Along Ermou almost to the end for a haircut, with the usual trepidation - the hairdresser is very good but communication is limited. As I wait, a woman across from me, also waiting, begins to open her mail - two small parcels tightly taped together - each, it turns out, holding a pair of glasses. The tape is too tightly attached to remove, so she takes advantage of the hairdresser's preoccupation with a comb and leans in front of his customer to pick up the hairdressing scissors, and sets to work ruining the blades. Eventually the hairdresser takes note and retrieves them, kindly sending the boy in training over with a substitute pair as he cleans the blades.
In the end I get quite a decent haircut for ten euros.
JAWORSKI TRAVELS
We live our lives forever taking leave - Rilke
Counter
Friday, 31 December 2010
Tuesday, December 28/2010
Continuing our habit of reading aloud. Currently towards the end of The Jewel in the Crown, first book of Paul Scott's Raj Quartet. Quite interesting from an historical point of view as well as being well written. We read Book II last year, so it's out of order, though not disastrously so, and we've since acquired the third and fourth books as well. In addition, we now have a buffer - downloaded work of Dickens,Strachey, Maugham and deMaupassant from the Gutenberg Project for times when we may find ourselves bookless.
Tuesday, 28 December 2010
Monday, December 27/2010
The Christmas sales continue at the supermarkets until New Year's Eve, with the biggest discounts being on liquor - an unusual phenomenon for Canadians considering that Canadian liquor stores regard five percent as a massive discount. Obviously the attitude is quite different here, as is the tax structure Clearly one should buy a three month supply at once, but it's a bit difficult to calculate.
The attitude to alcohol is different in other respects as well. No lingering Puritanism here. Liquor as well as beer and wine are available in small corner shops as well as supermarkets. Separate stores are uncommon and would only exist for specialty products such as higher end whiskies. Age of access doesn't seem to be a critical factor either - nor does this lead to much interest in the liquor section of the supermarket on the part of teenagers. Thus J, waiting outside the Smart discount store for me, spots a boy of about nine emerging carrying a bottle of vodka out to the car where his mother is waiting with the baby, with as little concern on all parts as if he had been sent in for a loaf of bread or a bottle of milk.
The attitude to alcohol is different in other respects as well. No lingering Puritanism here. Liquor as well as beer and wine are available in small corner shops as well as supermarkets. Separate stores are uncommon and would only exist for specialty products such as higher end whiskies. Age of access doesn't seem to be a critical factor either - nor does this lead to much interest in the liquor section of the supermarket on the part of teenagers. Thus J, waiting outside the Smart discount store for me, spots a boy of about nine emerging carrying a bottle of vodka out to the car where his mother is waiting with the baby, with as little concern on all parts as if he had been sent in for a loaf of bread or a bottle of milk.
Sunday, December 26/2010
Boxing Day. And very quiet here. Quieter in some ways than Christmas Day. The Cyprus Mail, the English language paper, published on Christmas Day - a lone copy remains at the newsstand as proof - but its Sunday edition which includes extra sections with the radio and television guides and the puzzles is not in evidence. Oh no, today is holiday - no paper today. And therefore no telly guide either.
So, lazy day, with random TV and warm sun and extremely good leftovers, including the chicken and wine sauce and J's cabbage rolls, the tastiest I've ever had, with brown rice, caramelised onions, mushrooms and smoked pork loin. Leaves most cabbage rolls miles behind. He's amazingly good with a two burner hotplate and no oven. Though we do have the magic ingredient - time.
So, lazy day, with random TV and warm sun and extremely good leftovers, including the chicken and wine sauce and J's cabbage rolls, the tastiest I've ever had, with brown rice, caramelised onions, mushrooms and smoked pork loin. Leaves most cabbage rolls miles behind. He's amazingly good with a two burner hotplate and no oven. Though we do have the magic ingredient - time.
Saturday, December 25/2010
Having been unwilling to get home at two after midnight mass, we go at 9:30 this orning - a rather thinner crowd than there will have been last night, but plenty of enthusiastic crol singing by the Filippino contingent, complete with some rather original pronunciation - as in the lines from Hark the Herald Angels Sing which are lustily rendered Filippino style as "Pleased as man with man to dwell/Jesus our E. Manuel.
In the afternoon we go down to the promenade along the beach. It's humming. Balloons and popcorn, ice cream, roast corn on the cob and hot chestunts. Some of the children have new Christmas toys with them, and there are dogs on leads, happy to be part of the scene. And ships in the bay, six of them this time, at anchor for the holiday.
In the afternoon we go down to the promenade along the beach. It's humming. Balloons and popcorn, ice cream, roast corn on the cob and hot chestunts. Some of the children have new Christmas toys with them, and there are dogs on leads, happy to be part of the scene. And ships in the bay, six of them this time, at anchor for the holiday.
Saturday, 25 December 2010
Friday, December 24/2010
The supermarkets have opened at seven today. Cypriots aren't big consumers of frozen foods and everyone wants last minute fresh. We trek up past the English cemetery and the ruins of old Kition, which flourished here as far back as the 13th century BC. Some of it has been excavated and bits more, between home and the bakery, are in process, so that between existing buildings there are gaps where one can look down at ancient foundations. It's obvious that these must extend underneath a larger section of modern Larnaca, so we walk home with our chicken from Metro and a large loaf of sesame studded rye bread from the bakery thinking of the community going about its business here over 3000 years ago.
Lovely surprise email fro Jim and Leila and Arturo, whom we first met nine years ago when they were sailing round the world. Well, to be accurate Jim was sailing round the world after early retirement. On his trip he had met and married Leila in Colombia and Arturo was born in New Zealand, so they joined the trip en route. We met them when they were harboured in Cyprus for the winter but also spent a few weeks with them in Malta the following year - but hadn't heard in years. Now Leila has rediscovered our email address and sent pictures of a now teenaged Arturo.
For the first time since we started spending Christmas in Cyprus we go back to our old habit of having Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve. Starts with the nine lessons and carols from Kings College Cambridge via BBC, the signal that Christmas has begun. Then chicken that J has made with wine sauce and vegetables. Finish with chocolate, almonds and shortbread. There are the Christmas decorations on the little table, the candles burning and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. Quiet and lovely.
Lovely surprise email fro Jim and Leila and Arturo, whom we first met nine years ago when they were sailing round the world. Well, to be accurate Jim was sailing round the world after early retirement. On his trip he had met and married Leila in Colombia and Arturo was born in New Zealand, so they joined the trip en route. We met them when they were harboured in Cyprus for the winter but also spent a few weeks with them in Malta the following year - but hadn't heard in years. Now Leila has rediscovered our email address and sent pictures of a now teenaged Arturo.
For the first time since we started spending Christmas in Cyprus we go back to our old habit of having Christmas dinner on Christmas Eve. Starts with the nine lessons and carols from Kings College Cambridge via BBC, the signal that Christmas has begun. Then chicken that J has made with wine sauce and vegetables. Finish with chocolate, almonds and shortbread. There are the Christmas decorations on the little table, the candles burning and a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. Quiet and lovely.
Thursday, December 23/2010
Interesting how respect for a queue varies culturally. So much so that when someone worms their way in ahead of us J or I will often say "Funny, he didn't look Taiwanese." But this moroning J experiences a particularly blatant version. We go early to Lidl, mindful of the crowded supermarkets that accompany the days before Christmas. J is near the front of a line and has reached the checkout counter when a woman phshes in from the side, shoving her shopping art ahead of him. J says that there is a queue and points to its end, but she continues to push, while talking to him loudly in Greek. Eventually J removes her trolley and the people behind, a mixed English/Greek Cypriot couple take up the argument with her in Greek, showing her where the queue forms. She then has an unsuccessful go at crashing the line-up at the next counter before resigning herself to the rear.
Well, perhaps not entirely cultural variation. After all most Cypriots would not have done it and those behind J were less than impressed - but in the UK, land of the sacred queue, only the mentally ill could be imagined trying it on.
There are Christmas films on TV - fortunately Cypriots use subtitles instead of dubbing - but they're ostly things like modern take offs on A Christmas Carol and we're old enough to feel nostalgic about Jimmy Stewart. Tonight's film, The Christmas Choir, is about a man who takes men from a homeless shelter and forms them into a choir. We're thinking that it's a good story line but that in real life the problems would be insurmountable Turns out that it was based on a true story.
Well, perhaps not entirely cultural variation. After all most Cypriots would not have done it and those behind J were less than impressed - but in the UK, land of the sacred queue, only the mentally ill could be imagined trying it on.
There are Christmas films on TV - fortunately Cypriots use subtitles instead of dubbing - but they're ostly things like modern take offs on A Christmas Carol and we're old enough to feel nostalgic about Jimmy Stewart. Tonight's film, The Christmas Choir, is about a man who takes men from a homeless shelter and forms them into a choir. We're thinking that it's a good story line but that in real life the problems would be insurmountable Turns out that it was based on a true story.
Wednesday, December 22/2010
Down to the post office and past a shipping establishment. The sign outside proclaims it to be a bonded warehouse for repatriates retired. Guess repatriates covers people both coming and going. They offer packing and moving services, including "stuffing-distuffing goods." Distuffing - there's a keeper word.
Tuesday, December 21/2010
Sounds like a bit of a party late at night in the room next door. We're pretty good sleepers and anyway justpleased for every apartment that is filled. It's nice having a fairly inexpensive place to stay but it doesn't seem busy enough to keep going. Feels like too much responsibility supporting the Sunflower and its employees - not that there are a lot of them. kAt first it seemed very nice having the lounge-like lobby quiet and to ourselves. And it is nice - but maybe too quiet for long term survival.
Tuesday, 21 December 2010
Monday, December 20/2010
Meet Berndt down at the beach. He's a Swede who has previously lived at the Eleonora and the Athene when we did - as well as having a similarly disastrous short stay at the Nautilus. Last year he and his wife were happily ensconced at the Eleonora at €700 a month. This year when they went back to the Eleonora in October they were told the price was now €900. Then electricity and water became extras to be paid separately. So now they, and other Swedes have rented two bedroom apartments on the waterfront (Finoukides). They do their own cleaning but it's €800 and no buildings between them and the sea. An interesting light on J's having been quoted €1300 at the Eleonora. Berndt says "they're crazy."
Sunday, December 19/2010
Over to St. Helena's Anglican for the service of the nine lessons and carols. They always do it very nicely and the little church is pretty full. Small bits of politically correct editiing to the carols which one tends to sing by heart, being caught out by "good Christians all rejoice." There's mulled wine and goodies afterward, including half of a large fruit cake remaining from yesterday's installation of the new priest, the Rev John Holdsworth. We chat with Jeannie and Chris recently moved from New York, she a New Yorker and he a Cypriot who oved there in 1974 - now back at the family restaurant. Also with Liz Taylor (surname acquired by marriage) who lives in a traditional Cypriot house in Oroklini, just north of us, and is very informative on the diocese (Cyprus and the Gulf) which includes places like Iraq and Yemen, all of which she has visited as a Church council representative.
Sunday, 19 December 2010
Saturday, December 18/2010
Coffee outside the market entrance at Jimmy's Café. A mixture of Cypriot and non-Cypriot customers at the little outdoor tables. Not Cypriot and tourist as many non-Cypriots are not tourists either - a mixture of ex-pats, foreign workers (mostly Asian or East European), students on visas, and others, with English being the most common language after Greek. Today at tables near us two young women chat with a man sitting next to them. Heès bald but has a bushy white beard reaching to mid-chest, a gilt-decorated stole round his shoulders and a large bright turban, which he places on his head as he leaves, nodding to us and striding off with his long hand-carved walking stick, a small red plastic bag of market produce hooked to its end and hanging over his shoulder.
Doesn't feel like a week before Christmas, and it's not just the mild temperatures. There's been a real lack of Christmas films and music, even the corny repeat films with quasi-Christmassy themes. And, as J points out, almost the only carols we have heard have been in the supermarkets. Thus we edge past other shirtsleeved customers by the shelves in an overly warm Smart store hearing a voice singing "oh the weather outside is frightful." Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
That's not the only Christmas contribution the supermarkets have to make. They're pretty good at this time of year at providing fairly generous free samples in the aisles. Thus a quiet trip to Metro this afternoon yields - as well as the staples we camae for - a couple of ounces each of red and then white Cypriot wines (palate cleanser in between cubes of Cypriot cheese), a not-all-that small piece of chocolate honey cake, and (pièce de résistance) a small sample of Bailey's liqueur to be drunk from a tiny dark chocolate cup which is then itself consumed. Does mellow one a little in the face of the Christmas supermarket rush.
Doesn't feel like a week before Christmas, and it's not just the mild temperatures. There's been a real lack of Christmas films and music, even the corny repeat films with quasi-Christmassy themes. And, as J points out, almost the only carols we have heard have been in the supermarkets. Thus we edge past other shirtsleeved customers by the shelves in an overly warm Smart store hearing a voice singing "oh the weather outside is frightful." Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.
That's not the only Christmas contribution the supermarkets have to make. They're pretty good at this time of year at providing fairly generous free samples in the aisles. Thus a quiet trip to Metro this afternoon yields - as well as the staples we camae for - a couple of ounces each of red and then white Cypriot wines (palate cleanser in between cubes of Cypriot cheese), a not-all-that small piece of chocolate honey cake, and (pièce de résistance) a small sample of Bailey's liqueur to be drunk from a tiny dark chocolate cup which is then itself consumed. Does mellow one a little in the face of the Christmas supermarket rush.
Saturday, 18 December 2010
Friday, December 17/2010
Wake to sun but then it looks as if fog has rolled in, obscuring the sea and making the buildings hazy. Soon realise it's not fog but dust, presumably from the Sahara, its usual source. Continues all day, though the temperature remains warm. Still shirt sleeve.
J makes a beautiful spaghetti carbonara for dinner with the streaky bacon from Metro. Why is bacon here well over half lean, whereas in Canada they might almost as well sell it as lard? Is this a question of cuts of meat or the nature of the pig? Also, it doesn't have that horrid stick-your-finger-through-it texture that must come from injecting Canadian bacon, like Canadian chickens, with salt water.
J makes a beautiful spaghetti carbonara for dinner with the streaky bacon from Metro. Why is bacon here well over half lean, whereas in Canada they might almost as well sell it as lard? Is this a question of cuts of meat or the nature of the pig? Also, it doesn't have that horrid stick-your-finger-through-it texture that must come from injecting Canadian bacon, like Canadian chickens, with salt water.
Thursday, December 16/2010
Why do computers have to supply last minute instructions such as: Please do not power off or unplug your machine - Installing update 1 of 12? This warning could have been provided any time in the last two hours, instead of which it waits until I have begun to power off, as it knows full well. In order to guarantee inconvenience or run the battery to zilch? And please do not - or what? There won't be any ice updates until tomorrow? there will be no second chance for updates ever? My computer will immediately cease to function?
The budget debates are broadcast live on the government television chanel, and have been for days, postponing the ten minute English language news and weather. It's obviously of some importance - even to us, as there's a 5% tax slated for food in 2011 - but looks like it would be painfully tedious watching even if one understood Greek. Toonight it runs more than four hours over its scheduled three hour allocation and members of the legislature are obviously drifting elsewhere, as the benches are pretty thinly filled. One woman with long blonde hair has the misfortune to be sitting - and no doubt to have been sitting for a numbing length of time - behiind the microphone used by the member with the floor and in full view of the camera. She looks indescribably bored and is clearly texting as the speeches continue. Put the wine on ice - I'll need it?
The budget debates are broadcast live on the government television chanel, and have been for days, postponing the ten minute English language news and weather. It's obviously of some importance - even to us, as there's a 5% tax slated for food in 2011 - but looks like it would be painfully tedious watching even if one understood Greek. Toonight it runs more than four hours over its scheduled three hour allocation and members of the legislature are obviously drifting elsewhere, as the benches are pretty thinly filled. One woman with long blonde hair has the misfortune to be sitting - and no doubt to have been sitting for a numbing length of time - behiind the microphone used by the member with the floor and in full view of the camera. She looks indescribably bored and is clearly texting as the speeches continue. Put the wine on ice - I'll need it?
Thursday, 16 December 2010
Wednesday, December 15/2010
BBC radio announces that the French have found and intend to give formal burial to, the head of King Henry IV. Well, that's Henry IV Part I - part II anywhere?
Wednesday, 15 December 2010
Tuesday, December 14/2010
We take a walk to Lidl, not very far really to the north of us. It's overcast and windy but the wind is a warm one, though strong enough we can see the umbrellas would be useless. Lidl will be a useful addition to the food sources, with pretty good prices on many things - e.g. young but drinkable Italian wine on offer at one and a half litres for a euro, and prices for chocolate much better than average local ones. Though some other things are not especially cheap. On the whole there is less variety than in the other supermarkets, though there are odd additions, like quilted vests and hubcaps.
Down in the lobby with the netbook - grateful for the wifi - and note the current temperature in Sioux Lookout. It's -29!
Down in the lobby with the netbook - grateful for the wifi - and note the current temperature in Sioux Lookout. It's -29!
Monday, December 13/2010
Walk down to the post office and tourist office - for maps and new bus timetables. The post office is opposite the Kition, our home for the last two winters. It looks deserted, other than the little convenience shop on the ground floor. Then we spot the handlettered sign advertising furniture for sale, and in the covered walkway through the building are bits and pieces of furniture from the hotel, most of it looking a little worn and yellowed, exposed to the world in daylight like this - dressing tables with paint chipped at the corners, even our old drapes in a sad heap. Rather like a dignified lady forced to evacuate in her underclothes. Nothing is underpriced either - white plastic garden chairs for the balcony are €2 each.
J checks at the Eleonora, newly (well, last year) tarted up and relet. Long stay rate - €1300 a month. That's close to 50% more than last year's quote and I'm indignant. Did you ask if there's a single person in there actually paying that? It's the old Cypriot trick of negotiating a different price with each customer. Sometimes a manager will even ask one to remind him of the price agreed the previous spring.
As usual, the language of translation affords entertainment. So I am puzzled by an advertisement for tins of "pilled tomatoes" though I might have been a little quicker had I heard it aloud. Of course - peeled tomatoes. And the small fish labelled "smell" on the next page are pretty obvious, if a bit offputting. But the caveat on Lidl's special offers stating "all prices without decorations" continues to be a mystery.
J checks at the Eleonora, newly (well, last year) tarted up and relet. Long stay rate - €1300 a month. That's close to 50% more than last year's quote and I'm indignant. Did you ask if there's a single person in there actually paying that? It's the old Cypriot trick of negotiating a different price with each customer. Sometimes a manager will even ask one to remind him of the price agreed the previous spring.
As usual, the language of translation affords entertainment. So I am puzzled by an advertisement for tins of "pilled tomatoes" though I might have been a little quicker had I heard it aloud. Of course - peeled tomatoes. And the small fish labelled "smell" on the next page are pretty obvious, if a bit offputting. But the caveat on Lidl's special offers stating "all prices without decorations" continues to be a mystery.
Tuesday, 14 December 2010
Sunday, December 12/2010
Had intended to go to church, but it's raining so we settle for brunch and the Cypriot Sunday Mail. The paper brings the news that someone had left the reservoir gates open during the storm oon Friday night, so tonnes of water were lost to the sea instead of being captured in the reservoir.
Saturday, December 11/2010
Barely up at eight when two men arrive wiith a new television to replace the one that didn't get the satellite chanel LTV. They've also brought a brand new two burner hotplate, replacement for the single burner one we had before, as well as a stainless steel frying pan and a tin opener as we requested. Very nice.
Damp on the pavements and cloudy still, but we go to our favourite bakery for the large loaf of dense rye bread studded with sesame seeds. It's still hot. And we treaat ourselves to two koulouri, bagel shaped and similarly studded. Then Metro supermarket, now on Christmas hours so no early closing Saturday, and a quick stop at the market where we get a cauliflower and fresh figs, which I barely recognize, never having eaten them. Followed by a Greek coffee at Jimmy's corner café by the hairdresser's. Seems like we should be meeting Maggi and Magne here as we always used to.
Damp on the pavements and cloudy still, but we go to our favourite bakery for the large loaf of dense rye bread studded with sesame seeds. It's still hot. And we treaat ourselves to two koulouri, bagel shaped and similarly studded. Then Metro supermarket, now on Christmas hours so no early closing Saturday, and a quick stop at the market where we get a cauliflower and fresh figs, which I barely recognize, never having eaten them. Followed by a Greek coffee at Jimmy's corner café by the hairdresser's. Seems like we should be meeting Maggi and Magne here as we always used to.
Friday, December 10/2010
Unpacking and then a quick trip for more provisions. Not only Carrefour but also Smart and Elomas discount stores and Prinos greengrocers. All quite short walks, which will be handy. Unpacking always full of happy surprises as we find forgotten books or Christmas decorations - and in this case a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and three bottles of Cypriot brandy. J had wondered why the stored box was so heavy!
Terrific thunderstorm with much needed rain, but we are cosy inside with spaghetti sauce simmering. Discover that the rain has brought a ceiling link - downside to top floor living - but staff very concerned and we borrow a wash tub to catch the drips.
J comments on the appropriateness of the Greek name for bank - prominently posted on the many banks we pass - "trapeza."
Terrific thunderstorm with much needed rain, but we are cosy inside with spaghetti sauce simmering. Discover that the rain has brought a ceiling link - downside to top floor living - but staff very concerned and we borrow a wash tub to catch the drips.
J comments on the appropriateness of the Greek name for bank - prominently posted on the many banks we pass - "trapeza."
Thursday, December 9/2010
Up at 5, just before alarm. Good timing as the minicab arrives at 5:20, texting first to warn they're on the way. £20 to Heathrow 5, which is surprisingly good.
The flight is very quiet with the plane well under half full, so that anyone who wants two seats has them. A full English breakfast designed to last until supper, with wine later. Buy an international plug from duty free on board to replace the one left in Sousse. This one with USB charger connections.
The new airport in Larnaca is somewhat farther out than the old and the cabs are agreed that the price to the Sunflower is 15 euros. But we're travelling light so take the bus for a euro each, which takes us to Makarios Avenue, leaving quite a short walk to the Sunflower. A typical Cypriot welcome, with lots of warmth and a bit of confusion re length of stay and room, but soon sorted.
Fourth floor flat facing south, so lots of sun in the offing. And still time to nip over to Carrefour for some basics so we can make supper.
The flight is very quiet with the plane well under half full, so that anyone who wants two seats has them. A full English breakfast designed to last until supper, with wine later. Buy an international plug from duty free on board to replace the one left in Sousse. This one with USB charger connections.
The new airport in Larnaca is somewhat farther out than the old and the cabs are agreed that the price to the Sunflower is 15 euros. But we're travelling light so take the bus for a euro each, which takes us to Makarios Avenue, leaving quite a short walk to the Sunflower. A typical Cypriot welcome, with lots of warmth and a bit of confusion re length of stay and room, but soon sorted.
Fourth floor flat facing south, so lots of sun in the offing. And still time to nip over to Carrefour for some basics so we can make supper.
Wednesday, December 8/2010
Moving day again. Twenty Tunisian dinar left - pretty good - and make a fair trade at reception for 10 euro in change. They probably pleased to get rid of the coins. Time to book the seats for tomorrow's flight to Cyprus, bookable 24 hours in advance but not - never argue with a computer - 24 hours and one minute in advance. There's an hour time difference between Tunisia and the UK, so we cn book our 8:35 flight at 9:35. Then our 10:20 transfer arrives at 10:05 and we're off. About one and three quarter hours to tuis airport. Tunis itself has a particularly bad reputation for driving standards, but even on the motorway lanes are seen as a suggestion only, with many drivers straddling, and signalling lane changes apparently unheard of. It's easy to imagine missing the flight to become a reluctant witness to an accident.
This is not the EU or North America. No one at all interested in liquids being taken through security, including full bottle of water. (Interestingly, Israel, the gold standard for airport security, x-rays all luggage, including checked bags, as well as conducting personal interviews with those flying to Israel, but pays no attention to liuids. So one does wonder). A quiet flight with lots of space as we've booked the exit row seats. Sandwich and wine lunch.
Everything works very smoothly at Gatwick, though it's a first to see snow on landing here. Chilly on the train platform too. It's rush hour and crowded but we change to the tube at Farringdon, which takes us straight through to West Harrow on the Metropolitan.
Good to arrive early as it leaves us plenty of time to visit with Jean. Warm and cosy inside, and us spoiled with lovely Sri Lankan food. Nice to catch up on people and books. J's plumbing skills and bit of copper wire put to good use in repairs. I step on the bathroom scales. The readout says ERR. Error or a polite er, you really don't want to know?
This is not the EU or North America. No one at all interested in liquids being taken through security, including full bottle of water. (Interestingly, Israel, the gold standard for airport security, x-rays all luggage, including checked bags, as well as conducting personal interviews with those flying to Israel, but pays no attention to liuids. So one does wonder). A quiet flight with lots of space as we've booked the exit row seats. Sandwich and wine lunch.
Everything works very smoothly at Gatwick, though it's a first to see snow on landing here. Chilly on the train platform too. It's rush hour and crowded but we change to the tube at Farringdon, which takes us straight through to West Harrow on the Metropolitan.
Good to arrive early as it leaves us plenty of time to visit with Jean. Warm and cosy inside, and us spoiled with lovely Sri Lankan food. Nice to catch up on people and books. J's plumbing skills and bit of copper wire put to good use in repairs. I step on the bathroom scales. The readout says ERR. Error or a polite er, you really don't want to know?
Friday, 10 December 2010
Tuesday, December 7/2010
In the lobby Julia, one of the few English speakers here, tells us that the hotel is 99% sure to close in January, apparently for major renovations, as has happened with a hotel down the block. She's booked to return after Christmas but may end up at the Tej Marhaba. But yes, it's less cosmopolitan.
Attempt to confirm our airport transfers for tomorrow, in accordance with the instructions on the internet booking info saying that confirmation 24 hours in advance is COMPULSORY and VERY IMPORTANT and easy (no capitals here). We'd tried online last night, but the site simply advised us to try later. Call off and on through the day - regular and emergency numbers both unanswered. Turns out it's a statutory holiday. Try emailing the company headquarters, presumably in the UK. No one in the office until Thursday says the automated reply. Also celebrating Tunisian holiday? But about 4 pm there is an answer at the emergency number. Yes, yes. They'll be here tomorrow - 10:20. No problem.
Attempt to confirm our airport transfers for tomorrow, in accordance with the instructions on the internet booking info saying that confirmation 24 hours in advance is COMPULSORY and VERY IMPORTANT and easy (no capitals here). We'd tried online last night, but the site simply advised us to try later. Call off and on through the day - regular and emergency numbers both unanswered. Turns out it's a statutory holiday. Try emailing the company headquarters, presumably in the UK. No one in the office until Thursday says the automated reply. Also celebrating Tunisian holiday? But about 4 pm there is an answer at the emergency number. Yes, yes. They'll be here tomorrow - 10:20. No problem.
Monday, December 6/2010
We take a walk north along the beach to the Tej Marhaba, the hotel the Scottish couple told us about. It turns out to be an immense complex, including a shopping malland an indoor as well as outdoor pools. It takes a while to find reception, reached by an escalator and a glassed in corridor past pub and restaurants. The receptionists aren't eager to deal with us but consent to get a porter to show us a room. It's nice enough, though not, actually, as nice as our present one, and the sea view is a bit distant - a couple of blocks away rather than at the end of the garden. The porter asks us, in the lift, where we are staying now, and gives us a witheringly pitying look when we tell him. Not really justified, although the paint here is new enough you can smell it.
Its assets we know in advance - many more English speaking guests, quite a few of whom come every year, and better English television - CNN and a film chanel as well as BBC World. But we're not quite left wanting to move here. It's enormous and forms its own little world, much more isolated from the slightly seedy but very much alive surrounding Tunisian city than we'd prefer. Standing in the lobby, large as an upscale airport lounge, looking out over the sunbathers, you could be in any very big hotel anywhere - Prague, Helsinki, Pattaya. Sousse vanishes.
And we establish that there's no free wifi. What? Oh, weefee. No. Not in the rooms or the lobby. But in one of the cafés. At a price.We take a walk north along the beach to the Tej Marhaba, the hotel the Scottish couple told us about. It turns out to be an immense complex, including a shopping malland an indoor as well as outdoor pools. It takes a while to find reception, reached by an escalator and a glassed in corridor past pub and restaurants. The receptionists aren't eager to deal with us but consent to get a porter to show us a room. It's nice enough, though not, actually, as nice as our present one, and the sea view is a bit distant - a couple of blocks away rather than at the end of the garden. The porter asks us, in the lift, where we are staying now, and gives us a witheringly pitying look when we tell him. Not really justified, although the paint here is new enough you can smell it.
Its assets we know in advance - many more English speaking guests, quite a few of whom come every year, and better English television - CNN and a film chanel as well as BBC World. But we're not quite left wanting to move here. It's enormous and forms its own little world, much more isolated from the slightly seedy but very much alive surrounding Tunisian city than we'd prefer. Standing in the lobby, large as an upscale airport lounge, looking out over the sunbathers, you could be in any very big hotel anywhere - Prague, Helsinki, Pattaya. Sousse vanishes.
And we establish that there's no free wifi. What? Oh, weefee. No. Not in the rooms or the lobby. But in one of the cafés. At a price.
Its assets we know in advance - many more English speaking guests, quite a few of whom come every year, and better English television - CNN and a film chanel as well as BBC World. But we're not quite left wanting to move here. It's enormous and forms its own little world, much more isolated from the slightly seedy but very much alive surrounding Tunisian city than we'd prefer. Standing in the lobby, large as an upscale airport lounge, looking out over the sunbathers, you could be in any very big hotel anywhere - Prague, Helsinki, Pattaya. Sousse vanishes.
And we establish that there's no free wifi. What? Oh, weefee. No. Not in the rooms or the lobby. But in one of the cafés. At a price.We take a walk north along the beach to the Tej Marhaba, the hotel the Scottish couple told us about. It turns out to be an immense complex, including a shopping malland an indoor as well as outdoor pools. It takes a while to find reception, reached by an escalator and a glassed in corridor past pub and restaurants. The receptionists aren't eager to deal with us but consent to get a porter to show us a room. It's nice enough, though not, actually, as nice as our present one, and the sea view is a bit distant - a couple of blocks away rather than at the end of the garden. The porter asks us, in the lift, where we are staying now, and gives us a witheringly pitying look when we tell him. Not really justified, although the paint here is new enough you can smell it.
Its assets we know in advance - many more English speaking guests, quite a few of whom come every year, and better English television - CNN and a film chanel as well as BBC World. But we're not quite left wanting to move here. It's enormous and forms its own little world, much more isolated from the slightly seedy but very much alive surrounding Tunisian city than we'd prefer. Standing in the lobby, large as an upscale airport lounge, looking out over the sunbathers, you could be in any very big hotel anywhere - Prague, Helsinki, Pattaya. Sousse vanishes.
And we establish that there's no free wifi. What? Oh, weefee. No. Not in the rooms or the lobby. But in one of the cafés. At a price.
Sunday, December 5/2010
To 9:30 Mass at St. Félix Church, just beyond the train station. We're about ten minutes early, which turns out to be a good thing, as there are preliminaries: it's necessary to establish how many people understand each of various languages which may be used. There are quite a few putting their hands up for French - possibly including people whose first language it isn't. Quite a few also for German, a surprising number for Polish, a few English and fewer Italian. So the Mass is a mixture, with readings in various languages, singing in German and Latin, the body of the Mass in French and a sermon in both French and English. The explanatory bits before and after are repeated by the versatile priest in several languages. Impossible to tell what his mother tongue is, though it's something European. The English and French sermon is provided by his black assistant.
The congregation is surprisingly large - about 175 people. there are chairs for nearly 200 and benches along the side. No kneelers, though the more devout, mostly Poles, kneel regardless. Despite, or perhaps because of, the language difficulties, it's all over in forty-five minutes. Besides, an evangelical congregation of some description takes over the building at eleven.
Another trip to the souq. First a futile inquiry re a new clasp for J's gold chain. Forty dinar?! Not likely. We eventually fare slightly better on the purchase of a tin of shoe polish. Two dinar, the young man says. but, we protest, it's only one dinar at the Magasin Général. This seems to take the heart out of the bargaining, and we end up with the shoepolish and a reel of thread for a dinar.
There are four clocks in the Sousse Palace lobby, purporting to represent the times in Tunisia, London, New York and Tokyo. the hour hands are, of course, at four different points - but the minute hands are all set at different points as well.
While tables are not assigned, people do tend to adopt a usual spot and return to it. Interestingly, one older couple have opted to sit side by side rather than opposite each other. Their table is near one end of the room and their chosen seats give them a shared view of the room as stage, and it is a theatre of considerable comedy - from costume to food choices - and occasional bits of bravery and gallantry.
The congregation is surprisingly large - about 175 people. there are chairs for nearly 200 and benches along the side. No kneelers, though the more devout, mostly Poles, kneel regardless. Despite, or perhaps because of, the language difficulties, it's all over in forty-five minutes. Besides, an evangelical congregation of some description takes over the building at eleven.
Another trip to the souq. First a futile inquiry re a new clasp for J's gold chain. Forty dinar?! Not likely. We eventually fare slightly better on the purchase of a tin of shoe polish. Two dinar, the young man says. but, we protest, it's only one dinar at the Magasin Général. This seems to take the heart out of the bargaining, and we end up with the shoepolish and a reel of thread for a dinar.
There are four clocks in the Sousse Palace lobby, purporting to represent the times in Tunisia, London, New York and Tokyo. the hour hands are, of course, at four different points - but the minute hands are all set at different points as well.
While tables are not assigned, people do tend to adopt a usual spot and return to it. Interestingly, one older couple have opted to sit side by side rather than opposite each other. Their table is near one end of the room and their chosen seats give them a shared view of the room as stage, and it is a theatre of considerable comedy - from costume to food choices - and occasional bits of bravery and gallantry.
Saturday, December 4/2010
Brave the souq again. The young man selling pashminas gives us information on what to look for and, after considerable bargaiing we buy two from him - for only one dinar each more than they cost at the prix fixe shop on the edge of the medina. But he has kindly prepared us for this: You may see them at the prix fixe for one dinar less but (he spreads his hands and looks disdainful) consider the quality. Ah yes
Friday, December 3/2010
At the Magasin Général we are waiting to pay when the man ahead turns and asks "Canadian?". We congratulate him on his finely-tuned ear. The couple, Billy and Margaret, are Scots, and outside we chat for a few minutes. They come to Tunisia for three months every year and are staying near the far end of the beach, north of us, at the Tej Marhaba. They're happy there and say that there are quite a few other English speakers; Scots, Irish, Welsh and English, many of them returning year after year. And, like many others, they've found that they can winter in Tunisia more cheaply than they can stay home - in their case in Glasgow.
Sunday, 5 December 2010
Thursday, December 2/2010
This really is the day for El Djem (also googlable as El Jem, which produced a whole new set of hits). We take the 11:41 train from Sousse Ville station, a handy five minute walk from Sousse Palace Hotel. Deux billets, première classe. I can't remember the term for one way - but when we see the tickets it's printed on them - allée simple. First class costs a little more than standard but is more comfortable. We wait on the platform, watching a half dozen women and a man, all of them equipped with short picks, removing the weeds from the stones between the tracks. Must be a brutal job in the summer heat. How do other countries do this? A second man is repainting the white stripe along the platform edge, which we stop over when the train comes.
El Djem, a pleasant hour's worth of almost non-stop olive groves, with the occasional bit of plowed reddish earth and bits of what looks like tumbleweed. El Djem train station is a squared off white building with its name clearly written on it in roman as well as Arabic letters, so there's no mistaking it, and El Djem's world heritage prize can be seen clearly from the station. The amphitheatre that dominates the town is clearly visible so that no directions are necessary. But we decide to start with the museum, perhaps half a mile away and covered by the same admission ticket.
The museum is an excellent introduction to the history of El Djem, known as Thysdrus in the Roman period. It's also a world heritage site in its own right - an astonishing collection of mosaics, mostly from the third century. There are dozens of them, many of them enormous and amazingly complete. Some are geometric or with patterns of leaves or flowers, but most are complex scenes depicting gods and goddesses - the Dionysius figure is popular - or scenes of violence with animals such as lions and tigers. J is especially intrigued by a round inset of Apollo, looking much like a Christ figure with halo. There is a wide range of colours in use and quite sophisticated shading and three dimensional effects. In addition to the several rooms featuring mosaics on both walls and floors (as we feel guilty even walking and experience an Old Testament urge to remove our shoes) there is an entire house in situ on the excavation site, the foundations and floor mosaics (roped off in this case) original, but the walls extended up to give the original effect. Purple bougainvillea grow outside the white walls and catches the sunlight and we are, for much of the time, the only patrons there in the quiet autumn sun, unbelievably privileged as we look at leisure at these stunning mosaics nearly two thousand years old. And next to the house are the foundations of several more houses. The modern town of El Djem is built on top of the ancient one, and much of the Roman settlement must still be beneath the present shops and cafés. Unfortunately there is little to excavate from the previous Berber community from which Thysdrus took its name.
It's a ten minute walk to the amphitheatre which towers above the town. It is, as the book says, more impressive than the colosseum at Rome, on which it was modelled. It's slightly smaller than Rome's but a little more sophisticated in design and more complete as a ruin. It would be still more complete had it not been used a number of times in the town's rebellious history as a refuge for locals resisting invaders or defying the authorities who imposed heavy taxes. The latter, in 1695, breached the walls with cannon fire and later centuries saw further damage, following which the ruin supplied building material for local houses as well as Karouan's mosues. However what remains is still enormous. It originally seated 27 thousand to 30 thousand spectators, and a fair number of these seats have been replaced. It's also possible to walk, as we do, through the underground passages and the rooms used as cages for wild animals and storage for the corpses of gladiators. Here too we're almost alone and we climb well up
into the seating and sit for over an hour in the sunny silence, contemplating the rising tiers of arches opposite, watching the birds nesting in the pale amber rocks and listening to a rooster crowing in the town and pigeons cooing above us. We leave at sunset as the rock colour becomes deeper and richer in the final glow.
Our train doesn't leave until 7:15, so we wander about the town in the dusk, watching the bustle - vegetable markets (fennel bulbs and feathery tops, enormous half squashes, huge bunches of carrots), school children returning home, motorized bicycles buzzing past, men having coffee at the plastic tables outside the small cafés. Pharmacies (all goods behind the counters) and small and hardware shops (paint tins, tyres, rope and fuel pumps outside) abound and the streets are full of both pedestrians and cars - often very old Mercedes. The streetlights are widely spaced and glow in the dark. Near us a man in traditional Arab headdress sits on the hood of his car enjoying the social scene until his friend arrives and they drive off. Near our bench a café employee delivers coffee to a man in a parked car, collecting, as he does so, an empty cup left on the pavement's edge. A pickup truck is parked nearby with a donkey and a horse standing in the back, and a long bendy bus passes, young boys standing at the windows. It's happy and busy and no one pays us any attention. We're no longer tourists to be sold wares at inflated prices, just spectators at the theatre of life.
Our train arrives. We have - locals as well - been sent to the far track and recalled, a minute or two before it zooms in, to the near - a western stationmaster's nightmare. The "confort" class, half a dinar more for the two of us than premiere classe coming, looks remarkably like premiere classe, though it`s more crowded. We get the last two seats together, and this only because a young woman sitting opposite motions to the middle aged Tunisians sitting facing us, indicating that they should cease occupying four seats and give us space. With fairly ill grace the wife removes her stockinged feet from the seat opposite her and covers her face with a shawl, blocking out the sight of me. J sits across from her husband, who gathers in his water bottles and stares stolidly ahead. Our advocate resumes reading her paper back - Mille Soleils Splendides, the French translation of Khaled Hosseini's A Thousand Splendid Suns.
But it's only an hour's trip to Sousse, and by 8:20 we're back in the dining room, just in time for the end of the dinner period.
El Djem, a pleasant hour's worth of almost non-stop olive groves, with the occasional bit of plowed reddish earth and bits of what looks like tumbleweed. El Djem train station is a squared off white building with its name clearly written on it in roman as well as Arabic letters, so there's no mistaking it, and El Djem's world heritage prize can be seen clearly from the station. The amphitheatre that dominates the town is clearly visible so that no directions are necessary. But we decide to start with the museum, perhaps half a mile away and covered by the same admission ticket.
The museum is an excellent introduction to the history of El Djem, known as Thysdrus in the Roman period. It's also a world heritage site in its own right - an astonishing collection of mosaics, mostly from the third century. There are dozens of them, many of them enormous and amazingly complete. Some are geometric or with patterns of leaves or flowers, but most are complex scenes depicting gods and goddesses - the Dionysius figure is popular - or scenes of violence with animals such as lions and tigers. J is especially intrigued by a round inset of Apollo, looking much like a Christ figure with halo. There is a wide range of colours in use and quite sophisticated shading and three dimensional effects. In addition to the several rooms featuring mosaics on both walls and floors (as we feel guilty even walking and experience an Old Testament urge to remove our shoes) there is an entire house in situ on the excavation site, the foundations and floor mosaics (roped off in this case) original, but the walls extended up to give the original effect. Purple bougainvillea grow outside the white walls and catches the sunlight and we are, for much of the time, the only patrons there in the quiet autumn sun, unbelievably privileged as we look at leisure at these stunning mosaics nearly two thousand years old. And next to the house are the foundations of several more houses. The modern town of El Djem is built on top of the ancient one, and much of the Roman settlement must still be beneath the present shops and cafés. Unfortunately there is little to excavate from the previous Berber community from which Thysdrus took its name.
It's a ten minute walk to the amphitheatre which towers above the town. It is, as the book says, more impressive than the colosseum at Rome, on which it was modelled. It's slightly smaller than Rome's but a little more sophisticated in design and more complete as a ruin. It would be still more complete had it not been used a number of times in the town's rebellious history as a refuge for locals resisting invaders or defying the authorities who imposed heavy taxes. The latter, in 1695, breached the walls with cannon fire and later centuries saw further damage, following which the ruin supplied building material for local houses as well as Karouan's mosues. However what remains is still enormous. It originally seated 27 thousand to 30 thousand spectators, and a fair number of these seats have been replaced. It's also possible to walk, as we do, through the underground passages and the rooms used as cages for wild animals and storage for the corpses of gladiators. Here too we're almost alone and we climb well up
into the seating and sit for over an hour in the sunny silence, contemplating the rising tiers of arches opposite, watching the birds nesting in the pale amber rocks and listening to a rooster crowing in the town and pigeons cooing above us. We leave at sunset as the rock colour becomes deeper and richer in the final glow.
Our train doesn't leave until 7:15, so we wander about the town in the dusk, watching the bustle - vegetable markets (fennel bulbs and feathery tops, enormous half squashes, huge bunches of carrots), school children returning home, motorized bicycles buzzing past, men having coffee at the plastic tables outside the small cafés. Pharmacies (all goods behind the counters) and small and hardware shops (paint tins, tyres, rope and fuel pumps outside) abound and the streets are full of both pedestrians and cars - often very old Mercedes. The streetlights are widely spaced and glow in the dark. Near us a man in traditional Arab headdress sits on the hood of his car enjoying the social scene until his friend arrives and they drive off. Near our bench a café employee delivers coffee to a man in a parked car, collecting, as he does so, an empty cup left on the pavement's edge. A pickup truck is parked nearby with a donkey and a horse standing in the back, and a long bendy bus passes, young boys standing at the windows. It's happy and busy and no one pays us any attention. We're no longer tourists to be sold wares at inflated prices, just spectators at the theatre of life.
Our train arrives. We have - locals as well - been sent to the far track and recalled, a minute or two before it zooms in, to the near - a western stationmaster's nightmare. The "confort" class, half a dinar more for the two of us than premiere classe coming, looks remarkably like premiere classe, though it`s more crowded. We get the last two seats together, and this only because a young woman sitting opposite motions to the middle aged Tunisians sitting facing us, indicating that they should cease occupying four seats and give us space. With fairly ill grace the wife removes her stockinged feet from the seat opposite her and covers her face with a shawl, blocking out the sight of me. J sits across from her husband, who gathers in his water bottles and stares stolidly ahead. Our advocate resumes reading her paper back - Mille Soleils Splendides, the French translation of Khaled Hosseini's A Thousand Splendid Suns.
But it's only an hour's trip to Sousse, and by 8:20 we're back in the dining room, just in time for the end of the dinner period.
Wednesday, December 1/2010
The plan was to go to El Djem today, but it's quite windy and overcast and one of the conflicting forecasts is for rain, wo we decide to postpone. After which it does rain here, though pretty briefly. Discover, in the process of checking the weather, that the wifi is good as far as the corridor outside our room. In fact it's good inside our room (with only a few lapses) if you sit on the luggage rack just inside the door - but no further.
Afternoon trip to the souq. I'm not really tough enough for it. Although another way to look at it is that the sellers are too aggressive for their own good, leaving one walking away from things that one is actually interested in buying rather than be bruised by the process. And interest is pretty hard to disguide from these experts, alert to the slightest flicker of the gaze. For the first time I find myself wishing I were cross-eyed. One of the most irritating factors is the rhetoric, which is essentially that used to discipline recalcitrant children: Why won't you answer me - Look at me when you speak - I asked you a question. The tone is a bit better than the words, but it's a relentless onslaught. The actual establishing of price is the least unpleasant aspect. The shopkeepers have discovered that the most effective means of selling is to establish a supposed relationship, in the pursuit of which they ask endless questions or even resort to physical touch as you pass their shops - where are you from, etc. On the other hand, there is some humour to be found. Several will open with "only five dinar" ($3.50 CAD, £2.10) as they gesture grandly at a rack of large leather handbags. It won`t be, of course, but it's an amusing staart.
The ice and snow continue to assail Europe and we note that Gatwick is closed until "at least Thursday morning". Well, it's another week until we fly there.
Afternoon trip to the souq. I'm not really tough enough for it. Although another way to look at it is that the sellers are too aggressive for their own good, leaving one walking away from things that one is actually interested in buying rather than be bruised by the process. And interest is pretty hard to disguide from these experts, alert to the slightest flicker of the gaze. For the first time I find myself wishing I were cross-eyed. One of the most irritating factors is the rhetoric, which is essentially that used to discipline recalcitrant children: Why won't you answer me - Look at me when you speak - I asked you a question. The tone is a bit better than the words, but it's a relentless onslaught. The actual establishing of price is the least unpleasant aspect. The shopkeepers have discovered that the most effective means of selling is to establish a supposed relationship, in the pursuit of which they ask endless questions or even resort to physical touch as you pass their shops - where are you from, etc. On the other hand, there is some humour to be found. Several will open with "only five dinar" ($3.50 CAD, £2.10) as they gesture grandly at a rack of large leather handbags. It won`t be, of course, but it's an amusing staart.
The ice and snow continue to assail Europe and we note that Gatwick is closed until "at least Thursday morning". Well, it's another week until we fly there.
Tuesday, November 30/2010
Feel unduly spoiled here when we look at the temperatures elsewhere - though not Cyprus where the highs are still in the mid-twenties, and where we'll be in another nine days. Northern Europe is pretty cold, though, with parts of Scotland going as low as -20 and hundreds of schools closed, not by the cold but by snowfalls as great as 16 inches. The Telegraph online shows a very Canadian looking selection of UK photos this morning. BBC online features advice on driving on snow and ice to a readership few of whom would ever have seen snow tyres.
Drink the cheaper bottle of Tunisian - and are delighted to find it's much the better of the two.
Drink the cheaper bottle of Tunisian - and are delighted to find it's much the better of the two.
Wednesday, 1 December 2010
Monday, November 29/2010
The walkway along the beach is lovely - wide decorated paving with plenty of room for several people walking abreast, with a huge stretch of fine sand beach and the Mediterranean on the east and the Corniche, with small cars, taxis and (patronised by tourists only) horse drawn calèches decorated with plastic flowers. There's also a little story-book "train" which will take people up to the Port El Kantaoui hotels just north of Sousse. In summer the beaches must be full but now there's plenty of space and the woven coconut matting beach umbrellas are left unattended, though mostly there are no sun loungers either - it's bring your own towel. Certainly warm enough, though. Every day it's been over 20in the shade and much warmer in the sun. There are a couple of families here with small children today, and one day we saw a diver emerge with a water-shiny octopus.
There's a rather different range of juices here. Thus we find, amongst the fruit concentrates, a cloudy lemon and almond mixture which proves delicious mixed with either water or vodka.
There's a rather different range of juices here. Thus we find, amongst the fruit concentrates, a cloudy lemon and almond mixture which proves delicious mixed with either water or vodka.
Sunday, November 28/2010
Hard to believe this is our last full week in Tunisia. Time to start thinking of side trips. Sousse is a good place to use as a base. It's not only on the long railway line that extends from Tunis to the south, but the station is in the city centre, only a couple of blocks from our hotel. It could hardly be more convenient.
Have begun reading John Mortimer's memoir - Clinging to the Wreckage. As entertaining as Mortimer usually is. Interestingly though, Wikipedia mentions that he was asked to leave Oxford after his second year as a result of a compromising leter sent to a sixth form schoolboy. Mortimer does reefer to emerging from a schooldays world of vague homosexual romance, but neglects to mention going down from Oxford prematurely.
Strong winds today, but surprisingly warm ones. The temperature is 18 when we get up and rises slightly during the day. The palm tree by our balcony is four storeys high, but while its fronds whip round its trunk scarcely moves. It must have an amazing root system - like an iceberg's underwater bulk.
Have begun reading John Mortimer's memoir - Clinging to the Wreckage. As entertaining as Mortimer usually is. Interestingly though, Wikipedia mentions that he was asked to leave Oxford after his second year as a result of a compromising leter sent to a sixth form schoolboy. Mortimer does reefer to emerging from a schooldays world of vague homosexual romance, but neglects to mention going down from Oxford prematurely.
Strong winds today, but surprisingly warm ones. The temperature is 18 when we get up and rises slightly during the day. The palm tree by our balcony is four storeys high, but while its fronds whip round its trunk scarcely moves. It must have an amazing root system - like an iceberg's underwater bulk.
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