willbe public transport with the occasional taxi ride for us, no expensive rentalcar this trip.

Istanbul: Body and Soul

2011-10-20T08:36:00.000-07:00

Wednesday 19 October 2011

The perfect way to end a trip to Istanbul is to take care ofyour body and soul. Of course, this is more significant for Muslims, but surelythere is carry over for non-Muslims. We spent the day visiting three differentmosques and I ended with a Hamami (Turkish Bath) experience. We are now readyfor the next chapter of our trip, Paris.

Wednesday dawned clear and decidedly warmer, Hallelujah, aperfect day for walking. We made our way towards the Grand Bazaar area,stopping in to see the Beyazit Mosque, the second largest imperial mosqueerected in Istanbul after Ottoman conquest. It was impressive. Built by SultanBeyazit II between 1501-1506, he ordered that decoration were to use vastquantities of marble, porphyry (a rock, often purple in colour, with largecrystals), verd-antique (dark, dull green, white-mottled or white-veined), highlypolished serpentine and granite. Twenty columns were constructed in the mosque courtyardof these materials, mostly salvaged from churches and ancient ruins. The cemeteryreminded us of the ancient mosque in Selςuk, near Ephesus, with tombstonesdecorated with Arabic or flower designs topped with hats worn by the deceased.

Istanbul University gates

At the rear of the Beyazit Mosque were the massive gates of IstanbulUniversity. The university was first established in 1453 as a Madrasa orreligious school and became a university in the mid 1800s. We would have lovedto walk through the expansive grounds of the University but security guardswere admitting only people with approved passes.

We continued to Suleymaniye Mosque, a commanding presence ontop of one of the seven Istanbul hills. You find out how steep those hills arewhen you start walking the city. We didn’t keep track but I am sure we summitedseveral of the hills. Our Lonely Planet told us that the most famous andtalented Ottoman architect was Mimar Sinan. He built 351 buildings in Turkey, ofwhich 78 still exist. Suleymaniye Mosque, built from 1550 to 1557 for SultanSuleyman the Lawmaker (AKA the Magnificent), was not the largest Ottoman mosquebut it was the grandest, setting the standards for classical Ottoman style andart techniques. The carved and painted decorations were beautiful.

Right next to the mosque was the Suleymaniye Hamam, built atsame time. All Muslims must wash before entering a mosque for prayers, so itmakes sense to have a Hamam nearby. This Turkish Bath House is still inoperation, open to the public.

The mosque was just a few blocks away from the floating FishSandwich restaurants beside the Galata Bridge, and it was noon, the perfectchoice for a quick, tasty lunch stop. Across the street was the Spice Market.Who could resist the aromas of the spices and the sight of the artfullyarranged displays of produce, including infinite varieties of Turkish Delight candies?We bought a few dried figs stuffed with a half walnut for our desert. Anotherdisplay of these delicacies called them “Turkish Viagara”. We didn’t get achance to test the veracity of this claim!

Leaving the Spice Market we joined throngs of Istanbulshoppers spending their lunch hour eating at the small pide and donair shopsand picking up merchandise to bring home. There were no vehicles on the streetat this hour, just pedestrians and workers carrying goods on their backs to theshops. We made it back to Kapilicarsi Gate where we had started our exploration ofthe Grand Bazaar nearly a month ago. Tour groups were still in town, intent on entering the bazaar ratherthan be tempted by the displays of handbags and carpets outside gates, much tothe disappointment of the shop keepers.

Carved column capital in Little Aya Sofia

We continued back to our hotel, near the Little AyaSofia (Kucuk Ayasofia Camii), which wasour last stop of the day. Formerly an Eastern Orthodox Church dedicated to the Saints Sergius and Bacchus, it wasconverted into a mosque during the Ottoman Empire. It is one of the mostimportant early Byzantine buildings in Istanbul. Due to its strong externalresemblance to the larger Aya Sofia, it was believed that the building had beendesigned by the same architects as a model for the Aya Sofia, but that theoryhas not been proven. Whatever the true origin, it is still known as Little AyaSofia. Like all the mosques, it was a peaceful place and simply but beautifullydecorated.

I couldn’t leave Turkey without at least one visit to aTurkish Bath. Our hotel recommended Gedikpasa Hamam, built by ArchitectHayreddin in 1475. Transportation arrived at the hotel to take me to my 3 PMappointment. Some hamams have mixed male and female facilities but theGedikpasa Hamam had separate facilities. This meant that instead of wearing abathing suit, each person wrapped themselves in a woven cloth. The hamam wascertainly not crowded. There were only two other women finishing their treatmentwhen I arrived. I started with a sauna, followed by a loofah scrub, a rinsedown, and a full body massage and soap scrub. That completed I had a short swimin the slightly cooler plunge pool to complete the experience. I felt relaxedand cleansed; a good feeling.

Our only mistake we made in Istanbul this time was to buywine in a corner store to have in our room. We had been lulled into thinkingall the wine sold in the corner stores was the same quality we had experiencedon the island of Bozcaada. The Istanbul offering was so bad we returned to thestore to complain that it was skunky. We ended up accepting a substitute bottlethat was almost as bad. We recommend sticking to beer in Turkey, except forknown wine areas like Bozcaada. Oh well, live and learn.

We did enjoy our time in Turkey and would love to return toexplore other parts of the country, especially the Eastern section, provided itis not an active war zone.

To see photos on Picasa click the following and select Slide Show to view
https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/IstanbulBodyAndSoul?authuser=0&feat=directlink

Contingency Planning

2011-10-18T10:00:00.000-07:00

Tuesday 18 October 2011

We are becoming experts at making alternate travel planswhen the original plans refuse to cooperate. Once we had left Bozcaada andtravelled to the hub town of Çanakkale, we had a choice. The optionswere a six hour bus ride to the bus depot in Istanbul that was 14 km out oftown or a 2 ½ hour ride to the ferry port in Bandirma and a two hour boat rideto the Yenikapi port in Istanbul, a mere 2 km from our hotel. All our advicehad been to take the ferry.

The timing was right. The wind had dropped a knot or twoover Bozcaada, we caught the 11 AM ferry to the mainland and a minibus waswaiting at the ferry ready to take us for the one hour trip to Çanakkale.The next bus to Bandirma was not until 2:30 PM but we had lots of time to makethe 6:30 PM ferry to Istanbul. Of course each of the bus rides took a littlelonger than advertised but we were still in Bandirma in time to get a shuttlebus from the out of town bus station (why do they put them so far out of town?)to the ferry. All was well except therewas no ferry! We never suspected that big ferries could be cancelled but thisone was; we assume because of the windy and rainy weather.

We considered staying overnight but decided to find out ifthere was a bus that evening to Istanbul. The minibus shuttle to the busstation was just loading and there was a 6:30 PM bus to Istanbul. We just madethe connection, along with everyone else who had intended to take the ferry.The poor bus driver had his problems too. He tried, along with several trucksto take a short cut on another ferry closer to Istanbul. No ferries wererunning. One of the major highways was blocked by police. The driver had totake yet another alternate route. We finally reached the Istanbul bus stationat 11:50 PM. At least the taxi ride to our hotel was fast, if more expensive atthat late hour, and our room was waiting for us. We were glad to get the tripover with, especially as we learned the ferry situation had not improved verymuch the next day either.

Now we are in Istanbul for the next two days. Today was 6ᵒ Cand rainy but the forecast for tomorrow is a high of 17ᵒ C. Of, do we wish theforecast is accurate! There are a few more spots we would like to explore inIstanbul before leaving on Thursday. Wish us luck.

Windy Bozcaada Island

2011-10-18T01:43:00.000-07:00

Sunday 16 October 2011

The rain started as soon as we got onto the ferry to theTurkish island of Bozcaada. It is a favourite summer resort but this wasOctober and the skies were grey and cold. Our half hour trip to the islandbrought us to the quaint village of Bozcaada but it didn’t bring betterweather. It continued to be very windy, rainy and cold the two and a half daysof our visit. Forecasts for the mainland were no better so there didn’t seem agood reason to leave early.

Greek Orthodox Church still towers above the town

Known as Tenedos before Turkish independence, the islandchanged hands many times over the centuries. The castle fortress dates fromByzantine times with later Venetian, Genoese, and Ottoman additions. The islandwas occupied by the French and English during WWI and only became part of theTurkish Republic in 1923, when it was renamed Bozcaada. Prior to 1923 thepredominant population was Greek, with the Greek Orthodox church very importantin their lives. Of course after the exchange of populations with Greece in1924, the majority of the people on Bozcaada were Turkish. The local museum hada large section devoted to the Greek citizens.

The island has always been the premiere wine producingregion in Turkey, some of which we sampled during our visit. Fishing is stillan important industry but tourism has taken over as the number one industry.The village has more hotels, pensions, restaurants and cafes per capita thanany other place we have visited in Turkey.

Bozcaada harbour

Mid-September, after children have returned to school andtraditional vacations have ended, means that many of the businesses are closeduntil the following spring. Even those restaurants that remain open during theoff season are only open on Wednesdays and weekends. We arrived in the town of Bozcaada to see locals queing behind a truck. We had no idea what was happening and we were intent on findingour recommended pension and then a place to eat. We located a two-room pensionwith the correct name, Ergin Pansiyon, the doors were open, (this is not a highcrime district), the rooms were empty and ready for travellers, but no one wasaround. We experienced language difficulties talking to neighbouring businesses,trying to locate the owners. We tried to finding an alternate pension still inoperation at a reasonable price. I knocked on the doors of several, getting noanswer or being told they were not open.

We returned to the center of town where several locals bekoned us over to the truck and offered us a take-out meal of rice pilaf, yogurt and a condiment. We were hungry so we ate, wondering if this was a festival event. No, a young man explained that his grandfather had died two years ago and every year on the anniversary of his death his family come with lunch for the townspeople. That is when we noticed that the meal was being offered beside the town mosque, to which the grandfather belonged. Muslims have a history of providing a soup kitchen for the needy, and at that moment we were happy to be needy.

Refreshed by our lunch we tried again to locate Ergin pension. This time we found out that Ergin hadtwo more houses they operated under the same name, just a few blocks away. Wefound the owner, a friendly, older lady (probably younger than us) with whomwe communicated in sign language. We were shown to a nice, large room with abath, and that is where we stayed. We had breakfast in the woman’s house nextdoor and when the rain let up and the winds were not too bad, we explored thetown, wandering the narrow streets and sampling the tea rooms and restaurants.

We had plans to walk the hills above the village but thatwill have to wait for another trip earlier in the season. Instead we willreturn to Istanbul for our last two days in Turkey, hopefully to visit a fewspots we missed on our first stay.

To see a photos on Picasa click the following and select Slide Show to view

https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/WindyBozcaadaIsland?authuser=0&feat=directlink

Behramkale: Athena on a HIlltop

2011-10-15T02:33:00.000-07:00

Thursday 13 October 2011

Temple of Athena

“My favourite ruin is the Temple of Athena”, we were told.It was a bit difficult to reach, taking us nearly three hours and three publicbuses to go around the bay from Ayvalik to Behramkale, but it was worth theeffort. Behramkale and Assos are really the same settlement separated by a 1000m hill. Assos, originally a small fishing village, now predominantly touristhotels and restaurants, is at the base of the hill on the shore. Behramkale isan old Greek village surrounding the ruins of an Acropolis (fortified hilltopcity). Since we were to stay just one night, we chose a simple Pansiyon inBehramkale within a short walk of the ruins.

It was a beautiful sunny day for a change. As soon as wechecked into our Pansiyon we set off up the hill, past all the souvenir boots,still hoping for sales despite the distinct lake of tourists. It was past thehigh season and almost no tours passed this way anymore. The women of the village still sat in groupsknitting quite pretty shawls to display at their booths and chatting amongstthemselves. A few booths had handmade olive soap which appealed to me. I couldcarry at least one cake in my bag. One local told us that the tourists fromEastern Europe, new entrants into the market, liked to bring home souvenirslabelled from a recognizable site. There were a few booths catering to thattaste. A tea house on the way used bits of columns to make their outdoortables. It was a nice touch regarless of what the archaeologists would say.

Lookout tower in Acropolis

There was one local teen-aged school group and a Swissfamily sharing the site with us, but that was all. The Swiss family told usthey had been swimming in the ocean at their hotel in Assos and it was stillwonderfully warm. What a blissful day. We never felt hurried along and we couldwander at will. There is not much left of the famed 6^th C BC Ionic Templeof Athena apart from the base and some columns, but the setting gave usunobstructed views of the hills surrounding the location and the sea over toLesvos. Most of the temple was destroyed to build houses and cisterns severalcenturies later as the city grew. The friezes that decorated the temple werecarted off to Boston by a later archaeologist. Fragments of sturdy city wallsthat snaked around the top of the hill and down the sides to protect thefortress city were still in evidence. Ruins of watch towers stood where theyalways kept guard. Fragments of columns and big buildings blocks were strewnover the hilltop. It was easy to use our imaginations to see what must havebeen there and to wonder how it was ever built in so desolate an area.

Theatre in lower ruins

We could see more ruins lower on the hill but a sheer cliffprevented access from the top of the Acropolis. We found an easy way to theruins. We could follow old village roads right down to a road that led to anabandoned gate to the lower ruins. Cars were prevented from entering but wewere not. We found sarcophagus piled on top of each other in the Necropolis(cemetery) area, maps indicating the Agora, market area, ancient temple ruins,including a very early church and a beautiful theatre. We were the only peopleexploring. We had to dodge cow patties and watch out for a long brown snakethat slithered under a bush, but we continued undisturbed. It was a bonus find.These were the type of ruins tourists found 20-30 years ago, before tourism hitTurkey. We relished it.

It was the end of the season and the temperature was rapidlydropping. After such a warm day we had the coldest night yet. Only severallayers of blankets saved us. It was time to move on.

To see photos on Picasa click the following and select Slide Show to view

https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/BehramkaleAthenaOnTheHilltop?authuser=0&feat=directlink

Ayvalik, Made for Walking

2011-10-15T02:18:00.000-07:00

Wednesday 12 October 2011

Ayvalik

‘I lived in Ayvalik for three years’, Isa, our driver, toldus.’ I know my way around’. We stopped at a little tea shop and Isa greetedseveral of his cronies, but no one knew where the Kelebek Pansiyon was. OurLonely Planet map was no help as we didn’t know the names of the street we wereon and the street naming convention was different than anything we werefamiliar with. We had driven down steep, narrow, cobblestoned streets to get tothe tea house and we were about to experience several more streets wheremeeting a car coming the other way meant that one of you had to back up. Therewas not enough room to pass. Sometimes there was enough room to pass, as longas you had a lookout telling when you had clearance of at least 2 cm.

We came to an old church with a clock on its steeple thathad been converted to a mosque, as evidenced by a minaret in the courtyard.“There is a Kelebek Pansiyon sign on the wall!’ I said. ‘You can let us outhere and we can walk the rest of the way’. No way were Ray and I going to riskgetting stuck in any more narrow alleys. We thanked our driver and said ourgood-byes and pulled our suitcases over the cobblestones to our pansiyon. Thereis no way Isa would have been able to get there. This is a walking town, not acar to drive in a car.

Kelebek is managed by Mustafa, a Turkish man who lived onLong Island, New York, for several years with his parents. Consequently hespeaks English with a distinct New York accent. Mustafa told us that thestreets are straight up and down, often with a 10-20% grade, for a purpose. Inthe rainy season the water rushed down the hills straight into the ocean, whilein the hot summer season the breezes from the ocean have a clear path up the hillsto cool the houses. He told us a one of his clients insisted on driving his carto the pansiyon, even after being advised to park outside the old town and walkto the pansiyon. It took him an hour to manoeuvre through the impossibly narrowstreets. His suggestion was to tear down many of the old houses and widen thestreets for vehicle traffic. Mustafa and our suggestion was to retain thecharacter of the town by closing the old town off to motor vehicles andproviding less invasive shuttle service (maybe horse or electric?) to thehouses.

Kelebek Pansiyon is in an old Greek House, similar in designto many of the other houses in this district. One of the first moves MustafaKemal (Ataturk) made after the creation of modern Turkey in 1923 was to declarethe republic Turkish. That excluded the Kurds in the east and theGreek-speaking communities in the Western areas of Anatolia. The result was thepopulation exchange between Greece and Turkey. The large Greek-speakingcommunity in Ayvalik was shipped to the island of Lesvos and the smallerTurkish-speaking community of Lesvos came to Ayvalik. That left a lot of emptyhouses in Ayvalik, some of which have been restored as Pensiyons or vacationhomes and some of which have been left to decay. Because Ayvalik and Lesvos areso close to each other, and the main industry of both was olive growing andprocessing, the move was not as traumatic as in other communities. Even todaythere is an annual festival linking the two communities and a lot of visitingrelatives in both places.

We spent our two days in town roaming the streets and thewaterfront. Ayvalik has an active fishing port on the Agean Sea with smallrestaurants lining the shore. Even during the low season locals and touristsboth spend afternoons drinking tea or having a beer while watching the world goby. Horse carts are still used to transport goods in the old part of the city.The harnesses of the many horses were gaily decorated with tassels and brassand some had intricate designs painted on the sides of the cart. At one squarethe cart drivers sat having their morning tea while the horses enjoyed a break.Down the street we stopped to watch four men playing a version of Gin Rummyusing ivory pieces the same size as dominoes instead of playing cards.

It was a relaxed visit. In the summer there are beaches to explore and if you are a diver, red corals at 30 M. This was not the time for bathing suits, just walks and stops for tea.

To see photos on Picasa click the following and select Slide Show to view

https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/AyvalikAWalkingOldCity?authuser=0&feat=directlink

Pergamum After the Rain

2011-10-13T13:14:00.000-07:00

Tuesday 11 October 2011

Our new friend Isa was happy. We were happy. Isa has waited two days for us to hire him todrive us to the ancient fortified hill town, Pergamum Acropolis, and theHieropolis, the health center. We have just enough time to make our tour beforecatching a bus out of town after lunch.

Red Basilica

We have been luckier than several of the Mediterranean coastaltowns. The rains we experienced for the previous three days caused extensiveflooding elsewhere and even a few deaths. We just didn’t venture far from ourPension. Bergama had more to offer than we chose to do in the pouring rain.There is a good Archaeological Museum, a Hamami (Turkish Bath) and the RedBasilica, a large temple dedicated to the Egyptian gods Isis and/or Serapis. Inthe first century AD, a Christian Church inside the main building ofthe Red Basilica was identified as one of the Seven Churches of Revelation. Another is in Ephesus. We took photos of theRed Basilica from the shelter of our Pension balcony. It was too wet to visit.Ray also liked Bergama because it was the first real Turkish town we visited.There were few tourists and the streets were lined with tea houses filled withlocal men playing cards, chatting and enjoying their tea. I never saw any womenspending the day at the tea houses.

Just a note about cats: Greece gets the press on cats. Turkey is way ahead of cats in numbers per population. Cats are everywhere and most look fairly healthy.

The Acropolis was directly uphill from our guesthouse. To getthere you can take a cable car, walk or drive the 5 km of switchbacks to thegates. Isa drove us up and waited for us while we took our time exploring. There were a few other tour groups wanderingaround so it was comparatively empty, nothing like the crowds of Ephesus.

Temple of Trajan

Most of the buildings and monuments in Pergamumdate to the time of Eumenes II (197-159 BC) when Pergamum was a wealthy, developingcity with a population of over 200,000 people. The structure that is the mostprominent and beautiful is the only Roman monument, the Temple of Trajan, startedby Emperor Trajan, who also had the Fountain of Trajan built for him in Ephesus,and finished by Hadrian of Hadrian’s Wall in England. Thetemple, dedicated to the cult of both emperors and Zeus, was built on a highmarble covered podium. On the slope of the hill, parallel supporting wallscovered with barrel vaults, forming a passage way, were built in order tosupport the large platform in front of the temple.

Just the foundations and parts of columns of the oldest temple inPergamum, the Temple of Athena, dedicated to the goddess protector of the city,are visible today. From the size of the ruins it must have been a veryimpressive building. Next to it are ruins of a library that contained 200,000manuscripts which were carried off in 41 BC by Mark Antony to be offered toCleopatra as a wedding present to replace the 500,000 volumes contained in thefamous library in Alexandria destroyed by a great fire. Our guide in Ephesustold us Cleopatra also took the manuscripts from the Library of Celsus, so theAlexandria library must have had a good second start.

If you want to see the beautiful reliefs that once decorated the GreatAltar, dedicated to Zeus and Athena, you will have to go to Berlin. The reliefswere taken back to Germany by a German Archaeologist in the 1880s. All that isleft is the base. Also impressive was a Theatre seating 10,000 people, builtinto the side of the hill below the Temple of Athena. Billed as the steepesttheatre in the ancient world, it certainly looked as if few modern theatreswould rival it for steepness.

The Asclepion, one of the first medical centers of the ancientworld, was down the hill from the Acropolis and three km south. The Acropoliswas the temple area of Pergamum. The city itself expanded over the valleybelow. There are parts of the original city walls still standing in Bergama. Isastopped on the way to point out part of one gateway into the city and anancient minaret without the loudspeakers that call the faithful to prayerstoday. Two girls, walking with a younger sister, asked us to take theirpicture. We obliged and got their address to send them a copy.

Snake Symbol

We found the Asclepion fascinating. Dedicated to Asclepius, thegod of healing, it became increasingly popular. People with health problems would come and stay indormitories. Their dreams would be interpreted to determine the cure, whichcould include bathing in the water of one of the three sacred springs. Archaeologistshave found lots of gifts and dedications that people would make afterwards,such as small terracotta body parts, no doubt representing what had beenhealed. Snakes, one of the modern symbols of medicine, were sacred toAsclepius. They were often used in healing rituals. Non-venomous snakes wereleft to crawl on the floor in dormitories where the sick and injured slept. Ofcourse, Asclepion had an Agora, the market area, and a theatre where the peoplewould be assembled for important announcements as well as entertainment.

We finished our tour just in time for a small lunch before our busto our next destination, Ayvalik, a fishing town on the coast about 75 kmnorth. Isa offered to drive us there for just a bit more than the cost of thebus ride, so we agreed. His sister Ulun, whose car Isa was driving, called afriend to join us so that they could visit a friend in Ayvalik, and the five ofus set off. An hour and a half later we were in Ayvalik, but that is anotherblog.

To see photos on Picasa click the following and select Slide Show to view

https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/BergamaAndPergamumRuins?authuser=0&feat=directlink

Pamukkale: Where Romans Took the Waters

2011-10-10T07:25:00.000-07:00

Monday 10 Oct 2011

Pamukkale travertines

All’s well that ends well. After a three hour bus tripfrom Kusadasi, we catch the first glimpses white on the hills of Pamukkale. We aregoing to bath in the hot mineral rich springs that created the white mountainsand tour Hieropolis, the spa town build by the Romans around the springs. Itwas worth all the aggravation beforehand. First of all the tour company forgotto pick us up at our condo on Thursday and the next tour was not untilSaturday, our last day in Kusadasi. It poured rain Friday night and was stillchilly and grey Saturday morning. After our bus finally arrived and the lastpassengers were picked up from their hotels, the weather cleared and the tourstarted to improve. We were glad we came.

The non-bathers wade in the hot springs

Pamukkale, Turkish for ‘Cotton Castle’, named for the whitetravertine pools that cover the hillsides is another World Heritage Site tocross off our Life List. 17 hot thermal streams spew over 400 l/s of mineralrich waterhigh in calcium, magnesium sulfate and bicarbonate. The water tumbles down the sides of the hills,eventually hardening into shallow concentric terraces filled with water. Mostof the travertine pools are off limits to waders but

people still come to thearea to bathe in the springs at various hotels and so are we. We werebrought to one of the many spa hotels with its own thermals to test the watersand enjoy a good buffet lunch. We could have bathed in the waters if we hadknown we were supposed to bring bathing suits. As it was, we waded in the hotpools. Our guide, Risa, told us to slather our bodies with the brownish-yellow mud in the hotter poolsand we would look five years younger. I spread mud up my knees so at least mylegs are more youthful looking.

After lunch Risa led us to the top of thetravertines for the best photo ops, no bathing allowed, and to exploreHieropolis, the ruins of the Roman City. Just 25% of Ephesus has been uncoveredbut only 5% of Hieropolis has been fully excavated. We were given two hours toexplore on our own and like all the other archaeological sites we have visited,it wasn’t enough time.

Hieropolis,meaning ‘sacred city’, had a population of 25,000 people in its heyday but theadjacent Necropolis, the city of the dead, had over 100,000 tombs. Thediscrepancy occurred because of the number of people who came to Hieropolishoping the medicinal waters would cure their illnesses. Many were not cured andbecame permanent residents of the Necropolis. This is the area Ray and I foundthe most fascinating. There were informative signs to explain the varied stylesof the often elaborate tombs and sepulchres. In Roman times the dead were sentrichly attired and provided with food and valuables to ease their way into theafterlife. Consequently most of the tombs showed evidence of grave robbery.

The Agora street uncovered

Besides the tombs there were ruins of a Basilica, hugearchway gates leading to various parts of the city, temples, and a theatre,currently under reconstruction. The roadway leading through the agora wasdiscovered covered in two M of calcite. Compressors had to be used to remove crackthe calcite and reach the paved roadway beneath. Cleopatra’s Pool is open tobathers for 25 TL each. We didn’t think it was worth the price. We also didn’thave time to visit the on-site Archaeological museum. You can’t do everythingin a short day.

On the way home we stopped at a textile store. Besidesthe cotton of the travertines, the area is noted for growing cotton andproducing cotton textiles. Ray convinced me to buy two locally made bath towelsmade of 60% bamboo and 40% cotton. The drawing card is their improved dryingpower. We shall verify that claim at home.

To see photos on Picasa click the following and select Slide Show to view

https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/PamukkaleTheRomanSpaCity?authuser=0&feat=directlink

Ephesus day tour from Kusadasi

2011-10-07T07:50:00.000-07:00

Friday 7 October 2011

The main street of the ancient city of Ephesus is throngedwith people. In Ephesians times it must have looked like this when thegladiator games finish in the Great Theatre. There were between 250,000 and400,000 inhabitants in Ephesus at its height and the Great Amphitheatre seated25,000. That meant daily traffic jams in the city. Today it is the sheer volumeof tourist, Ray and I amongst them, come to visit the ruined city. We are in agroup of 23 following our guide, Murat, who holds high a red and whiteumbrella. Ray and I take frequent sorties to snap photos so the umbrella is ourbeacon to find our group again. We would have preferred a smaller group andless people to compete with in Ephesus, but this is the way it is and Murat isvery informative.

We arrived in Kusadasi last Sunday, having travelled by busfrom Fethiye. Our condo complex, Holiday and Leisure Club, is in the hillsseveral km above the city. We have a small studio with a kitchen where we arepreparing most of our meals. We take the free shuttle service to the citycenter to buy food and explore the harbour area. Huge cruise ships dock everyday but the city is not overcrowded with tourists. That is because the vastmajority take a day trip to Ephesus. We just walked around the town, avoidedthe entreaties of the hundreds of small shop owners and enjoyed a glass ofTurkish tea sitting by the sea.

Back at our condo we spent an afternoon by one of the manypools and swam in the refreshing water i.e. colder than the Mediterranean.Another day we took the club shuttle to Long Beach, several km of sandy beachlined with small resorts. The water was pleasant and a good way to spend a lazyafternoon.

The condo offered several day tours at reasonable prices. Wetook their full day to Ephesus and plan to visit Pamukkale tomorrow. Pamukkalealso has a reputation for being crowded but it is said to be worthwhile.

Ruins of Temple of Artemis

Despite the crowds we did enjoy our Ephesus trip. We started at the ruins ofthe Temple of Artemis. You would never know it know but it was once one of theSeven Wonders of the Ancient World, even larger than the Parthenon in Athens.Artefacts from the Bronze Age have been found at the site. The first temple wasbuilt by the Amazons, the warrior clan of women, who celebrated Artemis as theGoddess of Fertility. It was built entirely of marble with 127-40 ft columnsarranged in rows around the perimeter of the temple. The temple was rebuilt atleast three times. Once after floods in the 7^th C BC destroyed thetemple and it was the victim of a pyromaniac, Herostratus, in 356 BC. Then thetemple was sacked in 401 AD by a mob led by the Archbishop of Constantinople,as an attack on paganism. All that remains of it now is blocks of marble strewnabout the grounds and one reconstructed column with a stock nest on top. It isa true ruin.

All tours have at least one stop at a shop. Ours was apottery factory where workers demonstrated their expertise at a wheel andpainted intricate designs on items. Of course there were rooms full ofmerchandise to buy but it was too expensive, too difficult to transport, andnot to my taste.

According to a legend, Ephesus was founded by an Ionian.Androclus left Greece in the 10^th C BC and after a long journeylanded on the Agean Coast. A cryptic oracle had told him that a fish, a boarand a fire would point him to the best site for a new city. All came true in itsfashion and Ephesus was born. Many of the ruins in Ephesus owe their existenceto Roman occupation in the 1^st C BC. There are Roman baths, mosaicson the floors of houses, aqueducts bringing a sophisticated water system to thecity and even toilets cleaned with constantly running water.

Celsus Library and Gates of Mazeus and Mythridates

One of the most impressive buildings is the Library of Celsus, theGovernor of Asia Minor in the 2^nd C AD. His son built the library afterhis father’s death to honour him. It originally housed 12,000 papyrus scrollsin niches in the walls. There was a 1 m space between double walls behind theniches allowing air to circulate and preventing damage to the scrolls due toextremes of temperature and humidity. Our guide Murat told us that Cleopatramoved the scrolls to Alexandria after her visit with Mark Anthony. The facadewas two stories tall and slightly concave, giving the illusion of a much largerbuilding. There were three doorways on each level, with a statue of Athena, theGoddess of Wisdom, above the center door and four statues representing theVirtues: Goodness, Thought, Knowledge and Wisdom flanking the lower level doors.The facade was carefully reconstructed by the Austrian Archaeological Institutein 1910. You must go to Vienna to see the original statues as reproductions nowstand in their place.

Beside the library are three archways built in 40 A.D by theslaves Mazeus and Mythridates for their emperor, Augustus, who gave them theirfreedom. Other impressive ruins were the two amphitheatres; the Odeon with acapacity of 1500 people and the Great Theatre seating 25,000 spectators. TheTemple of Hadrian is covered in carvings, including Androclus chasing a wildboar that has stolen his fish and causes a bush to catch fire; a depiction ofthe founding of Ephesus. The Fountain of Trajan overlooked a bathing pool. Around sphere at the entrance once was the footrest of Emperor Trajan indicatinghe was a global traveller and knew the world was round, long before Galilleo.Murat pointed out a symbol scratched into the pathway. It was a secret way toindicate Christians were there. Shaped like a pizza, Christians used the symbolfor the Greek word iktus, meaning fish. The Greek symbols making up the word iktus canbe found in the pizza and act as a short hand for a phrase in which each wordrepresented by one letter of iktus is ‘Jesus Christ God's Son Savior’.

As we were walking to the exit, bugals rang out and the Emperorand his entourage approached his throne. Several times a day, a theatricalgroup depicts dancers and gladiators performing for the emperor and his lady.It was a fitting end to our visit.

House of the Virgin Mary

After leaving Ephesus the people who were on a half-day tour weredriven back to Kusadasi while the rest of us went to a roadside restaurantwhere we joined other tour groups for a good buffet lunch. From there we droveto the House of the Virgin Mary near Selςuk. Nine years after the deathof Jesus, St John the Evangelist brought Mary to Ephesus, where she lived forthe last years of her life to escape persecution. The house was ruined by manyearthquakes and not discovered until dreams of a German Nun, later beatified,led to the site in 1951. The restored house has become a pilgrimage site andhas been visited by several Popes. We got there just after lunch before therest of the bus tours arrived. This would have been great had we toured rightaway but Murat gave us a lengthy history of the site while the buses disgorgedtheir passengers. That meant a line-up to enter the small house. Mostinteresting for me was a stone wall covered with bit of fabric and notes beggingfavours from Mary and God. One even asked that her parents stop fighting andlove each other. Several of the tourists added to the collection during ourvisit.

Columns from Temple of Artemis used in Isa Bey Mosque

Our last stop was the Isa Bey Camii (Mosque), built in 1375.Columns and stones from the ruins of Ephesus and the Temple of Artemis wereused to construct the building. Earthquakes destroyed one of the minarets anddamaged the rest of the mosque. It was restored in 1934 and is still inoperation today. The center court contained several gravestones withdecorations indicating the type of head dress the deceased wore.

And so ended our day tour. If I had it to do again I wouldstay in Selςukand take a taxi to Ephesus, rent an audio guide and tour at my leisure. Thereis a lot to see, even more than we managed in several hours.

To see photos on Picasa of Kusadasi and our tour of Ephesus, click the following and select Slide Show to view

https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/EphesusADayTourFromKusadasi?authuser=0&feat=directlink

Blue Cruise Idyll

2011-10-02T07:57:00.000-07:00

Saturday 1 Oct 2011

The sky is blue, the air is summer warm and the breeze is creating small wavelets on the sea. Twelve of us are sitting on deck, some like me with ourcameras, gazing at the sheer rocky hillsides that fall straight down to theMediterranean. We are on a four day, three night cruise on a sturdy 21 M woodengullet provided by V-Go, one of the many companies offering a ‘Blue Cruise’.Our crew of three, Captain Soner, cook Arif and all-purpose man Sascha, aGerman married to a Turkish woman, are busy making our breakfast and steering acareful course along the shoreline. We will be anchoring in a quiet bay wherewe will have breakfast, swim, and bask in the sun. Later we will visit a smallvillage where there are ruins and shop for souvenirs. This is the life. I couldextend this trip for several more days.

Ray and I were picked up at our guesthouse in Olympos fourdays ago. We gathered eight other tourists, along the way and drove about 1 ½hours along the coastal road to Demre AKA Kale where the cruise really begins. Twomore passengers arrived at the Marina soon after we arrived. Our crew of three,the Captain Soner, cook Arif and general helper Sascha, were on board ready tocater to our every demand.

Ray and I had a small cabin with a double bed & a singlebunk above, plus a WC with sink, toilet and shower that used the retractablesink faucet as a shower head. There was a second shower next to the ladder weused to get into the water to rinse off after swimming. At the bow werecomfortable lounges around a table and stairs to mattresses covering the roofover the kitchen and bridge, perfect for sunbathing or sleeping out under thestars. The stern was our dining and seating area. Canvas Bimini shades coveredboth the dining area and a second deck over the main cabin. Both areas got usedfor sleeping outside. I was the only one of the group to sleep in the comfortof our cabin.

We were quite a cosmopolitan group; Orla and John fromVancouver, Sharon and Trevor from Sydney, Australia, Libby and Brian from ChristChurch, New Zealand, Sara and Andreas from Italy, and Geoffrey and Justyne fromParis. We were soon fast friends and ready for whatever the cruise would offerus.

We were soon on our way to Simena, a small village along thecoast from Demre, where we docked and had lunch of salad, rice and baked beans.All our meals continued to be very good and well presented.

Lycian sarcophagus

Simena is on theroute of the Lycian Way, one of the best rated multi-day walks in the world. Wewill have to wait until another trip to Turkey to do at least a few days of theroute. Ray and I joined the others onshore to enjoy the view from the ruins ofa Roman Castle on the top of a hill. We wandered around the necropolis withLycian sarcophagus littering the side of the hill. There was even one halfsubmerged in the water by the marina.

Sunken City stairs leading nowhere

An earthquake in the 2^nd C AD caused a whole cityto sink beneath the sea and created the island opened a channel between Simenaand the new island of Kekova. It is now another World Heritage Site, accessibleonly by water. No docking, swimming, or diving is allowed and the onlyresidents are a few goats. From the water you can see foundations ofresidential buildings, wall fragments and stairways leading into the Sea. Itwas an eerie sight.

We sailed on to Old Woman’s Bay where we docked for thenight. We had time to swim but we couldn’t easily go ashore. There was no beachand the rocks lining the shore were rough and abrasive. Nevertheless the waterwas clear and inviting and the salt of the Mediterranean made us much morebuoyant than the fresh water lakes of home.

That was just our first day and the other 2 ½ were just asrelaxing and pleasant. The shoreline continued just as rugged and beautiful asthe first day. We pulled into numerous small bays to swim, some even with asmall crescent beach. Just across the bay from Kas is the tiny Greek Island ofMeis, isolated from the rest of Greece. At one point Kas was part of Greece,but eventually became part of Turkey. You can make a day trip from Kas to Meisjust to say you visited Greece; we didn’t.

Lion Tomb in Kas

We docked in Kas and got off to spend a few hours exploring.There was a recently renovated amphitheatre, almost all that remains of theancient Lycian town of Antiphellos, at the edge of town. Originally seating4000 spectators, it is still used for performances. A sarcophagus, called theLion Tomb for its four lion’s heads protruding from its sides, in the middle oftown, was from the same era. I did a little souvenir shopping in the shops nearthe tomb. We finished with a cooling drink in a dockside cafe, for the day washot, before returning to the cool breezes on the boat. Leaving Kas we passed asmall cove at the foot of a narrow gorge that is the cover photo of the latestedition of the Lonely Planet.

The Butterfly Valley is on every boat’s itinerary. The smallcove is hedged on either side by sheer cliffs hundreds of meters high. Thevalley boasts waterfalls that are worth exploring early in the season when snowcovers the mountain tops, otherwise the falls are reduced to trickles. Neitherwere the migrating tiger butterflies, for which the valley was named, inevidence. We just swam ashore carrying our sandals to walk on the pebble beach.We stopped to chat with a man who was spending several days camping on thebeach. You can rent a tent or a small, simple cabin, complete with mattress.The rental price included breakfast and dinner, which he assured us wereexcellent.

While we were at Butterfly Valley two paragliders landed onthe beach. They had taken off from the top of a 1960 M cliff reached by a 2hour drive up winding mountain roads. If you have nerves of steel andspectacular views of the Turkish coast is on your must-do list, then this isthe place to fulfill your dreams. I counted 15 paragliders in the air as wemotored along the coast past Ölüdeniz lagoon, another landingplace for the paragliders.

We headed to Blue Lagoon, a busy resort area where you canrent lounge chairs and beach umbrellas for the day. A man in a motorboatselling ice cream bars approached our boat as soon as we set anchor and waspleased to get a few customers both before and after our lunch. Several of usswam to shore to have a look at the resort, concluding it was pleasant but toobusy for our liking.

Our final stop of the day was to be St Nicholas Island,named for the holy man who was the inspiration for Santa Claus. Ruins of a 5^thC Lycian settlement cover the hilly island but no one of our group was inclinedto visit. We were all glad of a break from the multitude of Turkish ruins andthe pesky jetboats dangerously trolling for customers put us off. We were evenleery of swimming far from the boat. Our captain, Soner, made the decision tomove to a quieter cove instead of crowding in with the other boats anchoringfor the night. We all applauded his decision. We motored on to Seminlik Bay, aquiet place just a bit farther along the coast. It is also known as Tarzan’sBay because of a long knotted rope attached to a tree where we could swing intothe water. Andreas, a young Italian, was the only one who tried the rope thatevening but several of us, including me, gave it a try the next morning. It waslots of fun although we didn’t match the real Tarzan’s graceful ropemanoeuvres.

After two post-dinner games of Uno, we now have convertsamongst the boat passengers. When our cook Arif heard us mention the game, hequickly found a set of cards left by other passengers and joined our group.There were rule variations proposed and vetoed and lots of laughs. It was agood game to share with everyone.

After lunch the last day the crew actually put up a jib sailfor the final voyage to Fethiye harbour. The wind was stronger than theprevious days, perfect for demonstrating the traditional method of sailing. Wemade it into Fethiye harbour about 4 PM, and said our good-byes. The cruise wasover. The consensus was that we easily could have kept sailing for a few moredays. If given a chance we would all repeat the trip, maybe exploring more ofthe Turkish coast.

We met our driver who drove us to a hotel owned by the boatowner V-Go where we stayed the night in Fethiye before catching a bus Sunday forKusadasi. That is our home for the next week. We plan to do day trips toEphesus and other interesting places nearby.

To see photos on Picasa click the following and select Slide Show to view

https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/CruisingTheTurkishMed?authuser=0&feat=directlink

Olympos Interlude

2011-09-27T10:53:00.000-07:00

27 Sept 2011

Olympos is really nothing but a pebble beach cove shelteringthe ruins of an ancient settlement dating from before Roman times. It now alsoincludes a string of backpacker pensions. Rather than spend the night in thebig city of Antalya, we were advised to stay in Olympos where we would bepicked up for a four day, three night cruise along the Mediterranean coast toFethiye. It sounded great. We reserved a room in a pension for two nights.

Per usual our flight from Cappadocia to Antalya was notwithout problems. We knew the connection between our first flight back toIstanbul and the connecting flight to Antalya on the Mediterranean was tight.All it needed to give problems was a 10 minute delay leaving Cappadocia.Luckily the Turkish Airline was aware of our and another couple from Vancouver’ssituation and changed all our seats to the second row to give us a head startoff the plane. When we arrived after sitting on the tarmac waiting for adocking berth, the airline staff even let us skip the extra security by openingthe door directly into the departure lounge. We all ran to the gate where ournext flight left from and made it with 15 minutes to spare, not quite as closeas our flight from Istanbul to Cappadocia.

The next problem occurred when we reached Antalya but ourluggage did not. Once again Turkish Airlines came through. They tracked theluggage for all four of us and were able to confirm that the next flight,arriving in just over an hour, would have our luggage. We all stayed in theairport until the next flight arrived and so did our bags. Halleluja!

After retrieving our bags we boarded a city bus to take usto the Otogar, the city bus station, where we got a minibus headed for Olympos.The route was very scenic, first along the coast, lined with large resorts,then into the pine forested mountains that provide a protective backdrop forAntalya and the coast. By late afternoon we were let off at a tea house on themain highway, looking far down a valley to Olympos. Another minibus drove us 9km down the steep hills to the backpackers haven, one of a string beside a drystream in a narrow gorge leading to the sea. The valley is protected fromdevelopment of large resorts due to the fragile environment. Our home for thenext two nights is a wooden cabin, very compact (i.e. small), including with anequally compact bathroom. There is a large common area with picnic tables andcovered pavilions with cushioned seating where everyone relaxes. Dinner, abuffet of good Turkish dishes, and breakfast are included and very welcome.

Pieces of former Olympos temples

We spent our spare day washing clothes and visiting theOlympos ruins. Olympos was an important Lycian port city in the 2^ndC BC, but did not last. The Romans revived the settlement in the 1^stC AD until pirate attacks in the 3^rd C AD ruined those plans. TheVenetians and Genovese sailors tried their hand at establishing a settlement inthe Middle Ages but that only lasted until the 15^th C when the sitewas once again abandoned. There has been some reconstruction of the ruins in2000-2005 but the majority remain in the condition in which they wereuncovered. Some of the ruins were only discovered in 1990. There were Romantombs and temples, Christian churches and the remains of houses and old Venetianfortresses guarding the entrance to the gorge. One of the larger tombs wasbuilt for a well connected Roman citizen. It proclaimed that the site was forhis family alone and anyone placing a body there, not from his family, wasliable to a large fine, payable to the state. Another tomb, close to the beach,marked the final resting spot of a noted mariner. I loved the epitaph:

“This ship is entered and anchored at the last port, for notto go out any more
Because there is no more benefit from the wind nor from thedaylight.
After leaving the morning twilight the Captain Eudemos,
Buried there his short-lived ship like a broken wave.”

We walked on to the beach, which is only accessed by walkingthrough the Olympos ruins.If you are staying for more than one day, you buy aweekly pass for the ruins, which costs only 2 TL more than the 3 TL requiredfor a day pass. A long crescent of pebbly beach was the chosen spot forsunbathers while a few enjoyed the warm sea waters. A few sail boats, some ofwhich were on a tourist day tour, were anchored outside the swimming area. Wewalked a bit on the beach but hadn’t brought our swim suits as we areanticipating lots of good swimming from the boat the next four days.

To see photos on Picasa click the following and select Slide Show to view them
https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/OlymposTurkeyRuinsAndBackpackersBeach?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCI6y56nk2ZbtBg&feat=directlink

Cappadocia; Walks and Museums

2011-09-27T07:56:00.000-07:00

25 Sept 2011

Cappadocia, the land of fairy chimneys and sculpturedhilltops is full of ancient cave homes and churches carved into the hills butit is also perfect for our favourite activity, hiking. Cappadocia is a 1000 mhigh plateau in the center of Turkey. An eruption of Mt Erciyes 2,000 years agocreated huge lava flows that carved valleys and layers of ash that formedsoft-rock that was eroded by the wind and water into pillars and minaret-likeforms, the “fairy chimneys”. As people arrived in the area they carved homesinto the soft rock, keeping their dwellings cool in summer and not so cold inthe winter. Christianity arrived in Turkey with the first apostles and convertsestablished monasteries and churches in this remote area. Göreme, our base for our visit,became a monastic center between 300-1200 AD.

We started our walks by exploring the village of Göreme itself, where many of therock pillars and hillsides have been converted into hotels featuring caverooms. We chose to stay in the pleasant Köse Pension, owned by a Scottish woman and her Turkish husband,with windows in regular rooms. There was a nice pool outside that we did notuse as we were too busy hiking the valleys and by the time the sun disappearedbehind the hills in late afternoon the temperature had dropped markedly fromthe highs of 20+ C during the mid-day.

Our walks started right from our hotel. We often felt as ifwe had the valleys to ourselves, encountering other hikers only occasionally. Wehad a very basic map with dotted lines indicated paths and there were somearrows pointing the way and we could see well-worn paths in the valleys fromvantage points on top of the hills so we didn’t get lost. The Rose and Red Valleywalk was our favourite. There were orchards of apple, peach, plum and peartrees and small plots of Grape vines, tomatoes, squash and other vegetable,still maintained by the local people, to pass through in the valleys. Weclimbed up the strange rock formations to explore caves where people lived andworshiped. Cave churches and chapels, dating from 9^th to 11th C,were decorated with simple red patterns and a few had beautiful Byzantinepainted Frescoes on the interior walls.

A trail leads through the Pigeon Valley, named for thedovecotes, or pigeon houses carved into the rock faces. Built in the 19^thand 20^th century, the pigeon droppings were gathered and used asrich fertilizer for the fields and orchards that thrive to this day. Our goalwas the hilltop fortress town of Uςhisar,just 2-3 km from Göreme, asthe crow flies. We had a little more trouble finding the correct route thanthrough the Rose Valley. We weren’t the only ones having trouble, but eachperson we encountered could help us or we could help them find the best route.Besides, as Ray said, we were “exploringnew territory”. Part of the route was through tunnels carved through the hills,either naturally or by previous generations. Eventually we found ourselves in adeep gorge, bordered on either side by high cliffs with capped in white stone.

At the end of the gorge was Uςhisar. We walked up the steep streets to the entrance to aRoman era castle, complete with corridors and rooms carved into the hill. Wewalked through the lower levels, the only ones open to the public, and climbedstairways leading all the way to the peak, another 1000 m from the plateaufloor. From there Cappadocia was laid before us. We could see Göreme in the distance as well asother towns in the valleys and hills surrounding Uςhisar.

View from Uςhisar street

After a lentil soup lunch, a speciality of the region, wehiked back to Göreme. Ofcourse, we couldn’t take the exact route we had taken earlier. Ray’s GPS savedus a few times from continuing in the wrong direction but we eventually foundourselves on a familiar path and made it back to Göreme, still in good spirits.

Everybody, except us, goes for a balloon ride in the morningbefore breakfast to see the wonderful topography from a different perspective.We could hear the whoosh of the flames heating the air in the balloons urging themupwards. I got out at 7 AM one morning to see scores of them rising above Göreme. Another fellow staying atour place went out to see the balloons take off. He counted 75 balloons thatmorning. We were told an average of 1000 tourists each day take to the air. Ifonly it weren’t so far above our meagre budget...

There is more to see in Cappadocia than just the area aroundGöreme. We decided that aninexpensive Day Tour was the most convenient way to explore. We joined 9 othersin a minivan and set off with our pleasant guide for a busy day, starting witha stop at a viewpoint above Göreme,with a good view of the Pigeon Valley. We continued on to Selime, at thenorthern end of the Ihlara Gorge, where we climbed a small hill to explore aByzantine era cave monastery, with its series of large rooms, a refectory and kitchen,plus several chapels, some with lovely painted frescoes depicting Jesus andother Biblical figures.

Ihlara Gorge

We had a hike for an hour alongside a river, flanked by wildblackberries and pistachio and other fruit trees, in the base of the narrow IhlaraGorge. Sheer cliffs on either side provided the perfect hiding place andretreat for Byzantine monks and their followers. Christians were sought out andpersecuted by the Persians, Arabic armies and others. The monks carved theirhomes and chapels high up on the cliffs, some accessible only by rope laddersthat could be pulled up whenever dust stirred up by approaching invaders wasspotted.

The highlight of our day was exploring Derinkuyu, an undergroundcity, built to provide protection from Persian and Arabic armies who roamed the area in the 6^thand 7^th centuries, seeking out the Christian infidels. The citycovered seven levels, linked by low, narrow corridors. An air shaft, disguisedas a well, provided fresh air for the complex. Stables and guards were on thetop level while the residents inhabited the more inaccessible lower levels. Upto 10,000 people lived in the complex for several months at a time. It musthave been a very harrowing existence.

Our last stop of the day was to a large jewellery shop wherewe watched a craftsman cut a piece of onyx and polish it into a perfect eggshape. Our guide from the shop displayed the different types of onyx andturquoise found in the area before letting us loose in their store. We justbrowsed the selection but were not tempted to buy any expensive souvenirs.Before boarding our bus we snapped photos of a pigeon house, as large as aresort hotel, carved into the cliff across from the jewellery shop. It had beena rewarding day for everyone.

I crossed another World Heritage site off my Life List. TheGöreme Open Air Museum wasjust a brisk 1 km uphill from KösePension. As I walked up in the late afternoon following our walk to Uchisar, atleast six big tour buses passed me. I had thought the museum would be less busyin the afternoon after the morning tour bus rush but it remained popular allday long. I was determined to visit the site and this was my last chance so Icontinued on. I entered an amphitheatre ringed by conical rocks pockmarked withcarved out caves built by Byzantine monks as a monastery. The monastery becamean important pilgrimage site in the 17^th c. One large cone shapedrock near the entrance had been fashioned into a convent for visiting nuns.Every other rock face contained at least one chapel, several covered withintricate, painted frescoes depicting the life of Jesus and other biblestories, the perfect media for instructing an illiterate population in thestories of Christianity. Even though two of the large church caves were closedfor renovations and one other was too jammed with a large tour group for me tobrave, the Museum was worth the visit, if just for the frescoes and otherdecorations alone.

To see photos on Picasa, which are separated into two parts, click one of the following and select Slide Show to see them

Walks

https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/CappadociaTurkeyWalks?authuser=0&feat=directlink

Day Tour and open Air Museum

https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/CappadociaTurkeyDayTourOpenAirMuseum?authuser=0&feat=directlink

Istanbul Day 3 Museums and Moving On

2011-09-22T11:16:00.000-07:00

21 Sept 2011

If you tell me that Paris traffic is bad, or say you havebeen caught in traffic jams in New York, or London, England, or even Toronto,you haven’t seen anything until you have experienced Istanbul at rush hour.

Our flight from Istanbul to Kayseri, in the Cappadociaregion, left at 9 PM from Sabiha Görςen Airport, 50 km E of thecity. We had two choices to get to the airport. We could either take aninexpensive 1 ½ hour shuttle bus ride leaving at 3:30 PM. That would mean await of 3 hours at the airport before we could check in at 8 PM. Thealternative was a much more expensive but shorter private taxi. That is what webooked. Since we would be leaving near rush hour we were advised to allow 2hours, instead of 1 hour, to get to the airport. Our driver Emir arrived at 6PM in his van. Emir drove up and down narrow back streets to get out of thecrowded Sultanahmet district heading for the Galata Bridge and EasternIstanbul. That was bad enough but it didn’t hold a candle to the absolute gridlock we experienced on the other side. There must have been a problem before wewere caught in the traffic but we were stuck with no avenue of escape.

Emir called his company to find out what was going on.Nobody knew. He called Turkish Airlines for us and found out our plane was ontime and if we didn’t get there by 8:15 we would lose the booking and have tofind another flight on our own. Finally they relented and said we had until8:30 to reach the check-in counter. At 8 PM we reached a less busy highway andstill had 30 km to go. Emir said he was going to try to get there by 8:30. Heput on the flashers and took a restricted lane, passing all the other cars. Hewove expertly in and out of lanes. It started to rain but we kept on. He turnedoff the main highway at 8:30 and started to slide on the wet pavement. We heldon and he corrected in time to make the last sprint to the departure door. Itwas 8:35. Emir got out, leaving me to guard the taxi, while he and Ray raninside to persuade the airline to allow us to board the flight. Haleleuja!Turkish Airlines came through. An employee came outside and collected me andour luggage and we sprinted through security. Ray’s bag couldn’t go on as handluggage as the trusty Swiss Army knife was inside. All my luggage became carryon. We boarded the plane with 10 minutes to spare. Ray said it took 10 yearsoff his life. Emir deserved accolades and a big tip, but that will have to waituntil we return.

And to think we thought we had an easy day. At least it startedwell. Ray got a haircut in the morning while I visited Turkey’s first museum, theArchaeological Museum. The collection is so vast that it becomes brain overloadattempting to see everything. My favourites were the incredible detail onreliefs decorating doors and sarcophagus and the lifelike detail on the laterstatues of both real people and mythical men and women. Anyone with moreexperience with archaeology would have a field day exploring the itemscollected from numerous sites around Turkey and surrounding countries. I spentmore than an hour browsing the exhibits and I didn’t even finish the mainbuilding let alone get to the two additional buildings on the site.

Another must-do lunch is to sample Turkish Kebaps i.e. Shishkebabs or Donair Kebabs. A little restaurant around the corner from the Museumhad outdoor tables and very tasty kebabs. We sat, relaxed, enjoyed our meal andgot ready for our next activity.

Aya Sofya AKA Hagia Sophia is crowded with tour groups inthe morning. Even the lineups to buy tickets are daunting. At 1:30 PM we could walk right in. We rented audio guidesand wandered around for almost two hours. We took lots of photos of thebeautiful mosaics and frescoes, admired the architecture and learned more ofthe history of Istanbul. Aya Sofya started life as the greatest church inChristendom when it was built by Emperor Justinian in 537 AD. Mehmet theConqueror converted the church to a mosque 1453 and it stayed that way until1935 when Ataturk proclaimed it a museum. Millions of admirers have toured thecomplex since then, including Ray and me. It lived up to its name as one of thegreatest religious buildings in the world.

To see photos of Day 3 click the following and Select "Slide Show" to view the photos.

To see photos of the rest of our trip, Click "Jeanne & Ray Burnham" at the top left to return to the list of selections available. Select one photo group to view.

https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/IstanbulDay3MuseumsAndMovingOn?authuser=0&authkey=Gv1sRgCMix8bPnkOiuxQE&feat=directlink

Istanbul Turkey Day 2 Bazaars and Boats

2011-09-22T10:58:00.000-07:00

20 Sept 2011

I wasn’t going to buy any souvenirs but the selectionavailable in the Grand Bazaar changed my mind. We followed a walking tour fromLonely Planet to find our way there and not get lost in the sprawling marketplace. We passed an ancient column, known as Cemberlitas, erected by EmperorConstantine to celebrate the designation of Constantinople as the capital ofthe Roman Empire in 330 AD.

The Bazaar was built by Mehmet the Conqueror in the mid 15^thC as small masonry covered market in the heart of the Old City. A system ofgates and doors were designed so that the complex could be locked up at night.Today there are 3000 shops inside and another 1500 shops outside selling carpets,ceramics, silverware, copperware, lamps, leather goods, clothing...you name it.We wandered past marble fountains still used by locals to wash their hands andface, admiring the selection in the small crowded shops. When I stopped to lookat one piece of embroidered cloth and asked if the shop owner had more, he led usto his cousin’s shop on another corridor. Of course the cousin, being a goodsalesman, was only too pleased to oblige. How could I resist expanding mycollection of fabric art. His bargaining was far better than mine but I ampleased with my table runner cum wall hanging.

The Spice Market is always a favourite of ours and it wasjust a short walk from the Grand Bazaar. Besides colourful spices, shops sellnuts, dried fruit, Turkish Delight candies.

Fish Sandwich boat

Right across the road from theSpice Market gate is the Galata Bridge. We headed for the fabled bobbing boatsdishing out fish sandwiches as fast as they could. For 5 TL ($2) we had a largefillet of fish placed between fresh crusty bread with lots of lettuce andonion. We ate it sitting on stools at a small table. It was delicious.

The afternoon seemed made for a ride on a ferry. Tour boatsand ferries leave from the Eminönü terminal beside the bridge takinglocals and tourists into the Golden Horn waterway that leads to the Sea ofMarmara and the Bosphorus. We just chose one that was ready to head off. For 2TL we had a 20 minute ride to Üsküdar port on the quieter Easternsection. We had to look at our maps to figure out where we were. There was anice park along the shoreline, but not much else of interest. We just wanderedaround for a while and took the next ferry back to our starting point andwalked back to our guesthouse. Next time here we will take a ferry to anotherterminal and explore another district.

We had to go to at least one Whirling Dervish performance.The easiest choice was Cafe Meşalenext to the Arasta Bazaar. Tourists come to Cafe Meşale to sample a hookah water pipe and to watch a dervishperform a sema, used as a meditativeceremony that represents union with god. We didn’t try the hookah but the foodwas good and the sema wasinteresting. I don’t think a whole evening of whirling dervishes will be on ouritinerary.

To see photos of Day 3 click the following and Select "Slide Show" to view the photos.

To see photos of the rest of our trip, Click "Jeanne & Ray Burnham" at the top left to return to the list of selections available. Select one photo group to view.

https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/IstanbulDay2BazaarsAndBoats?authuser=0&feat=directlink

Istanbul Turkey, Day 1, A Palace, Mosque & Cistern

2011-09-20T23:59:00.000-07:00

Monday 19 Sept 2011

Air travel used to be exciting. Now it gets you to yourdestination faster but it involves long security lines, extended waits betweenflights and frequent delays. Nevertheless it beats overnight bus rides ortrains without comfortable berths, so we take the good with the bad. Wecouldn’t think of any reason to stop along the way from Harlech to Manchesterairport with less than perfect weather, so we arrived with more time to sparethan anyone would need. The plane was late anyway but the flight was short anduneventful. Our shuttle to the simple Heathrow hotel we had chosen came when wecalled and the guesthouse staff was friendly. They directed us to the local pubwhere we shared seats with a friendly British foursome on a weekend away.

Our flight the next morning to Istanbul was scheduled for7:10 AM, which means you have to be at the airport at the ungodly hourly of 5AM. It was too early for the hotel shuttle but they were able to deliver a goodtake away breakfast at 4 AM and a free public bus was available across the roaddirect to our terminal in time for our check in. Ray and I, along with 95% ofthe other passengers snoozed our way to Istanbul, making up for the early wakeupcall; our drive to our hotel was there to meet us and we met with a friendlywelcome at Marmara Guesthouse. What more can you ask?

View from Marmara terrace

Marmara Guesthouse, in the Sultanahmet district, is run by aTurkish family. We have a compact room, with an ensuite and small balcony,looking out to another hotel. The pluses are breakfast on the roof top terrace,tea and coffee any time of day, inexpensive beer and good travel advice. Thereare lots of restaurants in the area to choose from and we are just a short walkfrom most of the main. We are very comfortable.

One of our favourite menu choices is Mezes, Turkish Tapas.Twice we have shared a large plate of appetizer type foods displayed in glasscases in Arasta Bazaar, just below the Blue Mosque. They were delicious. Wehave a new Best Friend in one of the touts enticing customers to a restauranton our walking path. We finally succumbed and were both pleased with ourTurkish selections. Now we get a greeting and a hug whenever we pass.

Speaking of touts, they are all over the area, especiallyencouraging us to visit their carpet shop or look at their ceramics. So far weare on good terms. We politely say we are not in the market and they seem tounderstand and wish us a good day. It has not been an aggressive hard sell,although there are so many shops we wonder how they ever get enough sales tomake a living.

Fellow travellers told us they had mistakenly thought thatSeptember was off-season for Turkey. It is not. It is still a major stop forincreasing large cruise ships and bus tours. All take in the Topkapi Palace. Sodid we. There were line-ups at each of the ticket booths but we managed toavoid the worst crushes of people. The attendant selling audio guides advisedus to visit the Harem first and he was right. We spent over three hours on thesite and were glad we had come.

Imperial Gate to Topkapi Palace

Mehmet the Conqueror built Topkapi in 1453 and subsequentsultans occupied the compound until 1839, after which Sultans built lavish Europeanstyle palaces on the Bosphorus Sea. The public is allowed to see only a smallnumber of the sprawling palace buildings, but it was more than enough for us.

Muslim men are allowed four wives under Islamic law and sultanscould have as many concubines as they could support. Topkapi Palace housedbetween 300 and 500 concubines in the harem. As Islamic law forbids theenslavement of Muslims, all the girls were foreign born, bought as slaves orpresented as gifts from nobles. The young girls were schooled in Islamic andTurkish culture, especially music and dance, and then worked their way up theranks of the household hierarchy, hoping to become a favourite of the sultan.The harem was more than the women’s quarters, it was actually the Imperialfamily quarters so the rooms were numerous and beautifully decorated. Iespecially loved the beautiful mosaics and decorated domed ceilings in therooms.

We wandered through the rest of the buildings on the Palacegrounds, admiring the many gardens, pavilions and terraces with views over theSea of Marmara. We marvelled over the jewels and other antiquities and learnedabout Turkey’s illustrious past. It was time well spent.

Sultanahmet Park, between the Blue Mosque and Aya Sofya, isa popular place for locals, especially late in the day. Vendors sell roastedcorn, and fresh squeezed pomegranate or orange juice. People stop to chat andsit on the rows of benches. We happened upon a free concert of traditionalTurkish music played by men dressed in period costume at one end of the park latein the afternoon. A man beat enthusiastically on a big drum, another played aneastern style wind instrument and two men sang the melody. It looked as ifdancers were waiting for their turn to perform but we left before they came onstage. We were on our way to visit the Basilica Cistern.

Columns in Cistern

The cistern was built by the Byzantine Emperor Justinian in532 beneath Stoa Basilica, a large public square, to supply the Great Palace ofConstantinople and surrounding buildings. The cistern is 65 M wide by 143 Mlong and once held 80,000 cu m of water fed by aqueducts from the Belgradeforest, 19 km north of the city. The roof is supported by 336 columns withcarved capitals from ruined buildings, arranged in 12 rows with tiled domesbetween each group of four domes. The cistern was forgotten until it wasrediscovered in 1535 and has been restored three times since then. We walked throughthe dimly lit cistern on raised wooden platforms, beneath which swam fish clearly visiblein the clear waters. One platform led by the Teardrop Column decorated with hen’seyes, considered “Good Luck”, each dripping a tear. The tears pay homage to thehundreds of slaves who died during the construction of the cistern. Two MedusaHeads act as bases for columns. One lies upside down while the other rests onits side. Why they were placed that wayis a subject of controversy.

Inside the Blue Mosque

The first thing you notice when you enter the Blue Mosque isthe smell of feet. The Muslims are fastidious about washing before prayers soit must be the thousands of tourists who have removed their shoes beforewalking on the carpets that cover the floor area. The Blue Mosque, named forthe blue tiles that decorate the walls and the domed ceiling, was constructed from1606-1616 by Sultan Ahmet I as a rival to the nearby Aya Sofya. Most peopleprefer the Aya Sofya, but the Blue Mosque is still impressive. The public ispermitted to visit the Blue Mosque between official prayer times and allowed toadmire the interior behind a low fence separating the men’s prayer area fromthe public. Muslim women were relegated to a much smaller area at the rear ofthe mosque. Women have to cover their heads to enter but I noticed many takingoff their scarves as soon as they got inside. I did too for the requisitepicture taking.

We have two more days to explore the sights of Istanbul. Itwill not be enough time to see everything so we have reserved more time for ourreturn in October.

To see photos of Day 3 click the following and Select "Slide Show" to view the photos.

To see photos of the rest of our trip, Click "Jeanne & Ray Burnham" at the top left to return to the list of selections available. Select one photo group to view.

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Welsh Rarebits

2011-09-18T07:52:00.000-07:00

18 Sept 2011

What can be more Welsh than a Men’s Choir? What about WelshCheddar Cheese on toast? Learning to pronounce those unpronounceable Welshplace names or learning about the ongoing struggle for political and linguisticindependence, not to mention walking the thousands of trails over thecountryside? We managed all that andmore in our much too short ten days in Wales.

Caernavon was the first town we noticed that all the localsdid truly prefer to speak Welsh amongst themselves, but they always switchedwillingly to English when we asked a question. I don’t think I ever learned toproperly pronounce place names. How do you pronounce Betws Y Coed, and whatdoes it mean? I called it Betty’s a Co-ed? I hope now Welsh person heard me massacretheir language. Lamb stew and Shepherd’s pie were on our menus. We ate Welshcheddar for snacks and in sandwiches, used leeks, the national flower of Wales,instead of onions in all our dinners and had a feast of Fish and Chips for ourlast meal.

Splitting Slate

History was made real for us on a visit to the LlechweddCaverns Slate Mine. We took both of the tours offered, one on a narrow gaugerailway on the same tracks used to haul huge slabs of slate from the depths ofthe mine to be split into roof tiles. Our guide directed us to three differentcaverns where tableaux with recorded voices told the story of miners in 1860. Ateam of four family members, two men inside quarrying the slate and two men outsidesplitting the stone, worked an individual cavern. Few of the men survived past45, laid low by silicosis. We also descended 400 ft into caverns used in 1846and walked the low, narrow corridors from one cavern to another. It was a goodthing we all wore hard hats.

Children with Torches

We read all the informative panels in the castles to learnthe history of the Welsh in their struggle to gain independence from theBritish. Friday night after supper several of us walked to Harlech castle towatch the first ever, in Harlech, story of Olwain Glyndwr. He was the lastnative Welshman to hold the title of Prince of wales. Beginning in 1400 he leda revolt against the British and managed to keep control of Harlech Castle from1404-1409 before ultimately being defeatd. The townspeople, some in periodcostumes, assembled at Coleg Harlech, who own Crown Lodge where we stayed, andwalked along the beach by torchlight following men acting the parts of Olwainand his men. At the castle, some of Olwain’s soldiers mounted the lower levelof ramparts where a sound and light show told their story. Olwain and hiscaptains appeared on the upper ramparts to proclaim their victory. Thetownspeople, joined by us and other tourists, sang and waved their torchescheering on the victory. It was very moving and a fun history lesson foreveryone.

David Andrews found out there was a free practise sessionThursday evening of Cor Y Brythoniaid, one of the best Welsh Men’s Choirs inthe area. Several of us drove to Blaenau Ffestiniog, a town just 1 mile fromthe Slate Mines we had visited the day before. The performance, eveninterrupted by their capable director, John Eifion, to repeat a passage thatwasn’t quite perfect, was superb. The choir consisted of about 40 men, agedfrom 20 something to over 70. They all obviously enjoyed the session, wecertainly did. The choir has toured several countries, made recordings and waspractising for a new CD to be recorded the following week. The evening startedwith a Welsh Hymn, continued with some Folk Tunes we recognized as well as aclassical number or two and ended with a rousing chorus of The Battle Hymn ofthe Republic. We made up the majority of the audience that night and we werewarmly received. Several men came to talk to us and thank us for coming.Suzanne won the 50-50 draw that we all entered that night. She put her winningsback in the pot marked for support of the choir. They were worth it. Look outfor their YouTube rendition of the Mansions of the Lord at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8uNiquukB0Y.

Afon Y Glyn walk

Every day but one, when we visited the Slate Mine and took the scenic route over the Pass of Llamberis, past Mt Snowdon, the Carvers, Ray and I, plus a rotatingselection of the others, set out on a walk in the countryside. Ray was ourguide on half-day walks of about 8 km, using a guide book we bought at thelocal information center. We walked straight from our Lodge to follow excellentroutes through sheep paddocks, over ancient styles and up bare hills for theview. The warmest day found us in the woods alongside the Afon Y Glyn, a narrow valley with a rushing stream, passingthrough small hamlets. The routes were well marked and varied enough to keep uscoming back for another one.

We did make one remote start. Friday five of us, theCarvers, Burnhams and Cathy Pawley, drove to the small town of Aberdaron at thewestern tip of the Lleyn Peninsula, which juts 25 miles in to the Irish Seabetween Caernarvon and Portmadog. Anancient pilgrimage route stretches around the peninsula, from church to church,ending in Aberdaron where the pilgrims boarded boats for a dangerous crossingto Bardsey Island, their final destination. In the middle ages voyages werelong, perilous and costly so the Pope decreed that three pilgrimages to BardseyIsland equalled one pilgrimage to Rome. Thousands took up the challenge. Thegraveyards on land and on the island are full of those pilgrims, some of whomcame hoping to be cured of an illness, who didn’t live to return home.

We started our walk in Aberdaron, passing by Y Gegin Fawr (The Big Kitchen), where meals have been served since 1300, to St Hywyn’s Church, the last church before the boat ride. The original chapel was builtin 1100 and a second half added 400 years later. I don’t think we said enoughprayers there to protect us on our walk around the tip of the peninsula. Westarted off along the beach, climbed to the top of the cliffs overlooking thewater and made our way along a well worn path to the tip of the peninsula. Thewind was not as strong as the first days in Harlech but was enough to detersome fishermen we met at a small cove along the way. They had intended to taketheir large boat out but thought better of it when they looked at the swell andthe deteriorating weather. We should have paid more attention too.

Bardsey Island view

At the tip we got our first glimpse of Bardsey Island andtook the requisite photos of our happy group. As soon as we started on thereturn route a little inland it started to rain. Soon the light rain becametorrents of water, soaking all of us. Claudia and Neil managed to put on theirrain pants but the rest of us didn’t have any with us and there was no shelterto be found. The rain ran down our waterproof jackets, soaked our long pantsand filled our boots. We had no choice but to carry on, just as the Kiwis inNew Zealand do, wet feet and all. Needless to say the return trip was a lotfaster than the first half. We just walked the country roads right back toAberdaron. The rain had stopped on the way back but I was cold. I stopped in asmall cafe and had a hot pot of tea to warm me while the others ate theirsandwiches outside the church. After finishing my tea I went inside one of thevillage Inns where the Andrews, Dunphys and Janet Schom were snug and warm,eating a great lunch after having toured the peninsula by car.

St Beuno's Church

Feeling revived after my hot tea and a sandwich, Ray, andCathy and I took a slightly longer trip back to Harlech. We stopped to see thelittle chapel of St Beuno in the village of Pistyll on the north coast. StBeuno, who died in 640 AD, was as important a religious figure to the NorthernWelsh as St David was to the Southern Welsh. The chapel was a hospice for thesick and infirm. One window near the altar was sited so that lepers could seethe service without entering. We entered the chapel to the pleasant smell ofherbs and straw, strewn over the chapel floor to honour the harvest season.

Borth Y Gest

Our last stop of the day was just outside Portmadog to visitthe small fishing village of Borth Y Gest, the childhood home of our friendKathy Greiner. We drove by a row of homes facing the small harbour, painted ingay colours for a filming several years ago for a series on the Welsh language.We found Kathy’s house on a terrace just above the main street and took a photoof her previous home for her.

Noweveryone has gone their separate ways, some continuing to tour, a few to returnhome. We all look forward to our next holiday together. Ray and I are in Istanbul,having arrived from Heathrow this afternoon, and are now in Marmara Hotel, veryclose to the Blue Mosque. We will be listening to the call to prayer several times a day. It was 31 C when we arrived, summer once more. We willnot be wearing our woollies here!

To see photos on Picasa, click the following and select Slide Show to see the photos

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Crown Lodge Arrival, Harlech, Wales

2011-09-14T09:07:00.000-07:00

Crown Lodge, Harlech, Wales

13 Sept 2011

“This is the worst weather we have ever experienced in allour years of hiking in Wales” said a couple from Yorkshire we met on a day walkover the hills above Harlech. High winds and rain, brought on by the remains of a hurricane had been the norm since we arrived Saturday. Hiking Mt Snowdon was not anoption, not that we had seriously considered this challenging climb. Short daywalks were more sensible until the weather cleared.

Luckily we were snug and warm in Crown Lodge. The largestone house was the original home of Coleg Harlech. When larger quarters forthe expanding school were obtained, Crown Lodge was turned into a residence forattendees of seminars. We were able to rent the building for a week for a veryreasonable price when the Coleg didn’t need it. We were all pleasantlysurprised to find our accommodation well above the basic level we had expected.There were eight large double rooms with ensuite bathrooms for the sevencouples to choose from and Janet Schom took a single room with a gorgeous viewtowards the Irish Sea. We had a comfortable sitting room for our pre-dinnersnacks and the kitchen had room for all 15 of us to eat together.

By 4:30 that afternoon our group of Ray and I, David andSuzanne Andrews, Claudia and Neil Carver, Marg and Jack Dunphy, Ginny and JimGalway, Pat and Bruce Marshall, Cathy and Bill Pawley and Janet Schom, had all arrived.All the women had graduated from Bishop’s University together and two of thehusbands had met their wives there. We were to spend the next week together;exploring the area and enjoying cooperatively prepared meals together. Claudia, Neil , Ray and I were the cooks thefirst night. We had bought ingredients to make Ray’s signature fish chowder anda green salad plus we had fresh pears provided by the owner of a B&B wherePat and Bruce stayed the previous night. We only had to add a few melted darkchocolate bars for a perfect desert. Dinner that night was a happy, noisyaffair, aided by quantities of wine, beer and cider, as we all caught up on ourlives. I have to say that the standard we set for meals has been met andexceeded since then.

The rain stopped long enough the next morning for us toexplore the town of Harlech and vicinity. With Ray as our guide several of usset off on a short hike across the dunes, a wildflower sanctuary owned by StDavid’s Golf Club, that cover the area between Harlech Castle and the Sea. Itwas much too windy to hike along the shore so we stuck to the shelter of thedunes. Later in the day we investigated some of the streets in the upper partof Harlech, in preparation for a longer hike on Monday. Labelled the AncientStyles Walk, we hiked across sheep paddocks, climbed styles over dry stonewalls and held onto our hats at the higher open areas. At least we avoided therains. There were so many walking paths in the vicinity around Harlech, ourappetite for more walks was whetted. There were more styles to climb and morepastures to cross to reach a high point with views of the Irish Sea, HarlechCastle and the Snowdon Mountains.

Pat, Bruce and I spent an afternoon at Harlech Castle. Itisn’t the largest of Edward I castles in Wales but it has the distinction of withstanda seven year siege before falling to the English during the War of the Roses. Builtusing almost 1,000 English, French and Italian workers between 1283 and 1295 onhigh cliffs overlooking the Irish Sea, it is a formidable fortress. It changedhands between the Welsh and the English several times until it was conquered bythe less defended land side and left in ruins during the Civil War in 1647.

A few of the others had visited Harlech Castle Sunday butthe high winds had forced the closure of the castle that afternoon until ourvisit on Tuesday. The winds were still high when we visited, especially on thesouth facing rampart. We three crouched down beside the rampart wall and madeit to a more protected side holding on to a convenient railing. We admired theview over the dunes facing the sea. When the castle was built a 200 ft staircaseled from the castle to access to the sea. Now the castle appears marooned aschanging weather conditions over the last two centuries have crated sand dunesstretching ½ mile to the coast. The land is now home to St David’s Golf Cluband walking paths we explored the previous Sunday.

Others in our group have traveled to Portmeirion, Chester,Caernarfon and followed scenic routes through Snowdonia National Park. Everyonehas returned with enthusiastic reports of their excursions.

To view more photos of Harlech and our first hikes in the hills, click the following and select Slide Show to view the photos
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Caernarfon to Harlech

2011-09-12T09:29:00.000-07:00

10 Sept 2011

Inside Caernarfon Castle

Caernarfon Castle, on the banks of the River Seiont, isnothing to be trifled with. Edward I built his massive stone fortress towithstand attacks from the marauding Welsh and as a suitable home for the Headof England whenever he visited Wales. In fact, the son of Edward I was born inCaernarfon Castle in 1284 and Prince Charles was invested as the Prince ofWales in the castle in 1969.

Now a World heritage Site, the castle is certainlyimpressive. We climbed to the top of two towers for the view and read thehistory of the castle in the excellent presentation room in the Eagle Tower. Wehad just an hour to tour and I wished we had more time. Instead we did agrocery shopping in the large Morrison Grocery and headed south through theSnowdonia.

We chose the more scenic route to Harlech right past thebase of Mt Snowdon, the highest mountain in Wales, rather than the more directroute. It wasn’t a day for hiking. The clouds were low over the mountainstotally obscuring the top and the few hikers we saw were soaked from the rain.Luckily the rain stopped long enough for us to stop and take a photo of thenarrow-gauge Welsh Highland Railway pass by one of the craggy peaks next to theroad.

Soon we were in Harlech where we met up with six of ourgroup who had arrived before us. The time for renewing our acquaintance withour friends had begun.

To see photos of Caernarfon in Picasa click the following, then select Slide Show to view them all

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Touring Anglesey

2011-09-09T09:48:00.000-07:00

Friday 9 Sept 2011

Following maps is much easier in the daytime than it is atnight, but I can still manage to send us on small detours to explore newterritory. Friday we moved on, following the coastal road west from Llandudnoto Bangor where we crossed the Menai Straits on the historical Menai Suspension Bridge to Anglesey Island.There is a reason to choose a small car in the UK. Bridges and roadways werenot built to accommodate larger North American style cars. In fact it took me awhile to get over my fear of imminent disaster caused by scraping the side ofthe car on a stone wall or the side of another car. The other caution is theprevalence of speed zones, all monitored by cameras laying in wait for thedriver who dares exceed the stated limits that change as we pass through eachsmall hamlet. We are not sure if we got caught on camera in one town. We hopenot.

Our first stop was in Beaumaris Castle begun in 1295 by KingEdward I to guard against the marauding Welsh. After 30 years of construction,Edward got distracted by the now warring Scots and never finished the castle.Considered the most technically medieval castle in Britain, it is now a WorldHeritage site. We spent an hour or so wandering the ruins and enjoying the viewsof the Irish Sea from the ramparts. Our timing to enjoy the many concerts onoffer in Wales is off. We missed several performances by Welsh choirs inLlandudno and workmen were at Beaumaris setting up for an open-air Opera andOrchestra concert inside the castle grounds. I hope the threatening rain holdsoff for tonight’s performance.

We bought sandwiches for a picnic lunch and carried onaround the island on winding country roads. We were going to go all the way toHolyhead but I directed Ray on the wrong turnoff part way around and we headedacross the island. It didn’t really matter. We still enjoyed the sheep in thefields and the quiet roads. We only wish we had time to explore the multitudeof walking trails that continually crossed the roads.

Lunch ended up being inthe parking lot of a beach surrounded by sand dunes. Several other cars weretaking advantage of the location for their lunch break. An added bonus was awalking trail leading to the end of a promontory where burial chamber datingfrom 2500 BC has been discovered. We walked the short distance to peer throughlocked gates at a series of standing stones inside a large chamber beneath whatwas originally an earth mound. It looked very interesting. Guided tours can bearranged on weekends and Bank Holidays but again our timing was wrong.

We continued on around the island, crossing back over theMenai Straits on the newer Brittania Bridge and driving a short distance toCaernarfon, where we are staying in the Menai Bank B&B Hotel for the night.Our pub dinner last night in Llandudno was good enough to search out anotherone for tonight. Tomorrow morning we may vist another World Heritage site,Caernarfon Castle, before joining our friends in Harlech.

To see more photos of Anglesey and our trip the previous day in Llandudno click
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Llandudno: A Planned Resort Town

2011-09-09T09:45:00.000-07:00

Thursday 8 Sept 2011-09-08

Wednesday night was a decidedly young crowd of locals at thePalladium, one of the few drinking spots still serving at 11:30 PM. The guyswere dressed very casually, the girls were fashionistas in high heels and veryshort skirts. This morning we were no longer the oldest in the crowd. The firsthint was the number of people with walkers, canes and wheelchairs. I estimatedthe average age of the tourists to be at least 70. Families with children hadreturned home and bus tours of seniors had come to fill the gap. We had allThursday to explore the charms of Llandudno, one of the most popular seasideresorts in Wales.

Llandudno sits at the base of a small peninsula jutting intothe Irish Sea. The Mostyn family were the wealthiest 19^th century landownersin Wales, except for the Crown. The Victorian era was in full swing and seasideholidays were high on every wealthy families list. Helped by the EnclosureActs, which the Mostyn family championed, tenants on the former town commonwere relocated and the land was bought up. Llandudno Bay, a broad curve twomiles long, anchored on the northern end by the rocky promontory, the GreatOrme, and on the southern end by the smaller Little Orme Head, was the perfectspot for a model resort community. Plans were made in 1849 for the Mostynfamily by a Liverpool surveyor, Owen Williams. A broad promenade was built overthe shingle banks of Llandudno Bay, later enhanced by a broad Marine driveenabled visitors to enjoy the sea view on foot or by carriage. A line of hotelssprung up in a wide curve facing the bay, lots were sold and building ofholiday homes progressed over the next number of years. The town center consistedof broad avenues laid in a grid pattern, unlike the narrow village roads morecommon at that time. Restaurants and shops opened to service the tourists whocame in droves. The ½ mile long Llandudno Pier, considered a Victorian marvel ofwrought iron and wood opened in 1876. The cable-drawn Great Orme Tramway, builtin 1902, enabled tourists to enjoy the view from the top of Great Orme.

Today most of the elegant three story Victorian homes havebeen converted into B&Bs and small hotels. I estimate there are moreB&Bs per square mile in Llandudno than any other town in the UK. We stayedin one of them. The modern trip to the top of Great Orme is a ride in a cablecar but the high winds and end of the summer season had forced its closure. Itwas even too windy for us to consider walking up Great Orme. We contentedourselves with strolls on the promenade and the pier and having lunch in town.This was a day to relax and battle the inevitable jetlag.

To see more photos of Llandudno and our trip the next day in Anglesey click
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The Long Journey to Llandudno 7 Sept 2011

2011-09-08T08:31:00.000-07:00

6-7 September 2011 Llandudno Wales
“Madam, wake up, our flight has been called”. A kind fellow passenger had recognized the sleep deprived couple had not heard the announcement to board the plane. We quickly woke up and joined the line for our short connecting flight from Heathrow to Manchester.
It has been a long time since we left our home on Tuesday evening. Our last day in Ottawa for the next two months started well. Ray and I were leaving that night on an overnight flight to Manchester, England via Heathrow. We had three days on our own before meeting 13 other friends for a week together at a lodge in Harlach, Wales. We were ahead of schedule, with just a few short chores to finish before leaving for the airport. In fact, we had enough time for a final morning of duplicate bridge, much to the surprise of our fellow bridge players to whom we had said good-bye last Friday. We even managed a nice walk in the afternoon. Right on time, our kind friend, Huib Arnold, arrived to drive us to the Ottawa airport.

From that point on our carefully laid plans started to unravel. The flight was delayed by one hour from a late 11:35 departure to a very late 12:30 departure. When we finally boarded the plane, the Air Canada crew assured us we would be able to make up time on the flight over the ocean. By the time we got through a long, tiring, overnight flight and landed in Heathrow, we had not made up any time and the generous two hours between flights had been whittled down to one. After a long walk and a shuttle bus ride to the domestic flight terminal in Heathrow, the check-in gate for our connecting flight to Manchester had been closed. We had no choice but to stand in line and book seats on a flight leaving two hours later. We negotiated long line-ups for both customs and immigration and the security check and found seats amongst the multitude of duty free shops. There we waited and waited for the gate number to be displayed for our flight. Well past the time of our anticipated departure our flight displayed that ominous “flight delayed” notation. By that time I had given up trying to read as my book kept dropping when my eyes would not stay open. Eventually the departure gate was posted and we hustled off to yet another lounge. Not too long after the posted boarding time we all trooped onto the plane. The flight crew explained that the delays were caused by strong winds in England and there was now another problem. The vehicle towing our plane onto the runway could not disengage itself from our plane. Another service vehicle had to be called to cut us free. We finally left at 6 PM, 4 ½ hours after our original departure time and we still had to drive to our B&B in Llandudno, a resort town in northern Wales.

Despite the cold rain that was falling and the rapidly approaching night, things were looking up. Our shuttle van to the nearby Thrifty car rental depot arrived and our rental car was ready for us. When asked if our car ran on regular gas or diesel, we were told it was regular gas, but we could exchange it for a diesel fuelled car if we wished. It would be a slightly larger car and came with GPS and would only cost another £5 per day. I thought we would be fine with the smaller car we had originally chosen. Hindsight always tells you what we should have done. Ray had copied the directions to Llandudno from Google maps and gave them to me, his navigator. I admit my navigating skills were sub par that night. What would have been an easy 2 hour drive in the daylight became a 4 ½ hour ride in the rain and the dark. We didn’t have a good map of the area between the Manchester border and Wales and I could only turn on the interior light to read the directions for brief moments at a time. We made our first mistake shortly after leaving the car rental office. After correcting the first error ½ hour later by returning to our starting point, we proceeded to miss at least three other mistakes. Ray’s favourite expression became “we’ve seen that before”. I reminded him that whenever we bicycle or hike he tells me that he is never lost, we are just exploring new territory. We explored a lot of new territory that night, but at 11:30 PM we found our B&B and the owner was still up waiting for us. A celebration drink at a local pub was just what we needed to unwind, regardless of the late hour. We could sleep in the next morning.

Weekend in the Loire Valley

2011-03-31T18:00:00.000-07:00

Chenonceaux France
25-27 March 2011

What is nicer than eating a picnic supper in the springtime, sitting on a bench beside a stream, watching a horse munching on the grass in an adjacent field? The late afternoon sun was fast disappearing as we munched ham sandwiches, washed down with a bottle of local wine. We were enjoying the last of an eventful day exploring Château Chenonceau in the Loire Valley and the village of Chenonceaux.

Old well at La Roseaire

Ray, I, Erica and our grandsons, Atticus and Roman, had driven from Paris Friday evening, leaving Andrew at home recuperating from jetlag and a week of OECD meetings in Botswana, Africa. The Hôtel La Roseraie had been recommended by a member of the MOMS group of English speaking ex-pats in Paris. It suited us very well. We had a suite with two bedrooms and a living room, perfect for our family group.

Château Chenonceau, the ladies château, was first built on the site of an old mill on the Cher River sometime prior to the 11th C. The chateau was rebuilt several times and was given by Henry II to his mistress, Diane de Poitiers. She had an arched bridge constructed, joining the château to its opposite bank and oversaw the planting of extensive flower and vegetable gardens along with a variety of fruit trees. After King Henry II died in 1559, his strong-willed widow and regent, Catherine de' Medici, had Diane expelled. Because the estate no longer belonged to the crown, she could not seize it outright, but forced Diane to exchange it for the Château Chaumont. Queen Catherine then made Château Chenonceau her own favorite residence, adding a new series of gardens and spending a fortune on enhancements, including a gallery over Diane’s bridge. The château, seen from the River Cher, is one of the most beautiful of the Loire châteaux.

Bedroom fireplace

We all enjoyed visiting the grounds and the interior of the chateau. Erica and the boys had audio guides which helped somewhat. There was so much to see. The Château sits on 70 hectares of farm and formal gardens. All the properties have been lovingly restored, using historical plans and many of the original furnishings. The boys tired of the interior before the adults did. Erica took the boys out to run through the hedge maze before Ray and I finished up our tour. The boys had a great time chasing each other around the hedges. On our way back to town we stopped to visit four donkeys in a field, part of the château farm property.

After a multi-course lunch in the Hostel du Roy restaurant, across the road from the hotel, we returned to our rooms in the hotel, intending to get the boys to take a rest as they were very late going to bed the previous night. The boys were still full of energy so, leaving Erica behind for a nap, Ray and I took the boys out for a walk around the town. The boys were in fine form, exploring everything. Atticus led Roman into situations that were almost beyond him, jumping across the water in a lavoir, leaping across a ditch and trying to walk on all the graves in an old cemetery. Atticus even managed to climb up a metal drain pipe onto a low roof covered with clay tiles. It made me nervous and I sounded like a broken record continually telling him not to do what he was doing. Thank goodness he escaped unscathed. His Dad later said Atticus was just like him as a child.

Part of the reason for our walk was to find a playground where the boys could play with a soccer ball. The only suitable place ended up to be a green space between the railroad tracks and the car park for the chateau. They had a good time kicking the ball around. On our way back to the hotel we met Erica, who had wakened from her nap and had been looking for us in the château grounds, but we never made it there.

Sunday began with a light rain, perfect weather for visiting the Cave des Roches in Bourré. The cave is the only location in the world that cultivates different mushrooms 50 meters underground. The caves, extending over 120 km of tunnels on seven different levels, were originally created to extract white limestone used in the construction of the many chateaux and large houses in the area.

Paris Brown mushrooms

The regular guide was sick so the substitute, a woman who works collecting the mushrooms, gave us a combined tour of both the mushrooms and the promised underground village. We all, including the boys, found it very interesting, although Erica had to translate for Ray and I as the guide’s rapid French left me behind. We saw button mushrooms, Paris browns, oyster and Pied blue varieties growing. We got to taste some of the Paris brown mushrooms and they definitely had a distinct nutty flavour. Erica bought a bag of the Pied Blue, the most expensive, to bring back to Paris.

A large section of the tunnels illustrates how the workers extracted huge limestone slabs. They were able to carve just two slabs per 10 hour day. A few years ago a talented stone carver was invited to use the tunnels as his canvas. Over three years, the man worked to depict an underground village in the limestone. The carvings of doors, windows and animals were very realistic. The carver has been invited back to expand the village in the near future.

La Lionniere

We had just enough time after the cave visit to drive Mareuil-sur-Cher to La Lionniere. As well as being a working farm raising goats, La Lionniere is one of a series of ferme auberges in France that operate a bed and breakfast and a restaurant where about 50% of the food served must be produced on the farm. Reservations are required as the set meal is prepared just for the number expected. When Erica called to reserve the woman didn’t sound very receptive to two young children attending. However, there were toys, paper and colours available to keep the boys amused while waiting for our multi-course meal. The lunch was well attended, including a large group with four young children celebrating a family event. The meal, which included several goat cheeses, squab and curried goat, was served in a glassed conservatory overlooking gardens in full spring bloom. After dinner the boys went outside to see the farmyard and get acquainted with the resident lab. Roman, who is very unsure of dogs, was frightened by the friendly dog and came inside, but Atticus was charmed. Atticus now wants a dog.

All that was left of the day was the drive back to Paris. We arrived to find Andrew busy preparing a chicken dinner for our return. He certainly looked a lot better rested than he did on Friday.

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Paris in the Springtime

2011-03-31T14:27:00.000-07:00

Paris France
16-31 March 2011

One of the Paris Apartment Buildings

Paris is for walking tours; Paris is for Art and Architecture appreciation; Paris is for dining; and for us Paris is for visiting family. This year March in Paris was a welcome end for our travels to East Africa.
Spring comes earlier to Paris than it does in Ottawa. There is no snow, tourist crowds are minimal, the temperature is moderate, spring flowers are in full bloom and leaves are popping out on the trees. Yes, we need a warm jacket but it is great walking weather.

Most days for me started with a croissant run to one of several boulangeries (bakeries)near the apartment. After that I liked to walk our two grandsons, Atticus and Roman, to their school. After Erica and Andrew had left for their jobs, it was time for Ray and I to consult the guide books that Erica and Andrew have accumulated during their 3 ½ years in Paris and plot our route for the day. We sometimes walked straight from the apartment and other times took the Metro to explore new areas of the city as well as rediscover old favourites.

Of course the best routes included a good lunch spot. If it was a sunny day, a sandwich and soft drink bought at a boulangerie eaten in one of the many parks was just right. Other days we looked for a restaurant with a special two-course lunch menu. Restaurants are found on every street corner and are very popular with Parisians. There is lots of choice. We looked for the “good value” restaurants away from the touristy area. We had to make sure to choose a restaurant early in the lunch hour to ensure a seat. The food was invariably delicious and beautifully presented.

Doorway to University of London in Paris

Erica started a new job in early January as Librarian for the University of London In Paris, located in the British Council Building, right next door to the Canadian Cultural Center, overlooking the Esplanade des Invalides. Ray and I accompanied Erica one morning to the library and were very impressed. She is very pleased with her job change.

We babysat the two boys the first weekend while Erica and Andrew flew to Lisbon for a short getaway on their own. We had a good time with the boys, playing their favourite card game, Solo, going to the park and swimming in the Montparnasse public pool on Sunday afternoon. Erica returned Sunday evening, leaving Andrew in the airport to catch a flight to Botswana where he had meetings all week.

One of our excursions took us to Père Lachaise Cemetery in the 20th arrondisement. The cemetery was started by Napoleon in 1804 to replace a cemetery, next to Les Halles, the city market. The cemetery had been closed in 1786 for health reasons. Père Lachaise is full of notable Parisians, including artists, writers, musicians and Napoleonic military elite. The cemetery is huge, spreading up over a hill. We got a map showing the location of famous people’s graves. Everybody else visiting has the same idea. Streets throughout are well sign posted, as are the divisions within the cemetery. The graves are all above ground style, with either a raised slab with an inscription or a family crypt. Most are quite elaborate. The map was quite good but still required searches to find the exact spot because the graves are so closely packed together.

The first grave on our list was for American Jim Morrison, the lead singer of the popular Doors group, who died in Paris in 1971 of a drug overdose. Fans still visit his grave, leaving bouquets of flowers and other mementos. We had to wait our turn to take photos of the grave.

We walked to the northeast corner to find the grave of Edith Piaf, stopping on the way to see other notable monuments. A large statue, reminiscent of Rodin’s the Thinker had the name E Bulgatti inscribed on it but no dates. All the info I found on the web said Bulgatti, the inventor of the famous racing car prior to WWII was buried near the Bulgatti plant in Germany. The statue was impressive anyway.

Modigliani Grave

Edit Piaf’s grave was hard to find. A group led by one of the guides offering his services in the cemetery alerted the rest of us who had been fruitlessly searching. Nearby we finally located the grave of Modigliani, the Italian painter. He died of alcohol and drug abuse in abject poverty in Paris at age 35. He left a 22 year old pregnant common law wife, Jeanne Hébuterne, and a 15 month old daughter. Jeanne returned to her parents but was so distraught she jumped from her family’s fifth floor apartment killing herself and her unborn child three days after Mogdiliani’s death. She is buried next to her lover.

We finished by finding the graves of Moliere and La Fontaine, who were moved to their present site with great fanfare to publicize the new cemetery. We also found Chopin’s grave and Mano Solo, an artist who died in 2010 of AIDS.

One of the walking tours in Paris Access guide book sounded good. We had been to the Place des Voges, suggested as the start of the walk, but we hadn’t been to the places at the end of the walk. We took the Metro to the Louvre and made our way to the Place des Victoires at the confluence of six streets. An equestrian monument in the center of the square honors King Louis XIV celebrating the Treaties of Nijmegen, concluded in 1678-79. The original statue was destroyed in 1792 during the revolution. In 1828, the restored Bourbon king, Charles X, commissioned the current equestrian statue of Louis XIV, dressed as a Roman emperor.

The guide book highlighted Lucien Legrand wine store, in business since 1850, near the Place des Victoires. We found it in the lovely Gallerie Vivienne, one of several upscale malls covered with a glass roof, built over one of the narrow Parisien streets. The store was supposed to have a ceiling covered with wine corks but it was not visible from the outside. A notice on the door advertised rather expensive wine tasting and food to accompany the wines. Ray spotted a bottle of wine in the window from 1916. We wondered if it was still drinkable. A flower store in the mall caught our eye with a moss covered bicycle decorating the doorway.

Detail of Porte de St Denis

There are two interesting arches in the area, both constructed on the destroyed medieval walls of the city. The Roman-style Porte de St Denis was built by Louis XIV to celebrate his victories in Flanders. Porte de St Martin was added two years later to announce the grandeur of Paris to visitors arriving from the north at the very time that Louis XIV was moving the court to Versailles. Nearby was the elaborate facade of the Renaissance Theatre, constructed in 1872.

On the way to Les Halles, we took a side trip to visit the Bourse de Commerce (1887), one of the few buildings to escape demolition of Les Halles. On the site of an ancient wheat hall, brokers dealt in wheat, sugar and other commodities. Today it houses the Chamber of Commerce. The dome is all that remains of the old wheat hall, rebuilt in metal after a fire in 1802 destroyed the original wooden dome. The interior of the dome is covered with murals depicting Paris as the defender of commerce and industry. Next to the Bourse is a 28 m (101-ft) column topped with a metal cage. The tower was originally attached to Catherine de Medici’s mansion. She built the Horoscope Tower in 1767 so that she and her astrologer could climb closer to the heavens and predict the future.

Les Halles (pronounced Lay Alle), was the traditional Paris market place. Père Lachaise cemetery replaced an older cemetery next to Les Halles. Demolished in 1971, the market was replaced by gardens covering an underground sports complex, shopping mall and RER train hub. Much of the complex is under reconstruction, scheduled to be completed at the end of the year. We walked through the garden area that included a children’s playground that Atticus and Roman would enjoy.

The courtyard of Ste Eustache Church, next to Les Halles, was filled with people enjoying a picnic lunch in the sun. L'écoute (the listener) sculpture by Henry Miller, sits outside the church. People crowded restaurants nearby and a small market with vendors selling take-out meals filled a side street. We found a booth with good falafel sandwiches, which we bought and ate sitting in the sun.

After lunch we followed the suggested route to the Defender of Time clock in an alley way leading to an apartment complex. It was built in 1975, modeled on the Rathaus clock in Munich. The oxidized brass sculpture originally heralded each hour of the day by sending a sword-brandishing warrior to battle against a bird, a crab and a dragon, representing the 3 elements: air, water and earth at. The faces of the clock have stopped at two different times, leaving just the figures for us to admire.

The esplanade of the Georges Pompidou Center, near the Clock, was awash with student groups and buskers. I spied an didgeridoo player sitting on the concrete playing very well. When asked, she admitted she was French, not Aussie. I left a tip because it is a difficult instrument to play and she played very well. A juggler had a large English speaking school group watch him try to catch a spoon in a cup balanced on his head. He finally succeeded after several tries. Another man created giant soap bubbles between two lengths of rope. One man, sitting peacefully eating a nutritious meal of fruit and veggies, had a huge pile of junk, his art work, balanced precariously on a shopping cart beside him. I took his photo and tried to give him a tip, but he didn’t have a hat or cup ready to accept money.

Stravinsky Fountain Figure

Paris is full of fountains that were recently turned on for the spring season. Another day we returned to the Pompidou Center with Atticus. He was fascinated with The Stravinsky fountain, next to the Pompidou Center. Colourful figures, inspired by Stravinsky’s music, twirl and spout water, making it a child magnet. In a square next to Stravinsky is the Fountain of the Innocents, a large sculpture built between 1546 and 1549. It was named after the adjacent Innocents Church, named after the innocent children killed in Judea by Herodes.

Another walk found us at Musée des Arts et Metiers, the oldest Science and Technology museum in Europe. It was founded in 1794 as a depository for the preservation of scientific instruments and inventions and housed since its inception in the deserted priory of St Martin des Champs. We will have to visit the museum another time. We just went into the inner courtyard and then around to the garden of the museum where a copy of the Statue of Liberty stands. The statue was the plaster cast of the eventual full sized Statue of Liberty. After the sculptor died, the cast was finished and donated to the museum by his widow.

The 19th C Theatre Gaiete, where comedies and dramas are still performed, sits across the street from the Museum courtyard. A pleasant park with a pretty fountain, it is popular with locals enjoying the spring sunshine.
Erica had suggested we go to Marche des Enfants Rouge for lunch. Flower and vegetable stalls share space with several restaurants serving take-out meals. We each chose a plate of tagine; one with lamb and the other with chicken, which we ate sitting at the tables in the sun.

Andrew came home Friday morning from his meetings in Botswana. We gave him a break by decamping to Chenonceaux in the Loire Valley for the weekend. See the separate blog for details.

We usually visit at least one museum. I chose the L’Orangerie, an art gallery on the Place de la Concorde, full of impressionist and post-impressionist paintings, most from the collection of art patron Paul Guillaume. The upper floor contains Monet’s tableau of Les Nymphaes (Waterlillies), inspired by his gardens in Giverny. Monet produced the canvases during WWI. He envisioned the canvases arrayed in a circle to create an area of calm as an antidote to the horrors of war. Monday afternoon there is a guided tour in English. Ray and I would have benefited more with the English audio guide. Our guide, an art historian, spoke little English. Ray and I were joined by two British girls for the 1 ½ hour tour. Ray lasted 20 minutes before excusing himself and doing his own tour. I did learn a lot from the guide but it required a lot of patience. I ended up as unofficial translator for the struggling guide.
Paris is also a city of tourist scams. Beware. We left the L’ Orangerie to walk through the adjoining Tuilleries garden, where we spied a woman trying the infamous gold ring scam on unsuspecting tourists. We had fallen prey to this scam two years ago. Erica had told us that we were lucky to have escaped by just paying €2 for the worthless “gold” ring. Often there is a pick pocket working with the Gold Ring person. When I saw the tourists being approached, I called out “it is a scam”. The tourists quickly left and we were followed and soundly berated in a language I did not understand for a short distance by the woman and her partner. They felt cheated of their expected payment. I was glad to stop the fleecing of tourists.

The next day Ray went for a walk to the Eiffel Tower. The area is always full of tourists, souvenir salesmen and con men enticing tourists to bet under which shell the stone has been placed. He walked home along the Seine but was stopped on the sidewalk by two scruffy looking men who claimed they were police. Ray demanded identification. One showed him an arm band which could have been counterfeit. The other man quickly flashed a badge but Ray was not satisfied. They spoke only French and Ray’s French is limited. A couple with a young child was alerted to Ray’s problem and came to his assistance. It turned out they were genuine police and wanted to see identification. Apparently this is permitted in France. The woman who stopped explained to the plains clothed police that this was not the case in North America. The problem was resolved but be cautioned. Carrying some sort of photo identification with you in Europe. You could be asked to produce it.

We ended our visit to Paris the last evening with a delicious dinner with Erica at an Italian restaurant near her work place. We will be back exploring more of the city and of course sampling more of the cuisine.

To see photos of Paris on Picasa click here https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/ParisWalksMarch2011?authkey=Gv1sRgCJKwgayK--jEgAE&feat=directlink

A Last Look at Nairobi Kenya

2011-03-16T12:58:00.000-07:00

Nairobi, Kenya

Tuesday 15 March 2011
Nairobi the bad, watch your belongings and be careful where you go. That is what we were told about the city. Thankfully, we encountered only friendly people and a clean, prosperous city during our brief visits.

Wildebeest Camp Nairobi

On our way to the Kenyan coast we stayed overnight in an older hotel right in the center of the city. Most of my time was spent in an internet cafe while Ray roamed the business center streets. Our return to Nairobi was for two nights before flying to Paris. We elected to stay at a very nice backpacker spot, Wildebeest Camp, in the western suburbs. A large house, built in 1935, on an acre of land was the former home of one of the British Colonials before Kenya gained its independence. It is now owned by an English-Australian couple who live with their small son on the second floor of the house. The gardens have been improved and extended the gardens surrounding a line of Safari tents for backpacker tourists. If you have your own tent, you can pitch it in one section of the gardens. Lighting for the tents and the umbrella topped patio tables scattered around the gardens is solar powered. Dinner is a buffet served in the former large living room of the house and breakfast and lunch are served at patio tables or in the dining room on rainy days. We arrived Monday evening in time to meet some of the other guests and to have the buffet supper.

The next day we decided we needed a little exercise. Downtown Nairobi was a bus ride away through often gridlocked traffic or a 30 minute walk, mostly downhill. Most of the route was shaded by flowering trees and bushes. The city beautification project is producing impressive results. We had been warned, several of the public buses belched black diesel fumes. Ray kept his handkerchief over his nose and I held my breath as the worst ones passed. Whenever we stopped to consult our guidebook to get our bearings, we were offered assistance from local pedestrians. They were all very friendly.

We came to the large Uhuru (which means Freedom in Swahili) Recreation Park where lunch time workers rested in the sun. One corner was like Hyde Park in London with a speaker expounding his views for a crowd of spectators. We stopped to snap a photo of a clock tower in the middle of a landscaped traffic circle. Suddenly, several men, some in uniform came running out of the park. One jumped into a car slowing down at the circle. Uniformed officers ran into the circle and stopped traffic in all directions. Those of us on the sidewalk were urged to stay back. Everyone stopped to see several cars with “President Escort” signs race around the corner followed by a few police cars and finally two very official black sedans in one of which was the Kenyan President. Living in Ottawa we can expect to encounter motorcades conducting some official to a meeting, but it usually is not quite as dramatic an entrance as this Nairobi one.

We continued on to view City Hall and the Jomo Kenyatta Monument in front of the Judiciary building, all surrounded by more flowering plants. We found an outside beer garden to have a lemon soda to refresh us and relax before starting on the walk back.

Our flight to Paris via Cairo was scheduled for 4:30 AM. A taxi driver was booked for 1 AM. We were glad we had reserved a second night at Wildebeest even though we would not be able to stay the whole night. We at least got some rest before heading out to the airport and managed some sleep in the plane to Cairo. I am writing this blog in the plane on the second leg to Paris and will send it off when we reach Erica and Andrew’s apartment.

To see a few photos of Nairobi click the following
https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/NairobiKenya?authkey=Gv1sRgCPCbhaPi3pv3mQE&feat=directlink

By the Sea - Malindi, Kenya

2011-03-14T03:33:00.000-07:00

Mwembe Resort, Malindi, Kenya
7-14 March 2011

What do you do in a beach resort town popular with Italians? You go to the beach and you eat Italian food. Our RCI timeshare had been exchanged for a week at Mwembe Resort in Malindi, a seaside town two hours by minivan north of Mombasa. We basked on the beach and swam in the resort pools. We bought homemade pasta and Italian breads, had foccacia served instead of bread with dinner and had excellent gourmet pizza for lunch.

The resort, owned by an Italian, was several cuts above our usual budget accommodation. Mediterranean style bungalows scattered throughout leafy grounds contain just thirty six rooms. A large pool was just a few steps from our room. There was another smaller pool on the grounds and a tennis court, which we didn’t use. Every afternoon tea and cookies were served in an open area near the pool every afternoon. It was a relaxing way to end our visit to East Africa in a spacious one bedroom suite with partial kitchen. We alternated cooking our own simple meals with dinner in the very good restaurant associated with the resort.

The resort is about 1 km from the center of town but a convenient shuttle bus leaves at regular hours for the shops in town. The shuttle bus also takes Mwembe residents to two different beach resorts, both owned by Italians, where we could spend the day. The first day we went to Rosada and rented two chaises facing the sea. We soon discovered that although the beach was long and beautiful, the ocean swimming left something to be desired. A coral reef lay about 500 m offshore sheltering the beach. There were extensive sea grass beds just offshore, great for fish, but not conducive to swimming. Except at high tide, the waters are too shallow to really swim. We had long walks along the shore, found a shallow pool at the edge of the water and read our books. The saving grace was the excellent restaurant where we had lunch, and chatting to new friends staying at Mwembe, Penny and Gordon Eaton, from Brighton, England.

After that first day we took the shuttle to White Elephant Resort, a short distance from Rosada, to swim in their seaside pool and enjoy their large chaises. Entertainment was provided on the weekend by small teams of boys performing tumbling routines and looking for contributions. Women selling sarongs and small trinkets and men offering boat rides roamed the shore looking for customers. Many approached first speaking Italian as that was the language of so many of the tourists. Salespeople were polite, easy to talk to and didn’t try a hard sell if it was obvious we were not a customer.

Someone at White Elephant has deep pockets and a wild imagination. The creativity of one of the owners had been given free rein. The resort advertises itself as a creative Art Center and it is. Most of the buildings are art galleries with an assortment of permanent and temporary exhibits. Every building, whether it was a gallery or one of the few rooms for rent sported doorways, columns and wall treatments of architectural interest. Lintels from India, friezes on the walls or furniture designed especially for the rooms graced the buildings. Sculptures of animals, especially horses and elephants, were scattered around the buildings and in decorative pools. Every corner had something you wouldn’t expect to see.

After deciding we had both had a bit too much sun, we took the shuttle to the beach resorts and walked back to town. It took about 1 ½ hours, walking on the long stretches of hard packed sand and picking our way around one rocky outcrop, to reach town. The rocks led to a bay littered with beached fishing boats being repaired by their owners. We passed the Vasco da Gama monument, a simple white washed pillar topped by a cross. It was erected by the explorer during his visit to these shores in the 16th century. The town jetty stood high and dry over the sand, waiting for high tide when boats would be able to dock alongside. The sand from the jetty onward glistened in the sun with golden flakes of mica. We exited the beach through a beach resort and found ourselves just past the main shopping area of town. We could have continued on past sand dunes all the way to Lamu, but that will have to wait for another trip.

One evening we joined Penny and Gordon and a young German couple, Christian and Anita, for dinner at one of the best restaurants in town, The Old Man and the Sea. We enjoyed delicious seafood lounging on a banquette of pillows set in a Moorish style alcove. It was a treat.

A Marine Park, the first established in Kenya, lay just a short walk from White Elephant resort. We arranged to go snorkelling on one of the many boats anchored at the water’s edge. Christian and Anita shared our boat for several hours of snorkelling in the clear waters not far from shore. The corals have sustained extensive damage in the past but there was still plenty to interest us. There were a few anemones with my favourite clown fish jealously guarding their territory. I sighted a purple lipped giant clam in one rock crevasse that closed up when I waved my fingers in it direction. Ray and I saw several varieties of fish that were new to us plus lots of the familiar parrot fish and sergeant majors.

We have checked out of our room and are sitting in the shade by the pool at Mwembe, reading and writing this blog. All that remains of our East African tour now is a short plane ride to Nairobi later this afternoon. We have booked a Garden Safari Tent for two nights at Wildebeest Rest Camp in the suburbs of Nairobi. We fly to Paris VERY early Wednesday morning.

To see photos on Picasa click the following and select Slideshow to view
https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/MalindiKenya?authkey=Gv1sRgCLKuh9OXke_EWQ&feat=directlink

Journey to the Coast: Nairobi and Mombasa

2011-03-11T04:51:00.000-08:00

Nairobi and Mombasa Kenya

4-7 March 2011

Portuguese gate to old Mombasa Harbour

Big African cities have lots of traffic, lots of small shops and usually, lots of rubbish. We don’t usually stay long, preferring to get to the more peaceful countryside. Nairobi was simply an overnight stay, a place to catch up on the internet and catch a bus to the next destination. I did the internet while Ray walked around the business section of downtown Nairobi, where our hotel was located. He found the area surprisingly clean and full of new, prosperous buildings. There were not even dodgy looking characters waiting to snatch your backpack or purse that we had been warned about. Still, we were anxious to be on our way.

At least the Horizon bus to Mombasa gave us the roomiest and most comfortable ride we had encountered so far in East Africa. With heavy traffic at both ends of the trip it took over seven hours to reach Mombasa and our backpacker rest house.

Mombasa is finally realizing that tourists are drawn to the old historical sections of the city. Old Town Mombasa dates back to the 16th century and much of it looks its age. The Historical society is striving to preserve the best examples of East African architecture but has far to go. There are a few lovely examples of buildings with decorative upper balconies with decorative screens protecting the women from prying eyes. We spent our one day in Mombasa exploring the area. We started out in the crowded Old market where shop keepers beckoned us to “come, just look” at their wares. Women now stroll the streets on their own in search of market goods. Many are covered in the black burka with only their eyes uncovered but glimpses of colourful dress clothes can be seen underneath and elaborate designs in sequins decorate the sleeves and front of the burka. We found our way to the Old Fort Jesus, built by the Portuguese in 1593 as protection against marauding bands of Arab invaders. Next to the fort was an archway leading to a harbour where several people were swimming. It didn’t look clean enough to tempt us. We kept to a harbour side walkway to enjoy the views and gradually made our way up through the warren of narrow unpaved streets of the Old Town. We found the Island Dishes restaurant recommended by Lonely Planet and enjoyed a very good African style buffet lunch before walking back to our hotel.

The next morning we took a taxi to the minivan stand where Matatos to the beaches north of Mombasa start their trip. We chose an Express minivan going directly to Malindi where we had reserved a condo for the next week. Half an hour later the minibus was full and we were speeding northward. Our driver believed that time was money and drove as fast as he could. Thank goodness the road was straight, flat and paved. That didn’t prevent the driver from being stopped and fined for speeding at one of the police checkpoints. We continued on at almost the same speed, arriving safely in Malindi about noon.

To see Mombasa photos in Picasa click the following then select Slideshow to view
https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/MombasaKenya?authkey=Gv1sRgCKmN-aSdkZeczQE&feat=directlink

Flamingos in the Lake-Nakuru NP Kenya

2011-03-06T08:11:00.000-08:00

Lake Nakuru National Park Kenya
Friday 4 March 2011

The smell of fire lingers in the air and smoke issues from several still smouldering trees. This was not a managed fire to control the underbrush. It most likely started as a result of carelessness in one of the communities bordering the eastern edge of Lake Nakuru National Park. As well as burning the underbrush the fires destroyed many mature trees. It will take more than one rainy season for the park to recuperate.

We were supposed to stay in Lake Nakuru Guest House, located within the boundary of the National Park, as part of our tour. The fires had destroyed power lines to the guest house and ruined the already problematic water system, necessitating a shift to a hotel in Nakuru town close to the park gates. This was a good alternative except that it eliminated one game drive in the park. The entry fee for the park is good for 24 hours, provided you do not exit the park. We had an option for a game drive on Thursday afternoon and pay an extra fee for another game drive Friday morning. We had seen all we had hoped to see and then some in the Masai Mara. We opted for some time off and have just one game drive early Friday morning before driving to Nairobi in the afternoon.

The 180-sq-km Lake Nakuru National Park was created in 1961 to preserve the unique alkaline lake with its blue-green algae, the food source for greater and lesser flamingos. The park is also noted for its wealth of birds, especially shore birds. Both black and white Rhinos were reintroduced to the park some years ago and have thrived. We saw several white rhino families foraging in the bushes close to the lake and one black rhino settled into the tall savannah grasses near the south end of the lake.

We had started our drive along the western shore of Lake Nakuru. For once we were encouraged to get out of the minivan and walk on the salty mud flats as close as we could to the flocks of flamingos and pink backed pelicans. We managed to identify several other birds, including the omnipresent but ugly, Marabou Storks. Rare African Spoonbills shared space with Yellow Billed Stork and tiny plovers and stilts searched the lakeside pools for food.

Antelope of many varieties, zebras and cape buffalo grazed beside the lake but the fabled leopard failed to appear. We drove up the edge of the escarpment to enjoy the view from Baboon picnic site. A few baboons made an appearance, as they usually do in an area where picnickers may have left tasty bits to eat. At the south end of the lake we encountered several herds of white legged giraffe; a different species from the giraffe in the Masai Mara munched delicately on Acacia leaves.

One of the few remaining trees in the burned out eastern section had a family of black and white colobus monkeys tearing off leaves to eat. As we watched them through binoculars, a limb occupied by one monkey crashed sending the hapless monkey down several feet to land on top of his mate. Both continued happily tearing off leaves as if nothing had happened. A lone impala delicately made its way through the burnt savannah foraging for anything edible.

We left via an eastern gate and joined the highway to Nairobi. Just past the Sleeping Man Mountain we were rerouted by police onto the old road to Nairobi rather than the faster new road. Our guess was there was a traffic accident blocking the new road. The old road snakes up the side of the Rift Valley, climbing several 100 m to give us views of the extinct volcano Mt Longonot and other lesser hills in the valley. The trip took a little extra time to reach Nairobi but we would have missed the best viewpoints had we taken the new road.

More photos have been loaded into Picasa. To see them click the following and select Slideshow to view
https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/FlamingosInTheLakeNakuruNPKenya?feat=directlink

The Food Chain in the Masai Mara, Kenya

2011-03-05T08:05:00.000-08:00

Masai Mara National Park Kenya
Monday 28 Feb 2011 to Thursday 3 March 2011

A pride of lions

Safaris are turning us into ghouls. Most of the animals in the parks are vegetarians but the ones everyone wants to see are the predators, at the top of the food chain. We got several opportunities to observe the food chain in action during our visit to the Masai Mara National Park in Kenya.

We arrived on Sunday afternoon by bus from Kampala Uganda to Nakuru, on the shores of Lake Nakuru, in Kenya to spend the night in a hotel before starting a five day safari in the Masai Mara and Lake Nakuru National Park. We met our two safari mates, Catriona Moynihan from Ireland and Lindsey McDonald from Aberdeen Scotland, at breakfast the next morning. The girls, both fourth year medical students in Aberdeen, had just finished a six week placement in a hospital in Malawi. They had spent two days at Amboseli National Park, south of Nairobi, Kenya and were continuing on to the Masai Mara. Our guide, Ben Mwapi, met us outside the hotel and loaded our luggage into his minivan from Asili Tour Company in Nairobi.

We set off through the Rift Valley on good paved roads to Narok, the closest town to the Masai Mara. The road from Narok to the park is only 75 km but it took us three hours. Anyone observing the drivers on the paved section would think that all the drivers were drunk. Ben was just like the other drivers. He negotiated the road by either keeping a tight slalom course around the continual potholes or driving with one side of the van on the road and the other side on the unpaved shoulder. Despite being tilted crazily over the shoulder Ben managed to keep the minivan upright. We were glad he was driving and not us.

Our home for the next three nights was a permanent safari tent set in the shade of Acacia trees at Mara Sidai Rest Camp, just outside the Oloolaimutiek Gates at the southeast end of the park. We were very comfortable. Our meals were served in a communal dining lodge.

That afternoon we set out for our first game drive. The topography is the same as the Serengeti, broad savannah grasslands surrounded by low hills. We saw antelopes of many varieties, wildebeest, zebras, Cape buffalo, warthogs, giraffes, and elephants that afternoon. One observation we made early in on safaris was that a convergence of multiple minivans and jeeps meant something of interest was there. If the minivans stayed at the site for more than a minute, we joined them. The first afternoon minivan gathering revealed a pride of lions lazing in the shade by the side of the road. There were at least ten lions in the family of females and young females and males with their manes just starting to bush out. We watched in fascination, standing up to snap photos from the open pop-up roof of the van. The pride stretched, yawned and moved to a shadier spot, still with minivans in tow. Exit time from the park is 6:30 PM with an option to stay to watch the sunset over the Masai Mara.

Tuesday we were up before the sun to start an all-day game drive through the park. We had to slow down for a lone female lion walking unconcernedly along the road in front of us. Around another bend in the road was a big male lion chowing down on a freshly killed buffalo. It was not a sight for the faint hearted. He buried his head in the belly of the beast pulling out the entrails, a special treat for the king of the lions. Lying in the shade of a bush next to the kill was a second male lion, waiting his turn for buffalo innards. The females traditionally do the killing, but Ben told us that the presence of two male lions indicated they were travelling together, having grown too big to be part of a pride. They had jointly killed the buffalo and would spend up to a week devouring the remains. The lion feasted until he was full, stretched and got up to attempt to drag the buffalo carcass into the shade. It was too heavy for one lion to drag and the other male wasn’t rushing to help his brother, so we left them to their rest and moved on.

We stopped to see a family of elephants forage amongst the trees and to watch yet another pride of lions. Ben said it was not the same pride as we had seen the day before, but they were equally as lazy. Our favourite was a baby, trotting after the others when they moved from the road to a shadier spot.

Only in the Masai Mara would a communications tower be camouflaged as a tree to make it blend into the environment. We saw a small plane land at an air strip near the luxury resort Keekorok Lodge. Arriving by plane sure beats the long African Massage trip by road. We stopped for our bio break at the resort. The bathrooms were several cuts above the usual African plumbing and the large souvenir shop had a wide variety of well made items for sale. The interior of the lodge and the chalets arranged around the manicured grounds looked very inviting, provided money is no object.

The Hippo Pool is on the Mara River, half way along the border of the Masai Mara with Tanzania. Viewing was on a 3 m high ridge overlooking the river. A ranger led our group along a path at the top of the ridge to see the hippos and crocodiles. Clusters of hippo pods lay soaking in the shallow waters in both directions on the river. A large crocodile basked half out of the water just below us. The ranger urged us on to see the Granddaddy of crocodiles, a huge 5 m long beast lying on the shore in the shade of a tree. The ranger said it was 75 years old. Ben told us that crocodiles can live to be 100. After 70 years their skin changes from green to grey and scaly and their heads develop lumps. This old pappy was certainly grey and scaly and oh what big teeth he had.

We left to find a picnic spot for lunch, following a road along the border between Kenya and Tanzania. We passed a concrete border marker indicating our van was briefly in Tanzania. We stopped at a picnic area, just over the New Mara Bridge on the border with Tanzania. The picnic area is managed by administration offices for the Mara Triangle, administered by a separate council from the rest of the Masai Mara. Daily fees are collected by the Masai Mara council or the neighbouring council, depending on which section of the Masai Mara you are staying in. People travelling from the Serengeti can enter the Masai Mara at this gate, obtain a transit pass to travel through Kenya and exit at another border gate into Tanzania, as long as they leave before night time.

I would have liked to sit on a log overlooking the river to eat my box lunch but that place was taken by a family of Black Faced Vervet monkeys and they steal your food if they can. We sat on a log under a tree and watched Grey Capped Social Weavers building their nests in the tree next to us. A colourful Agama lizard sat on the rocks and a family of desert rats foraged nearby.

We left after lunch and retraced our route back to the Oloolaimutiek Gates. Part way there Ray called out, “road kill”. There was a dead Thompson’s Gazelle in the middle of the road. We wondered if it had been hit by a car or killed by an animal. Ben said it had been killed by an animal earlier. There were drag marks on the road to the gazelle and a cheetah lay in the shade of a bush right beside us. Ben said she was waiting for cooler temperature to drag the gazelle into the shade for snacking. Cheetahs like fresh kill so she wouldn’t leave the body very long. We sat in the van and waited for her to leave her resting spot. Sure enough, she got up, stretched and walked over to the body, got a good grip on the hind quarters and dragged it to the bushes where she began gnawing on her prize. We left her in peace and drove on, back to Mara Sidai.

It was after 4 Pm and we still had another visit that day. For an additional $25 we could visit a Masai village. The money is given to the chief of the village who distributes it amongst the villagers. Ray opted out and returned to our tent for a rest. The girls and I joined a young Masai man, Muha, for a tour to his village, a five minute walk from Mara Sidai. A few of the villages near our camp strive to retain the traditional ways. Muha’s village of 120 people was one of them.

On the way to the village Muha pointed out several small bushes. The leaves of one produced a red dye when crushed. The dye was used to colour the distinctive red blankets the Masai wear. I think they are commercially dyed and woven nowadays. Leaves from another bush produce soap when boiled, useful for bathing and cleaning clothes. Muha picked up a baby goat grazing with other babies at the edge of the village. The herds of larger cows, sheep and goats are taken to graze in fields nearby every day, tended by one or two Masai boys. The babies are left near the village where it is safer. We were alerted to the return of the herd by the excited bleating of the babies who rushed to find their mothers amongst the returning herd.

The village was surrounded by a circular fence of thorny bushes, maintained by the men to keep out predators. The herds are brought into the village for the night. The cows wander about the village while the sheep and goats are kept in a separate round enclosure within the village fence. The babies are housed overnight in a separate alcove within each house. The village dogs raise the alarm if any predator should breach the fence and attempt to make off with one of the cattle.

Muha and two other young men demonstrated the traditional way to start a fire by rubbing two sticks together. It worked. They were able to use the resultant spark to light a handful of dry grass. Several young men appeared to sing and perform a traditional dance for us. One by one each man jumps as high as he can, with the highest jumper being declared the winner. An elder joined the dance wearing a hat fashioned from the mane of a lion. The Masai aren’t allowed to kill a lion, even for ceremonial purposes, so when a lion dies, the skin and mane are given to the Masai. Some of the women, wrapped in brightly coloured cloth, signifying their marital status, performed a wedding dance for us. We were each draped in a red cloth and invited to join the women.

Several of the men and women had large holes in their ears, signifying they were first born in their family. The loops of ear get so long over time that some men looped the bottom part of the ear over the top of their ear. At least it was out of the way. Muha told us that Masai who continue their education beyond primary school do not have to have their ears punctured.

Catriona and I were invited to visit the home of Muha’s parents while Lindsey was taken to see another home. The woman are assigned a variety of chores, including minding the children, cooking the meals, carrying water in big plastic containers from the river to the village and building their house. A woman’s work is never done. The low houses, arranged in a circle beside the fence, have a double framework of branches, woven together with bark strips. The walls are packed with a mixture of mud and cow dung and the flat roof is constructed the same way. There are no large windows, just a few small holes for ventilation. We had to crouch to enter a low door into a small vestibule with the calf alcove at one side. The houses last nine years before termite damage become so severe they start to collapse. The whole village must be relocated and new houses built. Mahu told me they always choose a site close to the primary school that serves the area.

It took a while for our eyes to adjust to the dimness of the room. Mahu told us his father had four wives. One, who I took to be the youngest, sat at one end of the room near the food preparation area. In front of her was a fire pit covered with a metal grill. Three men, Brothers and uncles, took their places along a bench serving as the parent’s bed. They were there to meet the guests. We were directed to another raised seat in an alcove. At first I didn’t see the woman’s young baby peacefully sleeping behind me, coved with a cloth. We were invited to take their traditional beer made from sorghum. I had a small taste that was more like ginger ale and quite pleasant. That was because the beer was not yet fermented.

The women of the village make beaded bracelets and necklaces and other items made of wood and stone for sale to tourists. They had their wares set up on tables made from twigs behind the village. I bought a few small bracelets and was able to take a photo of two of the women dressed in their best jewellery.

We had tea and coffee the next day before setting out on one last early morning game drive. I had fun photographing birds and identifying them with the help of Ben and his Masai Mara Bird Guide. We thought we had a chance to see an actual kill. A female lion crouched in the grass beside the road keeping watch on two large Topi antelope. The wind was in the wrong direction and the Topi could sense the lion’s presence. They remained wary and moved away. There was to be no lunch for the lion from those antelope.

Two vultures perched at the top of a tree indicated there was something dead nearby. It was the buffalo kill from the day before guarded by one of the male lions. Several jackal circled the area hoping to grab leftovers. The lion was not issuing any invitations to share his meal.

We returned to camp for breakfast and to say goodbye to Catriona and Lindsey. Their safari was over and they were driving back to Nairobi in another van headed that way.

Ray and I had a break until 3:30 PM when we would have our last game drive. We still hadn’t sighted a leopard. Ben drove into the small hills hoping to see this elusive animal. All the other vans out for the late afternoon drive had the same goal. Every time we passed a van Ben would stop, greet the guide and trade sightings. No one had seen the leopard for three days and no one saw it that afternoon either.

On our way back to the gate at the end of the day we saw the minivan herd stopped by a road. We had to go see what was keeping their attention. It was a young female stalking another two Topi. She crept through the grass getting as close to the prey as she could. Another female lay in the shade of a tree watching her younger protégé. Ben said the lions are very patient and could wait hours before getting close enough for a kill. Alas, the wait was all in vain. The grass where the lion lay was not tall enough to hide her and the Topi sensed her presence. The lion observing from under the tree got up, yawned and walked over to her protégé. It was time for us to leave too. We had witnessed chow time for lions and the cheetah and almost saw an actual kill. Add to that all the animals and birds in the Masai Mara and what more could you ask for. We were satisfied with everthing we had seen and left contented.

The drive back to Nakuru the next day was still rough but we are getting used to being bounced around. We travelled through the semi desert of the Rift Valley where a breeze was creating mini whirlwinds of dust some as big as a tornado. It didn’t affect our drive. Tomorrow we would end our safari with a visit to Lake Nakuru National Park, but that is another blog.

To see photos on Picasa click the following, then select Slideshow to see them
https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/TheFoodChainInMasaiMaraKenya?feat=directlink

Journey to the Nile: Murchison Falls NP Uganda

2011-03-03T05:13:00.000-08:00

Murchison Falls

Uganda

Thursday 24 Feb 2011 to Sunday 27 Feb 2011

Sunrise on the Nile

We motor slowly down the Nile on a small tour boat, cameras ready, waiting to spy yet another animal or bird that our Murchison Falls National Park guide will point out and name for us. The afternoon boat tour is part of a three day visit we arranged at Red Chilli, a backpacker hostel in Kampala. The source of the Nile is Lake Victoria. The river changes names several times before reaching the Mediterranean in Egypt. In Uganda, the Victoria Nile is channeled through a narrow gap and falls 45 m over Murchison Falls, made famous in the classic movie The African Queen, starring Katherine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart. It continues to Lake Albert at the western end of Murchison Falls NP on the border of the DRC (Congo) when the river is becomes the Albert Nile. We were on the Victoria Nile.

There is lots of wildlife to see. Hippos crowd together in every shallow bay, grunting to each other as they find a more comfortable position, maybe resting their head on the back of the nearest obliging hippo. At one time there were so many hippos in the river that hunting was allowed to control their numbers. Area lodges featured Hippo steaks on their menu. Some hippos wade ashore to snack on the grasses at the shoreline. The hippos gaze at us as we motor past. They are no longer hunted.

We spy a few elephants come to graze by the water. They flap their ears to ward off flies and keep themselves cool. One elephant has lost half its trunk. It got its trunk caught in an illegal wire loop snare meant for a smaller animal. In its panic to get free, it ripped off part of its trunk. It has learned to compensate by using its mouth to grasp leaves and high grasses. Unfortunately that means it is more difficult for the elephant to get enough food and is unlikely to live to an old age.

Shorebirds stalk the river’s edge. Herons, egrets and African Fish Eagles sit silently, waiting for unsuspecting fish to come into view. Look there is an eagle with its dinner at its feet. Kingfishers dive repeatedly into the waters. Darters and Black Snake Birds fly in front of our boat. Colourful bee eaters and small swallow cousins disappear into their nests in the holes on the side of high sand banks. We float on by. Herds of antelope, including Uganda Kobs, Waterbucks, Hartebeests, prettily patterned Bush Bucks and small Oribi, graze on the shore grasses. Cape Buffalo and families of Wart Hogs peacefully share the same space. Now and then we see Baboons and Vervet monkeys foraging for food. They are all stocking up on food before retiring for the night.

We motor as far as 700 m from the raging Murchison Falls. We can go no further in the strong currents. Nearby are the largest crocodiles we have seen so far in Africa, lying on the sandy shore. They know that fish will be swept over the falls and are just waiting for the chance to snare a tasty snack. Our guide tells us that he has seen up to 50 crocodiles at this spot. This afternoon we are thrilled to count seven in the water and more on the shore. We will not be tempted to swim in this river.

We tie up on a tiny rock island in the middle of the river to get off and snap more photos of the falls. Soapy suds, caused by natural silts, animal and human effluents, make this section look like a wash tub. Just after we turn around and begin our homeward journey our Guide points out a small blue mileage marker on a tree. This marks the spot where Ernest Hemingway crashed his plane trying to join friends in the bush nearby. He spent one night alone on shore before being rescued and taken to another airfield to be flown out. His troubles did not stop there. The plane attempting to take off with him inside crashed. Hemingway survived again but it is rumoured that his heavy drinking was a result of that near death experience.

We had arrived in Kampala, the capital of Uganda, the previous Tuesday aboard the Post Bus from Kabale. The Post Bus, which as its name suggests, stops at the major towns to pick up and deliver bags of long distance mail. It is not the quickest route to Kampala but it is reputedly the safest way to travel. We left the cool mountains of Uganda and Rwanda to return to more tropical temperatures, crossing the Equator on the way.

Rather than brave the crowded streets of the city center we chose to stay at Red Chilli Hideaway in the Kampala suburbs. Another reason to stay at Red Chilli was their three day tour to Murchison Falls. Thirteen tourists travelled in two minibuses with pop up roofs for wildlife viewing for the six hour drive from Kampala to the Red Chilli Rest Camp in Murchison Falls National Park.

Murchison Falls National Park, at 3892 sq km, is the largest park in Uganda. It was also the first National Park, created in 1952. The falls were named Murchison after a President of the Royal Geographical Society. Poachers and wars in the 1970s and 1980s almost wiped out the wildlife. Fortunately the park is doing an excellent job of re-establishing the wildlife and we were the beneficiaries.

Accommodation at the Murchison Red Chilli Rest Camp, just 500 m from the boat jetty on the Nile River, is in permanent safari tents or concrete bandas (cottages), which we reserved. It was very comfortable, a great place to relax and enjoy the wildlife, some of which wandered around the site at will. We had a family of Wart hogs and baboons as neighbours so we had to make sure doors were closed when we are out of our room and no food was left enticingly in the tents.

Besides our afternoon boat ride, we had a sunrise game drive in our minivan, accompanied by a Park Ranger. We saw all the animals we would later see on the boat ride plus several giraffe and a lone jackal. Lions and leopards are found in the park but they didn’t make an appearance for us. We enjoyed the rest of the animals instead.

On the last morning of our tour we drove to the Park Center at the top of Murchison Falls. We saw the lower falls from the tour boat, this time we got to see the upper falls. The 50 m wide Nile River is forced through a 7 m wide gap in the granite rocks, causing one of the most powerful surges of water in the world. Floods in 1962 caused the falls to split in two streams. The new upper section is named Uhuru, “Freedom” in the local dialect, to honour Ugandan independence from Britain which occurred the same year. Despite droughts since 1962, the falls still cascade in two sections on the upper portion, combining for one mighty blast of water in the lower portion. Our group followed a Park Ranger along a path at the top of the falls, stopping to take in the power of the water and to admire rainbows, shining through the spray from the river.

On our way out of the park we passed an overturned SUV with the six Chinese passengers standing by its side. We had met three of the men who were on the same boat tour the previous afternoon. They were working in the park investigating oil and gas possibilities. Our driver said they were travelling too fast on the gravel roads and lost control coming down one of the steep hills leading to the falls. They were lucky to escape serious injury.

Our driver made sure we got a safe journey all the way back to Kampala, even if it meant stopping to allow a herd of Long Horn Ugandan cattle cross the road.

To see more photos on Picasa, select the following, then click Slideshow to see the photos
https://picasaweb.google.com/rayjeanne.burnham/MurchisonFallsNPUganda?authkey=Gv1sRgCK2S187M2smb9gE&feat=directlink