Category Archives: Travel

A Rye for All Seasons

A pleasant hour-and-a-half drive from London, through the picturesque fields and oast houses of Kent, brings you to Rye on the East Sussex coast. Until a few years ago, I’d never explored the countryside and shorelines within easy reach of London; now I’m completely besotted. And Rye is one of my favourite spots in this newly discovered haven. The Parish Church of St Mary, perched high on a hill above the old town, welcomes you from afar as you make your approach, and the grade II listed white smock windmill – now a pricey B&B – is one of the first things you see as you enter. Everything is quaint and gentle, from the cobbled streets and tea shops to the 15th century pubs with their inglenook fireplaces. Strolling around the town (“hand holding”, as our friend Mark would say), or out past the harbour and nature reserve to the beach at Camber Sands, is a very pleasant way to spend a day.

The first time Paul and I visited was on a very hot day in August 2010. After battling through the traffic of day-trippers, who had clearly stolen our idea, we fell under the town’s spell. Paul later returned with his brother and dad in May 2011 for a few days of walking, ale drinking and other manly pursuits. In February 2012, he surprised me with a romantic getaway for my birthday, booking a suite in the very posh George hotel, where we had a claw-foot bath in the middle of the bedroom and I was treated to a delicious meal at the hotel’s celebrated restaurant. On that occasion, we spent a lot of time trudging through the snow, helping locals dig their cars out of drifts, or hiding from the cold in The Ship, Ypres Castle and Mermaid Inn. You won’t be shocked to learn, I’m sure, that Rye is as beautiful in the winter as it is the rest of the year. More recently, we visited for a weekend in spring with our friends Alys and Simon, staying in Alys’ mum’s gorgeous house on the edge of the town centre. Whatever the season, Rye is enchanting.

One of the other great things about the town is its location; close enough to explore some of the best of the Kent and Sussex countryside. On our various trips, we’ve visited the Chapel Down vineyard at Tenterden, Pashley Manor Gardens, Winchelsea, Tunbridge Wells and the solitary Dungeness. We’ve also come to love the charms of Hastings, with its sweet old town of boutiques, antique shops and cafés and its seafront of fishing huts and chippies. The 600 acre Country Park Nature Reserve in Hastings also offers great coastal and woodland walks. And the pièce de résistance: Rye is a mere half hour taxi ride from the best restaurant in the country. I cannot recommend The Curlew in Bodiam enough. Now Michelin-starred, the restaurant offers just the right balance of casual elegance and the food is simply incredible. I’m sure it won’t be long before we’re back!

The Islands of Ródos and Symi

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I’ve just got back from a week in Rhodes (or Ródos) with my mum. The purpose of the trip was relaxation first-and-foremost, which was easily satisfied at our nice four-star hotel in Kolymbia on the east coast of the island. The large pool was overlooked by palm trees; there was a good restaurant with a regular supply of grilled fish and nice Greek wine; and it was a two minute walk to the beach: perfect. Days spent indulgently reading by the pool or swimming in the sea were interspersed with some (gentle) exploration of the island. Ródos is the largest of the twelve Dodecanese islands in the east Aegean Sea and is actually much closer to Turkey than to the Greek mainland. Having been occupied by the ancient Greeks, Persians, Romans and Turks, the island was taken in 1309 by the Knights of St John – a Christian military order originating from Jerusalem. The Knights’ occupation lasted over two hundred years, during which time they fortified the island and saw off an attempted invasion from Egypt. In the 16^th century, however, they were defeated by Suleiman the Magnificent and the island fell back under Turkish rule. The Ottamans stayed for almost four centuries, until Italy seized all of the Dodecanese isles in 1912. Finally, in 1947, the island was reunited with Greece, becoming one of the country’s 227 inhabited islands. No-one can claim that’s a boring history!

On our first trip into Rhodes Town, the capital of the island – and indeed the whole region – it’s fair to say we got a little lost. The old part of town, within the fortified walls, is divided into the Knight’s, Jewish and Turkish Quarters (though mathematicians amongst you might suggest that should be Thirds) and is criss-crossed with narrow, cobbled streets. It didn’t help that I navigated us in through the wrong gate, taking us around the dry moat and in at the opposite corner to which I’d intended. Thus every direction I gave from that point on was utterly wrong. We still managed – somehow – to find the Palace of the Grand Masters. And then you’d think with that bearing, I’d have got back on track. But, no.

The Palace itself is an imposing medieval structure that looks like the sort of castle you’d see in a film like Prince of Thieves, full of dark corridors designed to be run down with a flaming torch to escape from Alan Rickman. It doesn’t take long to walk around and provides welcome shade from the stifling streets outside. Continuing through what I thought was the Knight’s Quarter, we came across the Mosque of Suleiman. That’s when I gave up on the map. We proceeded then to lose ourselves in the street bazaars for a while, occasionally scratching our heads at a familiar sight, but mainly wandering aimlessly, until we finally found ourselves on Sokrátous, the main thoroughfare. And from there, we found the main square, Platia Ippokrátous, and confirmed what I’d known for a while – we’d been going in circles. This proved an opportune time to stop for lunch in a café! Sated by calamari and banana split, and on surer footing with the map, we explored some more of the Turkish and Jewish Quarters and the remains of the Episcopal Palace, then exited via Liberty gate to the harbour. The seafront is really lovely – crystal-clear aquamarine water with little bobbing fishing boats, backed by high walls, windmills and forts. Having walked the length of the harbour-front and feeling ready for a sit down and a swim, we headed back through town – unexpectedly finding Ippotón, a narrow cobblestoned street with the Inns of Italy and Spain and the French Chapel – and out via Amboise Gate, across a stone bridge over the moat to the bus station.

On our second trip into town, we arrived late afternoon and went to the Archaeological Museum housed in the old Knight’s Hospital and then for an evening meal at Nireas fish restaurant on Sofokléous. I’d read good reviews of the restaurant before the holiday and we were not disappointed – delicious king prawns, swordfish and an enormous Greek salad proved more than enough to share and the owner was a wonderful host, even if slightly preoccupied by restaurant politics and the impending descent of a film crew. The town is beautiful at night, with fairy lights in restaurants and on trees and the city walls and forts illuminated. I even managed to successfully navigate to and from the restaurant in the dark!

Later in the week, we spent half a day at Lindos, with its impressive (and very high!) acropolis, a 4^th century BC temple with medieval fortifications added by – yes, you’ve guessed it – those Knights of St John. Lindos was once one of the most important commercial cities in antiquity, with a population of 17,000. Now there are only about 700 permanent residents and the town’s sole focus is tourism. The local bus from Kolymbia took us to the foot of the hill, from where we hitched a donkey ride to the entrance of the acropolis. The views from the top, down the Aegean coast and out towards Turkey, are splendid and Lindos itself, with its white-washed homes and little churches, is very pretty. Having climbed to the top and spent some time around the Doric ruins, we spared our donkey the load and walked back down along the steep, dusty track, rewarding ourselves with a chocolate crepe and ice-cream in the town.

Our final trip was to Symi, another of the Dodecanese isles, taking its name from the nymph Syme of Greek mythology. The island is a 90 minute boat ride from the port of Rhodes and is only a stone’s throw from Turkey. It was the only island of the twelve to remain free during the Turkish occupation and as a result became incredibly prosperous, mainly as a result of the ship-building and navigation skills of its inhabitants and its extensive sponge harvesting. At its peak in the 19^th century, the small island’s population reached nearly 30,000. Sponges are still exported all over the world, but now, with the decline of the industry and the economic downturn, the population lies closer to 3,000. We first stopped at Panormitis on the south side of the island, where we were able to look around its famous monastery. Inhabited now by only 8-10 monks, pilgrims nevertheless travel from all over the globe to pay homage to St Michael of Panormitis and the tiny chapel was well worth the stop.

On the northern side of the island, a further 40 minutes by boat, the town of Symi is absolutely stunning! Bright coral and citrus-coloured neo-classical houses tumble down the hills to the harbour, making the stroll around the two sweeping horseshoe-shaped stretches of waterfront an absolute delight. It really is one of the most picturesque harbours I’ve seen, dotted with green and blue fishing boats and banked by an array of seafood cafés. We ate sea bass and moussaka at restaurant right on the water’s edge, also called Nireas coincidentally. Symi is named in Homer’s Iliad as the home of King Nireus, who fought in the Trojan War on the side of the Greeks, so there is no shortage of places bearing his name. After a very pleasant couple of hours wandering the colourful streets and a stop for a paddle in the sea, we boarded the boat back to Rhodes.

I’d definitely recommend going to Rhodes for a short, relaxing break, particularly if you’re looking for a few interesting sight-seeing trips to mix things up.

Symi harbour

Rhodes Town port

The Pearl of the Adriatic

Mighty Big Rocks

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Shots of huge rocks taken in the Australian outback…

Uluru

Mount Conner

Kata Tjuta

36 domes of the Olgas

Uluru #2

Kata Tjuta from afar

Storm brewing over Uluru

Jellyfish and Tim Tams

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Our friend Mark moved to Sydney a few years ago, seeking good weather and giant prawns. I had always fancied a trip to Australia and we were keen to visit him, so in January 2011 we endured the 22 hour flight across the globe. I say endured, but actually we were surprised by how painless the journey was. I think it’s because you’re psychologically prepared and expecting the worst, but I’ve definitely been on more boring and uncomfortable flights. After four films, half a book, plenty of naps and god knows how many meals, we arrived Down Under. Our first couple of days were spent exploring the centre of Sydney. We walked around the harbour, sat on the steps of the Opera House, frequented cafés in The Rocks, visited the Royal Botanic Gardens, and enjoyed a free open-air music festival in Hyde Park. A very pleasant start to the trip.

After shaking off the jetlag and getting over the initial shock of paying £8 a beer, we re-boarded a plane and headed to Tasmania. Mark, his new girlfriend (now fiancé) Gill, and fellow Londoner Andy were waiting for us in Hobart, the state capital. A few factoids for you: Tasmania is the 26th largest island in the world; one of the closest inhabited places to the Antarctic; and has an extremely homogeneous population, built up from the families of convicts and their guards alongside nine indigenous Aboriginal groups. The island was originally named ‘Anthony van Diemen’s Land’ by the Dutch explorer Abel Tasman in the 17^th century, in honour of the sponsor of his exploratory trip (shortened to Van Diemen’s Land by the British), then later renamed Tasmania in recognition of Abel. Unfortunately, it was pretty grey and wet for most of our time there, so we didn’t see it at its best. A real shame, because the landscape is rugged and beautiful. In particular, I’d have liked to have seen the Bay of Fires illuminated by the sun, with shimmering turquoise water and glittering white sand. As it was, the sea was a dull, muddy colour, reflecting the dark clouds, and I had to zip up my hoodie to keep out the chill. This didn’t stop Mark and Andy from having a dip, though they did look quite blue when they came out!

We pootled around the island in a hire car for a week, calling in at various coastal towns and driving through rural beauty-spots like Patersonia, where the people asked after their leader Adrian and we regaled them with stories of his successes in academia. We ate in some less than salubrious places – though the steak the size of my torso in Sheffield was an experience I wouldn’t have wanted to miss – and narrowly avoided a fight with some Aussies while watching an Ashes game in a local bar-come-bingo-hall. The highlight of the trip was Cradle Mountain National Park, where – donning our rain macs and walking boots – we circled Lake St Clair, admiring the waterfalls and lush vegetation…or what we could see of it through the haze and drizzle. It was particularly exciting to spot a wallaby sitting lazily in the rain, not fazed in the slightest by the ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ around him.

Frustratingly, I came down with a bad cold in Launceston. I was less than impressed with the city anyway – despite Paul’s efforts to look on the bright side, encouraging me to “look up” where apparently the officious, grey, concrete buildings were somehow prettier, I wasn’t feeling it. So the snot really didn’t help. And my coughing and sneezing didn’t win me any friends when, having said goodbye to Mark and Andy for the time being, we caught a plane to Melbourne to start our trip down the Great Ocean Road. Luckily, my cold eased and I was able to enjoy the stunning scenery as Paul drove us along the coastal highway. Our first stop was the Otway Fly “Treetop Adventure” in the rainforested area near Geelong. Those familiar with the similar set-up at Kew will understand the deal: metal walkways and observation desks high above the forest floor. We drove on to Apollo Bay that evening and stayed in a motel near the beach. The bay was pleasant enough, but not the idyllic image I’d had of this stretch of coastline.

Luckily, I wasn’t to be disappointed the next day, as our journey took us to the Twelve Apostles via Cape Otway. The lighthouse on the cape is picture-perfect and the eucalyptus trees along the road were full of koalas. I love koalas! I was so excited, and kept making a bemused Paul stop so that I could jump out to get a better look and take photos. The mammoth flight from the UK was worth it just for that stretch of road!

And the Twelve Apostles were spectacular – a beautiful set of limestone stacks off the shore near the Port Campbell National Park. We dropped down onto the beach and strolled along in the 30° heat, feeling very self-satisfied. The day ended with a stay at Oscars in Port Fairy, by far the best B&B of the trip (and possibly the best we’ve ever stayed in). Pricey, but worth it for the “gourmet breakfast” alone. Port Fairy is a charming little town, where the pace of life is slow and everyone seems to have their own boat moored at their own jetty and frequent the same small restaurants. We bought fish and chips and ate them by the water as the sun set. Aah, happy days.

On the way back to Melbourne, we spent a few hours at the Tower Hill game reserve – a protected conservation area inside a dormant volcano. Wild emus, kangaroos, birds, koalas and echidnas roam the area and we had a great time stalking them quietly through the bush and around the lake. Back in Melbourne, we explored the city and ate in some of the most amazing restaurants. Cumulus Inc. serves delicious oysters, charcuterie and fish dishes in a very slick art space on Flinders Lane and MoVida Aqui on Bourke Street is one of the best tapas restaurants in the world.

Determined to see the famous penguins on the beach, we also spent a day on Phillip Island. A 90 minute drive out of the city and linked by road to the mainland, the island is a popular holiday destination for Australians, with beaches, walking trails, surfing, a wildlife park, visitor centre, and the all-important birds. We’d not read anything about the park in advance and it turned out to be really good fun. Tons of indigenous animals – red kangeroos, wombats, tasmanian devils, kookaburra, emu, wallabies, cassowaries, dingos – are to be found, many of which roam freely and are happy to be fed by the hand. At one point, Paul found himself surrounded by eight kangaroos vying for his attention – and they are pretty darn big and powerful up close! We also took a stroll along the boardwalks around Swan Lake, spying unusual breeds of bird, and wandered around the coves spotting seals offshore. The main attraction, though, is the foundation set up to protect the island’s colony of 30,000 little penguins. As the sun began to set, we drove to the headland for a prime spot on the beach and watched as hundreds of them popped out of the sea, waddled across the sand, and made their way up the cliffs to their burrows. Very sweet; I just wish there’d been fewer people. Damn those tourists! Tsk.

Our next stop was the Northern Territory. The three-hour flight to Alice Springs reminded us just how vast the country is, and when we touched down we better appreciated how climatically, culturally and scenically diverse it is as well. Alice is a tiny, red, hot place, with the feel of a frontier town. Straddling the dry Todd River, it is essentially just a few streets of shops and bars, outside of which sit homeless Arrernte Aborigines mistakenly forced to assimilate with the modern world and now spending their days begging and drinking. The town stands awkwardly alongside the large ‘luxury’ casino hotels on the outskirts, where holiday-makers assemble before their trips into the country’s Red Centre.

Being two such tourists, we were soon headed into the outback down long, deserted, dusty roads. Passing the MacDonnell Ranges and then vast areas of red, rocky, almost moonscape land, we arrived at our accommodation for the night – a small motel with a liberal splattering of ‘Beware: Spiders’ signs. I did spot a ginormous one in the ladies, but bravely ignored the panicked yelps of other guests and inched my way under the web to use the facilities. Spiders (including the Funnel Web, TrapDoor and Bird-Eating (yes!) Tarantula) are only some of the many things trying to kill you in Australia – also to be avoided are the crocodiles, snakes, the Great White Shark, cassowary, and Box Jellyfish (the deadliest creature, bar none, on the planet). Good to be kept on your toes. The next day we drove to Watarrka National Park and braved a 12 mile hike around the rim of King’s Canyon. The walk started with a steep climb up ‘heart attack hill’ and went downhill – figuratively speaking – from there! Technically our guide shouldn’t have allowed us to make the trek in the desperately uncomfortable 42° heat, but – even though my asthmatic lungs have never struggled so much – I was really glad to have done it. The views were incredible, the path rugged and adventurous, and we enjoyed a refreshing dip in a waterhole half way round. I’ve never felt as completely isolated and far from civilisation. And it only took three beakers of electrolytes and four bottles of water to see me right at the end!

Finally, over 300km from Alice, we arrived at Uluṟru-Kata Tjuṯta National Park. Some more factoids for you: Uluru, better known in the west as Ayers Rock, was created over 600 million years; it originally sat at the bottom of a sea, but today stands 300m+ above ground, the result of erosion and shifting climates. It is approximately 3.6kms long and nearly 2kms wide and the oxidation of its iron content has given it its orange-red colour. The Anangu Aborigines who ‘own’ it have been in the area for the last 10,000 years and currently lease the land to the Australian government. The nearby Kata Tjuta – or Olgas – are about the same age and are thought to have originally been one massive monolith, as opposed to the 36 separate domes they are today. Our guide took us around each site, showing us the rock art in little nooks and caves and explaining the fascinating Tjukurpa cultural heritage, with its creation myths and ancestral journeys (or ‘songlines’). I was even starting to find plausible the account of a god-like worm creating the cracks and crevices on the surface of the rocks. The area is beautiful and the day ended with a barbeque looking out at the setting sun behind Uluru. The best part of the trip by far.

Our time in Australia concluded back in Sydney. We stayed in Mark’s flat in Balmain, a pleasant ferry ride from the centre, and explored more of the city. Thanks to Gill’s excellent hosting, we enjoyed a lovely picnic and swim at Chinaman’s Beach on ‘Straya Day, had fish and chips on the beach in Manly, and were pointed in the direction of the best boutique shops and cafés in Newtown and Glebe. We visited the aquarium; had a super-sized seafood lunch at the fish market; enjoyed an Annie Leibovitz photography exhibition at the Museum of Contemporary Art; ate at the fantastic Rockpool restaurant on George Street; walked along the coast from Coogee to Bondi; and visited the freaky Luna Park funfair. And on one of the days we borrowed Mark’s car and drove out to Katoomba to see the Blue Mountains, where we dangled precariously from a cable car high above the Jamison Valley, with stunning views of the Three Sisters and beyond.

I also experienced my first one-day international cricket game: England vs Australia at Sydney Cricket Ground. I learned that any sporting outing is made immeasurably more pleasurable when you are wearing thongs (flip-flops) and sunhats and have an esky (coolbag) full of strawberries, Tim Tams and cider. On days like that I can understand why you might uproot yourself and move to the other side of the world. The 22 hour flight home reminded us why we couldn’t do it, but we’ll definitely be back one day to experience more of the country and visit the soon-to-be-married couple and their Aussie brood.

Next time: Aussie critters and shots of mighty big rocks…

Italia Uno: Liguria

Andalucía

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Seville is big. It’s the fourth largest city in Spain. It was founded by the Romans, occupied by the Moors, and latterly conquered by the Christian King Ferdinand III in the 13th century. The city – like much of Andalucía – is now an exciting mix of Gothic, Moorish and Renaissance architecture. So: it’s big and has lots of interesting things to see. Not a great idea to attempt to cover it in two days, then. But that’s what I did. Actually, my trip – in September 2006 – took in Córdoba and Granada as well. So, it was actually an attempt to cover the highlights of Andalucía in four days. Much better!

We stayed on the outskirts of the old quarter, a 30 minute walk to the imposing Cathedral of St. Mary. Interestingly, for those of you paying attention, on its completion in the 16th century St. Mary unseated Aya Sofya as the world’s largest cathedral (see previous post for more on Istanbul). Other interesting facts: it is the burial site of Christopher Columbus and its famous bell tower – the Giralda – was originally a minaret of the mosque that stood on the site. There are ramps inside the Giralda, rather than stairs, so that the muezzin could ride on horseback to the top to call the people to prayer. Don’t say I don’t try to teach you things!

As impressive as the cathedral is, the Alcázar is more so. The palace is the oldest still in use in Europe (being used by the Royal Family when they visit the city) and is a beautiful Mudéjar complex. The Mudéjar were the Moors who remained in Iberia after the Christian conquest and the palace started life as a Moorish fort before being enhanced by subsequent monarchs in renaissance style. It’s beautiful. Archways, terraces, courtyards, gardens, and water features make an intricate yet peaceful compound.

We also explored the expansive, and cooling, Parque de Maria Luisa, a lovely area that contains Plaza de España and other monuments of the 1929 Exposición Ibero-Americana (World’s Fair), and we walked along parts of the Guadalquivir River, beside which stands the Torre del Oro watchtower.

After all that sight-seeing (well…before, in-between, after, anytime we could really!) we ate in some amazing tapas bars and restaurants. I can’t remember the names of them all, unfortunately, but I do remember the one I treated my dad to on his 50^th birthday. Bar Eslava, located in a pretty square in the San Lorenzo district, had been recommended by my friend Helen who lived in Seville for a short time. I admit to being a little dubious when we passed earlier in the day to discover it was very small and completely empty, but I’m glad I kept the faith. When we returned in the evening, people were queuing out of the door and the staff were run off their feet. The menu was only in Spanish and we couldn’t decipher a word, so we just put our trust in the waiter and asked him to start by bringing us six things to try. The best tapas I’ve ever had (sorry Chris!). Pork cheek in sherry, marinated anchovies, stuffed mushrooms, jamón iberico, and so many more delights that I can’t now recall. And by the time we’d finished, our food and wine came to about 25 euros in total. I’d have felt a bit sheepish about choosing the place for ‘treat night’ except we both left with massive beams on our faces, so job done.

Our trip to Córdoba fell on the hottest day. Luckily we spent much of our time in the cool and dark Mezquita. Formerly a mosque and now a Catholic cathedral, the space is a fascinating fusion of the two and its main hall, with its multiple red and white striped arches, is stunning. Back in the sun, the old town (the largest urban area in the world declared a UNESCO World Heritage site) was a wonderful place to wander around. The Calleja de las Flores, with its postcard view back down to the Mezquita, was quite crowded, but the rest of the town was reasonably quiet and we enjoyed meandering through the streets and in-and-out of shaded courtyards.

Which leaves Granada…I saved the best ‘til last! An early start was needed for the 3 hour train journey, but I’d happily have travelled ten times as far to see the Alhambra. The Nasrid palace was built mostly in the 14th century, when it was converted into a palace from a fort by Yusuf I, the Sultan of Granada. The Muslim rulers were attempting to create ‘paradise on earth’, and I’d say they came pretty darn close. Together with the Generalife palace and gardens, the huge complex is simply breathtaking. The architecture is hard to beat and the different layers and spaces reveal new delights around every corner, with reflecting pools, archways and fountains providing endless photo opportunities. I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t clicking away the whole time.

Obviously, for a view of the Alhambra in its entirety you need to be on the other side of the valley. The Albaicín district on the hill opposite, with its narrow Moorish streets and white-washed homes, has the perfect vantage point: Mirador San Nicholas. With dusk approaching, I sat looking at the Alhambra dappled in golden light, with the Sierra Nevada mountains as a backdrop. Heavenly.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

After some seafood paella in a square near the cathedral, we headed back for the train. What should have been a simple journey – if we’d have walked, as my dad suggested – became much more dramatic when it became clear our bus was headed for the coach station rather than the train station. Given we were catching the last train of the day, the urgency of correcting our (my!) error was acute. Stopping numerous times to ask baffled locals for directions, we sprinted in what we hoped was the general direction for about 20 mins, literally leaping on to the train just as it was about to depart. Indiana Jones eat your heart out! The train pulled out of the station and promptly stopped ten feet from the end of the platform for close to half an hour while a fault was seen to. Typical!

The Tourist Shot

Culture Clash

Reflecting on Things

Wats and ‘Phants

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I spent an amazing three weeks in South-East Asia in the autumn of 2008. Hong Kong and Singapore were fabulous (more on those another time), but it was Thailand that I really fell in love with. It’s hard not to when the food, people, sights and culture are so vibrant and exotic.

We first flew to the island of Phuket. Our hotel – The Cape Panwa – was in an idyllic, secluded bay of white sand and crystal-clear turquoise water. Heavenly! There was a colonial-style restaurant right on the beach and the hotel had its own jetty into the sea. The food was incredible – giant langoustines, thai curries and delicious cardamom rice pudding – and the beach was the nicest I’ve ever been to. Swimming, sunbathing, reading, and seeking out crabs were the order of the day.

As tempting as it would have been to lie in a hammock for a week, Phuket has many other attractions. You can’t visit without taking a long tail boat trip into the Andaman Sea to Phang Nga National Park, with its many beautiful islands. We stopped at James Bond Island (so named for featuring in The Man With the Golden Gun) for a look around, spying iguanas on the beach and wading through rock pools. You wouldn’t know that the area had been devastated by the Tsunami in 2004. It’s simply stunning. We also stopped at Ko Panyi, a Muslim fishing village built on stilts by Indonesian fisherman from Java. We visited the small primary school and floating football pitch, and strolled along the raised streets, where hundreds of chillies were hanging from washing lines drying in the sun.

We also headed into the hills for an elephant trek. This was a real highlight for me. We were able to feed the baby ‘phants with bananas, stroking their trunks as they pulled the fruit from our hands, before climbing onto the backs of their parents for a journey through the jungle rainforests and up to a mountain village. The views over the island were lovely and our elephant was beautiful, giving us a smooth ride. We meandered at a leisurely pace, occasionally stopping for some shade. In the village, we had a cookery lesson – making a spicy red curry – and a ride on a cart pulled by a water buffalo. We were also shown how the villagers make baskets from coconut husks and how to tap rubber trees. Great fun!

Bidding a fond farewell to paradise, we flew on to the capital: Krungthepmahanakhon Amonrattanakosin Mahintharayutthaya Mahadilokphop Noppharatratchathaniburirom Udomratchaniwetmahasathan Amonphimanawatansathit Sakkathattiyawitsanukamprasit (or Bangkok to you). The city’s ceremonial name translates as “City of angels, great city of immortals, magnificent city of the nine gems, seat of the king, city of royal palaces, home of gods incarnate, erected by Visvakarman at Indra’s behest”. Nice, huh? After checking in at our hotel on Rajdamri Road, we caught a taxi to the riverfront and jumped on a boat down the Chao Phraya. The taxi driver had ripped us off, it transpired, but given I’m used to London prices I didn’t notice. It was only after comparing the price of the return journey that I realised we’d paid about six times too much. Still, you live and learn. The boat trip was lovely, taking us past Wat Arun and many other famous sights, then down tributaries into more residential areas, with the houses perched precariously on stilts driven into the alluvial plains. An Asian buffet atop Baiyoke Tower II, the tallest building in the city, and a stroll through the Ratchathewi and Pathumwan districts concluded the day.

The next morning we tried to get to Dusit Palace, but – fearful of political unrest and protests against the Prime Minister which were taking place in the area – our taxi driver instead suggested a visit to Wat Saket and The Golden Mount. It’s worth the climb to the top of the Mount for the views over Bangkok, and without the usual throng of tourists the temple is one of the most peaceful in the city. Having waited patiently for us while we wandered around, and only charging us about £3 for doing so (further reinforcing my conviction that yesterday’s driver was a ne’er do well), we went on to the Phra Nakhon district. The Grand Palace was also disappointingly off-limits, the result of a royal birthday or funeral (I forget which), so it’s difficult to say how it would have compared, but Wat Pho was certainly one of the most impressive places I’ve been to.

It’s named after the monastery in India where Buddha is thought to have lived and is home to the gigantic (160 foot) Reclining Buddha as well as over 1,000 other images of ya main man. The large temple complex takes a long time to get round, with its various shrines, gates, statues and courtyards, and we were ready for a sit down in a cafe by the end. Only a short pause though, before we headed into the district of Samphanthawong in Chinatown and to Wat Traimit, home of the largest solid gold statue in the world (Buddha, of course). Here I received a blessing from a Buddhist monk (for a small fee) and we were able to sit in the shade for a while, our legs having started to ache. Time to head back to Thanon Ratchadamri, with its western shopping malls and restaurants, for a bite to eat. An outdoor beer festival was in full swing, so we tried some Thai brew and got a bowl of the spiciest soup I’ve ever tasted thrown in as a free accompaniment. No longer able to feel my tongue or lips, it was time to call it a night.

The next morning, we rose at the crack of dawn and drove out of the city, boarding a long tail boat to Damnoen Saduak. Sailing past salt fields and rice paddies, you arrive at the network of canals that form the traditional floating market. It’s really bustling, with women in straw hats paddling in boats laden with mangoes, coconuts, Chinese grapefruit and other exotic fruits and vegetables. Some were also cooking up large cauldrons of broth and curry. The smells and sounds were fantastic. I didn’t dare barter for anything – it was all too frantic and several of the traders had large snakes around their necks – but it was enough to soak it all in. Next we travelled to Phra Pathom Chedi in the town of Nakhon Pathom and climbed the many steps – in the now searing midday head – to the largest pagoda in Thailand. The pagoda is a huge upside-down bell-shaped structure, surrounded by some of the more uniquely-posed Buddha statues. After that it was on to the Rose Garden cultural centre, where were saw a performance of fingernail dancing, Thai boxing, an elephant parade and a recreation of a traditional Thai wedding ceremony. A great end to our Thailand adventure!

Luckily we flew onward to Hong Kong before the take-over of Bangkok’s Suvarnabhumi Airport by the activists of the People’s Alliance for Democracy, which saw around 3,000 tourists and locals trapped in the terminal for about a week. While I would happily have spent longer in the country, it was most definitely a lucky escape!

Big feet, Big shoes

Wat Dat

East meets West

Better than Tesco

Paradise

Bazaar and Beautiful

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My first trip to Istanbul was with my dad in September 2005. We arrived during Ramadan and spent our first evening wandering around the food stalls that lined Sultanahmet Square and the Hippodrome. The local residents had started queuing well before sundown in order to be first to enjoy the array of delights: stuffed aubergines, lamb kebabs and baklava…as well as the more touristy fare of popcorn, turkish delight and toffee apples. There were fairy lights, crafts stalls, live music and a really friendly, festive atmosphere. The obelisk in the Hippodrome was dramatically illuminated and both Aya Sofya and Sultan Ahmed Mosque, situated at either end of the square, were covered in lights and set off in all their splendour. I decided immediately that I loved the city.

There are too many wonderful sights in Istanbul to list them all, but I’ll mention just a few. First, Topkapı Palace. Built in the 15th century, the palace was the royal residence of the Ottoman Sultans for 400 years. Converted into a museum in the early 20th century, it now contains various holy relics of the Muslim world, Islamic calligraphic manuscripts and murals, and a host of Ottoman treasures and jewellery. Passing though the Imperial Gate and the Court of the Janissaries, you reach the impressive Gate of Salutation that leads you into the palace itself. The complex is vast, with hundreds of rooms, grassed courtyards and fountains. Aside from the Treasury, with its stunning array of sceptres, jewel-encrusted daggers, and random piles of ‘spare’ giant rubies and emeralds, the Imperial Harem was the highlight. Home to the Sultan’s mother, his concubines, eunuchs, wives, children and servants, the labyrinth of passageways, secret doors and terraced rooms is a gateway to a completely unfamiliar time and culture. The Imperial Sofa (throne room) and crown prince’s apartment – where he was kept in isolation in a gilded cage – are opulent and colourful, yet have a real sense of foreboding. The feeling soon dissipates, however, as you exit to the İftar Pavilion with its beautiful view over the Golden Horn. With the sun beating down, I could have happily stayed there for the rest of the day.

But then I’d have missed seeing what has become my favourite building in the world: Aya Sofya. The original building was constructed in only five years, opening in 537 under the Roman Emperor Justinianos. It was used as a church for 916 years (being the world’s largest cathedral for most of that time) and then, following the conquest of Istanbul by Fatih Sultan Mehmed, the building was converted into a mosque. It was used as a mosque for almost 500 years and then in 1935 under the order of Atatürk (the first President of the Republic of Turkey) it was converted into a museum. I can’t describe how amazing this building is. Standing in the centre, looking up at the domed basilica, takes your breath away. Golded mosaics and gigantic boards of calligraphy adorn the interior, and the exterior – with its four tall minarets and salmon walls –is equally impressive. I must have taken about 100 photos!

Whilst nothing could top it, Istanbul is not short of other fantastic architecture. Both Sultan Ahmed Mosque (better known as the Blue Mosque) and Süleymaniye Mosque are remarkable and still working places of worship. With your shoes off and head covered (if you’re a lady), it’s easy to see why the buildings evoke such a sense of wonder and majesty in their congregation. On my second visit with Paul and his family in 2009, we sat for some time on the Blue Mosque’s courtyard steps just as dusk was approaching, admiring how the stunning golden light lit the nine domes. The Grand Bazaar is also spectacular. One of the largest and oldest covered markets in the world, with 60+ covered streets and over 3,000 shops: it is very easy to get lost! My first proper experience of haggling (if you don’t count the time in Tunisia when my dad tried to swap me for camels) was semi-successful – I definitely talked the shop-owner down, but don’t really think I came away with a bargain. Still, the glass lamp is in our bedroom to this day and looks lovely.

Just two more buildings I have to mention… the Church of St. Saviour in Chora, which my dad and I sought out, and Dolmabahçe Palace on the Bosphorus strait, which we visited on my second trip. Now a museum, St. Saviour’s is considered to be one of the most beautiful surviving examples of a Byzantine church and is covered in exquisite mosaics. It was well worth the taxi trip, though the walk back took us through one of the poorest neighbourhoods and it was difficult to witness barefoot children searching for metal scraps to sell. A reminder that outside the tourist centre Istanbul unfortunately still has areas of real poverty. The glamorous Dolmabahçe was built in the 19th century as the administrative centre of the late Ottoman Empire and has the world’s largest crystal chandelier. I’d seen it from a boat on our first trip and so was glad to have the opportunity to go inside. Patrolled by the palace guard and accessible only via guided tour, it is a strikingly lavish building reminiscent of Versailles in France.

Since I’ve mentioned the boat trip, I would definitely recommend taking a tour from Emınönü port around the Sea of Mamara and up the Bosphorus to the mouth of the Black Sea. Our trip lasted about 4 hours, I think, taking us past watchtowers, bridges and lighthouses, and providing time to wander around Rumeli fort at the furthest point along the river. Oh, and you should go up Galata Tower in the Karaköy quarter too. And to the Spice Market. And eat lots of Anatolian casserole. And, and, and…

Dusk at Sultan Ahmed Mosque