And then it Rained

My penultimate destination was Prague. I needed to get from Athens to Prague fairly quickly as time for my travels was running out. I have a surgery planned for 16th September so I need to be home for that. 

Flixbus company changed my ticket and asked if I wanted a refund. Of course I didn't. I needed to get to Prague. My new route took a few hours longer and went via Sofia - another country accidentally bagged thanks to Flixbus. My passport is filling up with stamps. Having huffed a little, I sucked it up and got on with the trip.

I chatted to a professional violinist on the bus from Sofia. What an amazing opportunity and what a lovely person too. This made that leg of the trip fly by. Then spending half a night at Zagreb bus station slipped by chatting to another lovely lady from Bulgaria; mostly about the failings of men. Everyone speaks English beautifully while I struggle with other languages so having people to speak to who have such a good command of my language never fails to impress.

I had three days of planned sightseeing before moving onto Brussels so I could return on the Eurostar. I have been away for just over a month, travelling through ten countries and absorbing so many different things, my mind goes giddy just trying to work out what day it is.

I do get a few clues from my phone. I always know it is Tuesday as someone from the orchard where I volunteer sends far too many whatsapp messages to let everyone know which bus she is on. I get to see these even though I am away. Because I am on limited data, I don't open my messages up if I can help it but when I see ten or more, I wonder if there is a problem. 

I have recently realised that I had not been rained on until Wednesday. It was such a lovely sensation, I was happy to get wet. I walked through the streets of old Prague stepping in puddles and getting a buzz out of feeling cooler. Give me a couple of wet days back in Blighty and I'll probably feel depressed like everyone else.

I love Prague. I get the feeling it is a city that doesn't take itself too seriously. Clock bells ring out on every hour and the historic towers that got knocked down during conflicts were rebuilt in the original style. The buildings are decorated with baroque plaster work across the whole city, I wanted to take pictures of everything. How do you chose the nicest? Impossible. I just gawped and absorbed the delights.

I did the Big Bus tour and the river tour to get my bearings. I found my way through the narrow streets from the area near the castle across the river to the streets of the old quarter. My hotel was really close to the Powder Tower so that is a good landmark that helped me locate myself.

I climbed up the Powder Tower, so called as it might have stored gunpowder. I also climbed up the astronomical clock tower and then visited the dungeons below. However, my trip to the cathedral of St. Cyril and St. Methodius made the biggest impact. It was there that seven freedom fighters fought to their death against 700 Nazis. The reprisals for their resistance resulted in hundreds of people being executed and two villages destroyed. A film was made of the story. 

The crypt

It left me thinking. These people fought and died to make their world a better place. Today we are in an even bigger mess. The crypt is a memorial to these men who died to save their country. We certainly don't learn from history. That's for sure. 

On my last day I did the museum. Once again I was impressed. It was interactive and engaging. The Twentieth Century rooms covered the wars and communism. The natural history section was laid out in an informative way; linking the rooms with evolution theories.

Exhibit A. A giant garoupa

The history of the region was more difficult for me to grasp. Being land-locked, the shape and size of the country changed and shifted over the centuries. It fought the thirty years war against Sweden, through a few religious renegades out of windows, struggled with the ethnic makeup of its population. It also spent some time subsumed into the Austro-Hungarian Empire, then soon after independence was then rocked by the rise of Nazism. Now it is two separate countries and thriving. A success story on so many levels.

My planned overnight sleeper to Brussels did not work out. A moment of panic passed and then I booked another long bus trip. So without a bed for the night, I set out to explore Brussels before my Eurostar departed for London.

I'm home, I've had guests for the weekend and my son has come up from Brighton to visit too. I gave him socks made from camel hair. I said I couldn't fit a whole camel into my small suitcase so it cold only be a pair of socks. So... I'm home.

Dam wesring his camel-hair socks

Crossing Continents

The Acropolis from the Agora

Turkey straddles two continents and this is my excuse for a longer rambling discourse than is usual to share my adventures. Istanbul has all the hustle and bustle of Asia as well as the behaviour of people not respecting your space. I attempted to walk down the main thoroughfare from Taksim Square but was buffeted by so many people who walked straight through me. Even children walked into me along the way. Why? I ask myself. Am I so diminutive that nobody notices me? Whatever the reason, it is both frustrating and tiring. 

A selfie

It was lovely to be able to spend time with an old friend, Maram, in Istanbul. She showed me the other side of Istanbul with its modern elegance and quiet charm. That was such a delight. At one hotel in Tersane the pool had been designed so that it looked as if a Persian carpet was soaking in it. I was blown away. No photo could replicate how amazing this looked. 

Magic carpet

And so it was that my journey had to continue. I went back into Asia, across the narrow strait and spent a goodly time in a Hammam - escaping with most of my skin intact after a very harsh rub down. After this I set off for the bus in Dudullu to the south of Istanbul. I had to remember names spelt in a different alphabet, and ask for directions when I wasn't sure. The further away from the centre of tourist Itanbul you go, the less people can communicate.  Throughout my trip, I have once again been dogged by wifi issues which means that getting around is not quite so easy. My Ryoko overheated and died on the Silk Road then I got an e-sim which would not link up with Turkish telecoms. Now I am in Greece, life is a bit easier and for now, I am connected. 

The bus trip did not pass without difficulties. It arrived late, left the station even later and then on the road somewhere near Bodrum it stopped so a man with a van could  take loads of stuff out of the bus storage compartment. Surely for Flixbus this must be a dodgy practice? My mind raced - a drugs drop? Black market trading? Intrigue! Worse, it took longer than I expected.

Added to my woes, I went to the wrong ferry port in Bodrum and then had to race to the correct one. I was the last on. On the upside, at least I got to see bits of Bodrum I would have otherwise missed. Herodotos was commemorated there and as they say, the rest is history!

Kos at sunset

Kos was packed to the rafters with tourists supping cocktails and soaking up the sun. Surprisingly, the unofficial uniform for women of all shapes was cheap batik and crinkly cotton outfits. It was worth going to Kos just so that I don't have to go again. It is beautiful but the mass tourist industry has made it just another hot place to have a holiday - even though you do have a range of options as to which Pirate ship you might want to escape the island for a day on. It must have been quieter when Hippocrates and Alexander the Great were there even with the intermittent wars.

I set sail for Piraeus at sunset and got to Athens the following lunch time. That sunset really was a wow moment. I stayed on deck until we were well on our way. Those moments are what holidays are made of. Athens is full of Americans. I know because I can hear them! Even in the museum they share their chat with everyone in earshot. Definitely annoying.

I just loved the museum - absolutely everything about it. The archtecture, the exhibits, the stories  - all so well done. I now know I should have burnt my toys in homage to Artemis so that I could grow up. Big Ted is still in Danielle's garage so no hope of my becoming grown up for a while yet. I listen to Natalie Haynes which has given me a bit of a heads up on all the goings on with the Greek Gods. Athena is practically the Godess of almost everything. Zeus ate her Mum, Metis, before she was born. Probably not the best start to a promising future and now she has a city named after her even so. 

I was tempted to buy a Gorgon's head just to keep the grandchildren in check. People frequently did that back then to scare of unwanted guests - probably not just for their grandkids.

There were a couple of exhibits I would have renamed. One said; "Horse without a rider." The horse only had two front legs so it was a horse without a backside - much more accurate. There is thirteen centuries of development and the buildings of the Acropolis are just two and a half thousand years old. It has served many functions - temple, home, church, mosque, fortress. The question is, did Elgin steal the marbles through subterfuge? He certainly  wasn't careful in taken the treasures and managed to destroy some on the way. However, the Ottomans used the building as a fortress and much of it was blown up through their doing. Things stolen are now exhibited in the museum as plaster cast models with the small bits remaining slotted into the casts. I think maybe it is time to hand the disputed marbles back. Greece is looking after its history extremely well. Brits should bury the hatchet as to whether it was legit or not how we came by them and be magnanimous.

My trip has a recurring theme. Police presence. Even in Athens on a Friday night there were vans and police with riot shields, padded jackets all ready for action. I found that 30th August in Turkey was a celebration -Victory Day and that explains the police. At least I missed Putin's recent visit to Bishkek. 

All the President's Men

Reaching Bukhara from Samarkand, we found a hive of activity. The place was abuzz with police, street cleaners and security agents wearing blacks suits and white shirts in plus 40c heat. These men were hardly incognito. The President of Azerbaijan's visit to the ancient city was imminent. I must say that in 24 hours, the roads got painted, zebra crossings gleamed, the flower beds were stocked with colour and most of the roads were blocked off. 

A big regret. I didn't buy the sheep hat

This was effort on a grand scale. The centre of the old city is Disney-fied to the extreme. Renovations to buildings that had fallen into disrepair began in tbe 70s under Soviet rule but went on apace from the 90s onwards. It is now a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

Ready for action

Flowers from far and wide planted together

The cities on the Silk Road are fully geared up for tourists. It only had the finishing touches added for the President's benefit. It is amazing and very neatly manicured. I know the Silk Road is essentially about retail but I am incredulous that anyone makes a living as there are stores galore in every corner. 

By the time I got to Bukhara, I felt a little domed-out. I had seen so many; and they are all so beautiful. The sheer amount is overwhelming. 

Moving on from Bukhara, we caught a Soviet style train through the Red Desert to Urgench and then immediately onwards to the desert by minibus to see a few of the one thousand fortresses that were established in the first century AD. This swathe of Asia has had upheaval and wars aplently throughout its long history. Then with Soviet control, the ethnic groups became mixed, religion was squashed and now it is peaceful. This is surprising considering its proximity to Afghanistan. 

I have found it hard to put into any order the rise and fall of so many little empires. The history goes back fifteen centuries where there are so many khans, rulers, tribes and shifting borders. Algorithms and algebra came from Khiva in the nineth century. Astronomy also had its grounding in the region through Ulugh Beg. These famous people have statues and mausoleums - so many that I hardly remember any.

Khiva

My holiday has gone by in a blur because of recerring tummy troubles. The low point was when I threw up in a plastic bag while travelling in the minibus. The bus stopped for me. I splattered the verge, knotted the bag up and held it for many more kilometers before I could find a bin just to uphold my green credentials. 

Now I am in Turkey. I am almost scared to order anything that might set me off again. My flight on Uzbek Airlines didn't help. Universally the food offered was rejected by everyone on the plane. Everyone wanted to get to the front, heave their heavy bags and ignore all other passengers and obstacles.

I tried to visit the loo. Queuing didn't help. Just when it was my turn, the staff asked me to move inside the food prep area so they could move the trolley. Two other people jumped in before me. I couldn't even claim my aisle seat. A hefty woman climbed on and over me three times to get into the aisle and then wanted me to get out of the way so she could get off the plane when there was no room for me to move anywhere. Being under the weather made this all the more irritating and I found myself resentful of the way people behave in some parts of the world. I tried to watch Wuthering Heights... aah... I never did get to finish it... I'll never know whether Cathy does meet Heathcliffe in the hereafter in this version... Hindley is MIA.

The plane landed. The pilot got a round of applause. Why? I am sure the President of Azerbaijan would have had edible food and a more restful flight. I can only tick this one off as one of the worst flights I have taken. EVER. 

My time in Turkey has been blessed yet again. This time I met up with Maram, a friend from Syria. We hit the high life visiting a hi tech toilet. It washed and dried you at the press of a couple of buttons.. Woohoo. Match that UK! Istanbul is party central. It lights up at night and everyone is out on the street - even police with guns! Perhaps there is a president lurking in the vicinity.

And now... onward... 

A Public Inconvenience

 I thought of calling this blog, "Toilets I have Known". Holidays inevitably require the use of public toilets. It is a popular topic of conversation and often the stuff of  holiday memories. Perhaps it is the wafting aroma or the design than lingers long in the memory. It may even be the location or the urgency with which you need to use the said public convenience. 

Whatever the reason, I can think back to holidays years ago and still remember some of the worst places imaginable to relieve myself. For a few days on this trip I have suffered from Delhi Belly. I think it might have been a hibiscus tea that triggered my angst in the first place but the effects have lingered long since. 

Many Asian toilets are no more than a hole in the ground over which you squat. This to the uninitiated means that you need to be cautious with your aim and this takes a little practice. I went to one toilet on a hill on the way to a waterfall. That one was black and very wet. It smelt so bad you could sense it was there before entering, the smell even wafted from the carpark. Then I went to one on the Kyrgystan Kazakhstan border. That was al-fresco and almost as bad. There were no doors! The through breeze reduced the intensity of the smell though. That was a blessing. There are others I could describe but I am sure you get the picture. There are certainly no electronic feedback boards near these toilets where you can leave a happy face, that is for sure. I am always inclined to hang on for a better place to go but with an upset tummy this isn't an option. 

Registan Square

I am writing this from Uzbekistan - a place where everything is clean. Nobody drops litter. The public toilets glow! In fact the toilets at the train station in Kazakhstan smelt of fresh bleach and were beautifully kept. They put toilets in the UK to shame. I have only been in Uzbekistan a short time but already I love it. I can tell the people love their country and rightly so. It is something to be proud of. The architecture is European, the streets are broad and the traffic flows. The train service runs on time too. It was only really Kyrgystan that was developing and in need of a leg up out of the three countries I am visiting.

I have also had to get used to the different exchange rates for the three countries too. We had som in Kyrgystan, Tenge in Kazakhstan and now so'm in Uzbekistan. The pronunciation of the currency sounds like the word for poison in Arabic. I am a millionaire still as the small notes have at least three zeros on them. Ticket offices are Kacca. Silly me for being amused by this!

Most of my pictures are of mosaics, mosques and madrasahs. Absolutely stunning and built with such skill, it is difficult not to take photos. We were treated to a light and laser show on the walls of Registan Square, acompanied by classical music and narrated by a voice like Tom Waits. Woohoo!

This is my holiday and while I'm loving it, I am unclear of about anything that is happening on World News. I bought a Ryoko so that I would be connected to the internet, as much for safety as anything else. Unfortunately, it has turned out to be a hopeless investment. It won't connect to the internet so I rely on hotel internet only. The Ryoko support asks me to try this and try that. Nothing works. It overheated to the point I thought it would catch fire and now it won'y turn on. Argh.... I am a wee bit concerned that I will need to make an emergency call or check something and I will be cut off from the world. It is a personal inconvenience.

I have been crossing borders as this vast empty part of the world needs long distance travel just to get between places. Even so, having been to a wonderful museum in Almaty, I realise how much I won't be able to see on this trip. One of my big things was to see Tamberlaine's tomb. I saw that on Saturday and it didn't disappoint. 

I still have a few days left and so much to pack in. Must dash!

No More Heroes

The group gathered under Lenin

Nothing to report. All is well in Kyrgystan. I landed on the August 13th to find it equally as hot as it is in England and also as dusty. My car I left back home has a blanket of dust which I see as a badge of honour to saving water! However, this is my holiday I am writing about and I have been excited about the Silk Road trip for a long time.

Eagle hunting

An eagle and me

After landing in intense heat, I had a brief respite in the hotel in Bishkek. The group introduced themselves and we set off for a guided whizz in the intense heat around the city. There are rather a lot of statues erected to the heroes of the country all built in the traditional Russian style. They all have solid marble plinths that must be at least 4 meters high. These statues represent the literary history, the heroism and sacrifice of war and the power of women who have held society together. We saw them all and there are a lot! So many, in fact, that I really can't imagine there being any room for another hero. On a later part of the trip, I saw a heroic truck high on a plinth. Perhaps I was wrong.

Vlad the Bad - AKA Lenin is a true hero in Kyrgystan. Apparently he made it safe for exiled citizens to return and reclaim their land. There are statues aplenty to him. There are one million inhabitants in Bishkek and it felt like every single one of them owns a car. The traffic around the city is slow moving and cars are parked in the usual Asian way which slows moving traffic even more. To be honest, Biskek is much like any average Asian city in its layout and jumbled housing construction. The highway roads are mostly unmade, making for a slow, bumpy ride. This is a country in the process of rapid development.

The leaning tower of Burana- I got to the top

In its history, Kyrgystan was a key part of the Silk Road and the locus of many battles. The Burana Tower was spared by Ghengis Khan as the occupants the city treated him as a favoured guest. The tower once lit the way for travellers sending their wares west.

The currency here is the som. I am a millionaire for the time being! All the big numbers take a little getting used to as does the Russian writing. Of course the alphabet is different to ours so deciphering names is a bit of a game. 

On street corners sit umbrella women who sell fermented grain and milk drinks for next to nothing. The drinks are lovely - a bit fizzy like kefir. Already I recognise the local beer and I have bought some local wine too. 

The small group of ten - all from the UK - but with one of them living in Singapore. Have gelled quite quickly. We have a planned itinerary and get around in a minibus with our tour guide, Vitaly. So far, I have spent a night in a yurt and swam in the Issyk-Kul Lake and now, Sunday, it is the last day of Kyrgystan. We happen to be staying in a most dire hotel. Dodgy shower, no towels to start with, patchy internet and generally quite shabby. Errr.

Tomorrow, Monday we are off to Kazakhstan and another currency challenge, new food to try and things to see.

Did I mention drinks?

Dedication to Duty

 

Roy Maidment- our postman

My village has a new postman. This normally wouldn't be newsworthy but as the last one had been delivering post for the past 53 years, there was cause for celebration. The village duly gathered at the local pub, along with fellow postal workers and the union rep to wish Roy, our postman, farewell. It was quite a big "do" with lots of speeches. At the send-off I found out that Roy was 79 years old and until very recently had been employed by the Royal Mail. He was forced to retire and had not been happy with the decision such was his dedication to duty. 

Apparently, the post is going to be delivered in a different way soon. This is what I was told by Roy's colleagues and they said that him retiring now is a good thing as the new system depended on the number of parcels delivered. EP a company run by a Czech billionaire now owns our postal service and it isn't like it once was. It is probably no longer "royal" anymore. I couldn't help asking if anyone at the depot was called Frank. I have always thought that any child given that name should be destined to work in a post office. There was no one. The men said that mothers still tell their children that all postmen are Postman Pat and that wasn't appreciated. 

The village where I live is quite special. The men at the "do" said they weren't of the right calibre to take on the job of delivering to my village. They said they could only aspire to get the gig. I love where I am and I know it is quite up-market but I didn't think it had such a reputation - even though they were joking. The one thing in the village that is special is the pub. If I mention my village, people will say, "Ah, I've been to the pub. It's lovely." And it is. It is never empty so it must be good. Sadly, the landlord is retiring in September so we'll have to get used to a new postman and a new landlord in the same year.

I also heard in the news this week that women race-cyclists are padding their bras to make them more aerodynamic when racing.  I never realised I had a natural advantage that aided my speed. This week, I went on a bike ride with my daughter, Danielle and my grand-daughter. 

Danielle and Mattaya en route

Most weeks I go for a long bike ride so I am used to a couple of hours or so cycling. We set off with Mattaya perched on a seat on the crossbar. All was well. The weather was warm and not too hot. Cycling was easy. Mattaya had fun ringing the bell all the time. It was really was good. I was treated to a lovely lunch and a beer at the Black Horse - even better. Danielle was tired. She demanded we went by the shortest route home and the following day she didn't come swimming with me as planned. Such is my dedication to wearing my children out, I can still do it!

Mattaya enjoying a pint!

I have spent my week ticking off things I will do for the last time in a long time - last swim, last tennis match, last tennis social, last long bike ride. In a few days I am off on an adventure. I am doing a bit of the Silk Road and tagging another holiday on the back of that trip. When I return home, I am having an operation on my achilles tendon. I reckon I'll be out of action till Christmas. 

Hopefully, I will have enough wifi to write my blog along the way!

Time passes far too fast!

A wheelbarrow full of dying plants from my front garden... too many drought days!

The older you get, the faster time slips by. I know that a week in my life is a much smaller percentage than a week in my grand daughters' lives but it doesn't account for how we are now in the eighth month of the year already and I can still remember Christmas Dinner. I planned a trip along part of the Silk Road back in February when my left foot still felt good after the steroid injection. Back then I felt I could walk the whole thing. Now the thought of too much walking without a good dose of Naproxen makes me wince. 

Nevertheless, I am off of my jaunt armed with enough naproxen soon enough and I am really excited. I am so excited that I have started packing already.  Tagged on to the end of my trip is a few days in Istanbul where I will get my teeth sorted by a most amazing dentist, Dr. Ali. I know he is amazing because my local dentist was impressed with the work he did on me the last time I visited. 

Then with teeth sorted, it is off to Bodrum and across the Aegean Sea to Piraeus and Athens. I haven't planned the rest of the trip but I plan to be back in the UK ahead of going into hospital to have my op. No doubt time will stand still when I am slumped on my sofa and only able to use one leg. That is always the way of the world. Fun times whizz while everything else seems to drag. Having said this, my year has whizzed so I must be having an excess of fun so far. If only I could remember what this fun was. 

Jackie hob nobs with the actors!

This week I watched an open-air production of The Pirates of Penzance at Stowe. As a teenager I loved Gilbert and Sullivan so I rekindled my knowledge of the story by watching a YouTube production first. The outdoor theatre company @Illyriatheatre is made up of a handful of players who take on multiple parts so there is lots of cross-dressing and humour thrown into an already funny story of a young lad, Frederick, who was apprenticed to a wimpy band of pirates. With the help of a dues et machina, the pirates turn out to be peers and all ends well. Nowadays some of our Peers are pirates of the worst kind. Michelle Mone being one - she ravaged the coffers of the treasury and cheated the government out of millions through criminal procurement of COVID protective gear. Sadly, she is not the only dodgy peer sitting in the Lords. 

Other dodgy peers are available for future discussions. Climate crisis is high on our current agenda and this begs the question why lobbying by oil companies has allowed us to get to this nadir where our summer has been such a scorcher that wildfires are destroying vineyards in France, homes in Spain, the countryside in the UK and God knows what else. We are all complicit. We drive cars, we use resources as if they can be magicked up for future reuse. We allow our government to approve and supplement use of fossil fuels because we, like frogs, don't notice how much our environment is hurting us. 

This goes for me too. I went to the show at Stowe with far too little fuel in my car. The pump at Tesco is Buckingham was closed at 9:30pm so I popped along to Bletchley. By the time I got to a pump I had just 5 miles worth of fuel in my tank. I too burn up the miles and don't generally think of the affect my behaviour is having on nature.