Tuesday, April 17/2012

The forecast is for showers, but they space themselves pretty conveniently. we do a bit of outdoor exploration. Bentinck Street, parallel to OxfordStreet, has been home to quite a few notable people, though it`s a very short street. Anthony Blunt and Guy Burgess lived at number 5 at one point. It`s still there but shrouded as the renovation works are in progress. Gibbon wrote Decline and Fall at number 7 (unlike the spies`abode it`s marked with a blue plaque). chopin lived briefly at number 10, and Dickens for a time at number 18. The interior of number 18 is gone - totally demolished - but the facade is still standing, awaiting a new building to face.

A few blocks away, on Wimpole Street we spot the building where the young Paul McCartney lived above his then girlfriend`s family. We`ve read that Lennon wrote I Want to Hold Your Hand in the basement. Wimpole street is more famous, of course, as the place where Elizabeth Barrett lived before being rescued by, and married to, robert Browning the house is no longer there, but a plaque marks the place where it stood.

we`re very close to the Wallace Collection, so, after a quick look inside St James`s Catholic Church, Spanish Place, we go to visit it. It`s in a remarkable place. The house, originally a private home, holds the collection of five generations of the same family. It rivals many national galleries in both the quantity and the quality of the paintings, an amazing classical collection. It`s known for Hals`painting of The Laughing Cavalier. It`s an intriguing portrait, and the subject has a very modern face, apart from the period moustache. He`s not actually laughing, though. It`s a knowing smile - one of shared irony or even assignation.

Our last stop in the area is number 34 Montague Square. It`s supposed to be where Ringo Starr had a flat. We`re surprised to see a blue plaque, as they`re not awarded to the living - but when we get closer we see that John Lennon lived there as well for a time in the sixties.

We`re tired and getting hungry, so get a bus on Baker Street that`s headed to Waterloo. It`s slow moving, but that does give us time to focus where we might not otherwise. we`re parked in a jam on Regent Street when we see a round green plaque marking Lord Stanley`s purchase from a silversmith on this site, of a silver cup "for the people of Canada to commemorate amateur and professional hockey." It`s been a while since amateurs had a crack at it. J thinks the last may have been the Kenora Thistles.

From Waterloo by tube and Docklands Light Railway and to Greenwich, where we stop at our second Oxfam charity shop of the day. The first was on Marylebone Lane - a huge one dedicated to books and music. this one is all books as well, and there are some we'd really like to have, including a signed one by Roy Hattersley. but they're too big and heavy, and reluctantly we leave them.

What we've really come for is our second visit to Goddard's pie shop. this time we have the crumble - J apple and I rhubarb. Still the best, with the custard filling the bowl and the soup plaate in which the bowl sits. It's been six years since they closed in Greenwich but the crumble hasn't changed. This is it. We can barely finish it - and the girl had said to come back if we wanted more custard. Two pounds seventy (three euros six, $4.32), tax included. Amazing.

Stop at Crossharbour, thinking as usual of Conrad Black - Lord Black of Crossharbour. will he ever come back? Buy a top up for the UK mobile. Then home.

Monday, April 16/2012

To the Courtauld Institute in the morning as itès free until 2pm on Mondays. We start with the late medieval room. Interesting the traditions in painting infants - so many of them are ugly and, stranger, they often look like miniature adults. It's not that the artists  had never seen a baby or that they weren't able to draw well - so what was the statement?  There are some beautiful altar pieces  here as well, andsome lovely ivory miniatures.

The second floor has quite a number of Rubens' works. He's a much more varied painter than we'd realised. A landscape looks quite unlike the portraits, and J points out that his work changed after he'd been to Italy and come under the influence of Italian Renaissance painters. The top floor has old friends as well, like Manet's Bar at the Folies Bergère. There are a few Dégas works that we think of as typical, as well as a quite shocking painting of a woman in a window. Well, the story is shocking. Dégas painted it during the Siege of Paris and paid the model with a chunk of meat which she fell on immediately and ate raw. There is a special Mondrian exhibition on, but we`re not really Mondrian fans - and we`re full up. J disappointed that Blunt's living quarters are not on display.

Catch up time at our Starbucks office, while J takes a long walk in Hyde Park. Really this is a pleasant place to work. Comfortable chairs and I like the music. Decide to eat supper in the room and go in to Tesco just as they`re marking down - delicious couscous and chicken salads, a prawn sandwich, and fruit cups all for about a pound and a half. We get cherry tomatoes and oranges as well. A lovely supper in with the telly.

Sunday, April 15/2012

The Chinese Grand Prix is on BBC1 with coverage beginning at 7, so we watch.  J wisely gets up but I watch from bed, which means I sleep through the first part. Exciting win for Nico Rosberg.

We'd thought about going to Petticoat Lane street market this morning but there's a bitterly cold wind (though it's sunny) so we start thinking indoor thoughts. Go down to Bayswater Road to catch a bus to Euston Road for the Wellcome Collection. And we're immediately diverted into further outdoor walking, as almost the whole of Bayswater Road, on the Hyde Park side, has become a free Sunday gallery - the longest, it says, in the world. We're not seriously tempted to buy, but it's fun and the offerings are quite varied - London scenes, abstracts, flowers, traditional pub signs, and some witty drawings. Back on the bus and - with a brief practical shopping stop on Oxford Street - over to the Wellcome.

The exhibition is on the human brain. There are posters about the city advertising it, including one mentioning vinegar and brown paper as an old headache cure, which stirs a memory in my mind of the seldom quoted second verse of the nursery rhyme Jack and Jill:

Then up Jack got and home did trot 
As fast as he could caper.
Went to bed and wrapped his head
In vinegar and brown paper.

Hadn't thought of that in years. The exhibit has models and videos and historicl material. There are several references to the pioneering work of a Dr Cushing, including one article that mentions his mentor, the Canadian Sir William Osler. Osler was also the mento of Dr Wilder Penfield, the neurosurgeon who operated on my paternal grandfather in the 1930's.

Back to Chapel Market in Islington and the Indian Veg restaurant for another vegan buffet. then home to read our fat Sunday Times.


 

Saturday, April 14/2012

By tube to Jean's for a chat and tea before going to Shanthi's where we've been invited to tea in honour of Tamil New Year. Shanthi's friend Shirley (from Singapore - knkown her ever since she was born) is here with her two daughters, Laura - enjoying her first job with a PR firm - and kSophie - aged 12. And shanthi's daughter Priya is here of course - her time now split getting retail experience with Abercrombie and Fitch and with Calvin Klein. We're all impressed with the jewellery the latter gives her to wear in her job at Brent Cross Mall.

We begin with Asian sweets - with Tamil names we don't quite get. There's a golden soft crumbly dough, almond flavoured sweets, and crispy deep fried ones. Then to the dining table where we have a hot noodle dish, tuna sandwiches, fried chicken legs, mutton rolls (delicious, like spicy spring rolls with a lamb filling and a slightly crunchy exterior) and cake and tea. A Singapore high tea, the girls recognize. Shanthi urges more, but we're all happily full. Lovely visit.

Jean drops us near Rayer's Lane tube station - and in front of a grocery shop that sells Turkish products and J is delighted to find packets of the Turkish red pepper (biber) flakes that he loves.

Friday, April 13/2012

Lucky draw from the hat of possibilities on Friday the thirteenth. We decide to go to Hogarth's  house in Chiswick. bit of a walk from Turnham Green station, but an interesting one through Chiswick, now a part of London but in the 18th century, when hogarth lived here, a town on the Thames well outside London. It still has a bit of a village feeling to it, though the house is situated on Hogarth Lane, which is a lane in name only. It's a dual carriageway which becomes, a little to the west, the M4 . There are paintings here that show it as it once was, though - a country lane.

The real fun in the place, though, is the engravings, someof which are the originals. satirical, indiscreet, and as busy as a giles cartoon. The Rake's Progress with the weeping pregnant fiancée in the doorway. And all the peripheral characters, like the chimney sweep poking his head out the chimney, the syphillitic child, or the monkey in the corner peeing into a helmet. There are dark themes but very funny caricatures illustrating them. I've always wanted a copy of Gin Lane, and they do have the posters, but no tubes. So we opt for Hogarth placemats instead.

We're a ten minute walk from St Nicholas Church where Hogarth and his wife and sisters are buried, so we go over to look. The church is a nineteenth century rebuild but the tower is fifteenth century and the records go back to the twelfth century. The assumption is that there was originally a Saxon church on the site. We're fortunate to meet one of the wardens in the churchyard, who shows us the Hogarth tomb and also points us to where Whistler and his wife are buried. The latter is an interesting tomb with resin figures at the corners replacing original and replacement bronze ones - both sets having been stolen.

Round the corner from the church is the George and Devonshire, a Chiswick pub dting back to the 1650's. In fact it's the only pub left of the original Chiswick village establishments. We stop for half pints of the Fuller's Pride brewed locally. There have been some changes in decor over time. The jukebox style gambling apparatus with flashing lights isn't period. The fireplace may be original but the empty Pinot Giorgio bottles on it are a late and fairly unimpressive addition. Historically the pub had a smugglers' tunnel leading to the Thames and apparently the steps leading to it are still there in the cellar.

Dinner is in Islington - a place I've found googling. It's a real keeper. Indian Veg on Chapel Market, just north of the Angel station. It's quirky and friendly. The walls are covered with vegetarian facts, figures and advice. Small tables with tablecloths and a sign announcing that you're welcome to bring your own wine without corkage fee. (All right. I confess that I googled "very cheap" and "no corkage.") But it's wonderful. an absolutely delicious eat all you like vegan buffet. It's amazing, healthy - and f£4.95 a person.

Home by tube. At Bayswater Station an underground worker with a brush is busy sweeping up what turns out to be large white dominoes from the stairs.

Thursday, April 12/2012

To HSBC to sort things out. A separate method of having the cards verified by Visa, which makes them usable online, but is becoming a pain. The young man does give Joe a little key for generating access numbers as well, though.

In the afternoon to Chris Mullin's play A Walk-On Part: The Fall of New Labour. It's at the Soho Theatre, which is small, seating about 150 in the upstairs theatre. The seats are comfortable, but more or less cushioned benches with backs - but no arms, allowing more people to be squeezed in. Works nicely for this play though, as it mirrors the seating in the British House of Commons. The seating isn't assigned and we're there early enough to get centre front, a highly desirable location in this intimate theatre because we're seated at stage level.

The play is heavily based on Mullin's political diaries, one of which we've recently read, and covers his 23 years as a labour MP, endiing with his resignation at the time of the last election. It's very funny, often very indiscreet, occasionally poignant. And there's absolutely no downtime - no looking at your watch or wondering where to go for dinner. There are only five actors - one to play Mullin and four (two men and two women) to play all the rest, and they're very good. No props other than straight backed chairs and a screen at  the back of the stage that serves, variously, as window on the House, photos of politicians and announcement of dates. The script itself is good - the best bits culled from the diaries, but the facial expressions and body anguage are wonderful. Amazing that the same person (Hywel Morgan) can play Tony Blair - brilliantly - and Tony Benn (amongst others) convincingly. Or, as in the third male character (Howard Ward), John Prescott and George Bush. John Hodgkison as Mullin, is impressively energetic and witty. The audience loves it.

Back to Roses (apostrophe not forgotten - it's as in flowers not as in belonging to Rose) on Kilburn High Road for lamb kleftiko (a whole leg and beautifully done with roast potatoes and 2 veg) and spaghetti bolgnese. A bit busier tonight but probably entirely people living within a mile or two of the restaurant. As far as we can make out, the specials aren't special in price but are guaranteed to be something they have. They're a bit like a Polish restaurant menu in that the meny lists all the dishes they ever have and you have to ask what is available. But then all the prices are astonishingly good anyway.

Wednesday, April 11/2012

Observation on public transportation: young white men are theleast likely people to give up their seats to the elderly - or to me, not that I require it. I do have seats offered tome more than in previous years though, for whatever reason. The most likely to give up seats are Asian men of almost any age, followed by young Middle Eastern men and young Asian women, followed (at some distance) by young white women. Observations unscientific but accurate, I think.

Tube to Camden Town and then bus to Hampstead Heath, as we've noted that our one year tickets to Keats House expire on Sunday. the house is the one Keats lived in with a friend just before his final illness sent him to Italy in search of a warm climate and a cure. His fiancée, Fanny, lived in the other half of the house, since made into one. Even though we've been before, it's a moving experience, and interesting too for things like the 18th century kitchen and the sole water supply from a cistern on the roof to a lead sink. Add this to a diet which seemed to consist mostly of meat and white bread (vegetables having only recently been declared not dangerous) and it's hardly surprising that so many people succumbed to disease, quite apart from the lack of modern medicine.

Supper at an Asian buffet by the Kilburn High Road tube station. Not exciting, but not at all bad. Chicken satay very nice. Spring rolls and samosas pretty useless.

Last bit home is the tube from Notting Hill Gate to Bayswater. A man gets into our carriage and grabs three abandoned Evening Standards. He's not quite quick enough to jump off before the doors close, so, having been obliged to come to Bayswater, he alights and rummages through two litter bins, retrieving several more copies of the Evening Standard to add to at lest ten in his bag. J suggests that he may want extra copies of a particular article, and it's plausible, but the paper is distributed free and theman looks obsessed.

Tuesday, April 10/2012

Check out the Notting Hill pub Harry took us to many years ago. We find it on Campden Hill Road. too early in the day now, but marked down for future reference.

By tube to connect with Dockland Light Railway. when we get off to change at Bank St they're announcing delays on the Central line, which we've just left, as there's a person under a train at the west end of the line. This is not an uncommon occurrence, usually suicide of course.

We're off to Greenwich again. This time we have an agenda, but it takes us a while to reach the National Maritime Museum. On the way, we detour through the Old Royal Naval College. The painted hall is impressive trompe d'oeuil, looking three dimensional, and dates from the beginning of the 18th century, or at least the painting does. there's a small room off the painted hall where Lord Nelson's coffin lay before the official lying in state.

But the greater interest today is in what's going on outside the Naval College. As we're heading towards the college we first spot a man in the distance crossing a square wearing pre Vatican II ecclesiastical robes. Then we see a great many trailers as well as people in period costume. And finally, most impressively, an absolutely enormous statue, much larger than life size, of an elephant. It's a film shoot, of course.  Turns out they're shooting Les Miserables. Though how the elephant fits in....

Then to the National Maritime Museum and the agenda.  J is looking for a large model of the Uganda, a ship that he took students on for one year's Mediterranean cruise.  It was later used in the Falkland War as a hospital ship - andwe did see the model on a previous visit.  But everything is in flux here and Olympic oriented, and the Uganda is no longer on display.

I've also come with a question.  My 6x great grandparents emigrated fro Germany via Rotterdam in 1709.  This was part of a scheme for acquiring labourers in the New World on behalf of the English navy.  The reward was English citizenship.  Between leaving Rotterdam and sailing to New York, the emigrants spent the winter of 1709 in England.  There were three caps - at Deptford, Camberwell and Blackheath, and I'm hoping to learn their locations.  The short answer is "lots of luck."

So we drift along to some of Greenwich's other charms.  The halcyon Bookshop has most of its books selling for a pound. At first we assume that the shop has been abandoned, misled by sacks of books blocking the aisles and heaps of them cascading onto the floor.  But no, it's open, and we browse for a while through the unsorted shelves.  Then, a few doors up the road, there's the Junk Shop. It's a series of tiny rooms, on two levels, with an uncountable number of old things.  Some possibly antique, many period or collectible, some more or less junk.  And there are thousands of them, from books to jewellery to kitsch to poison bottles (for holding poisonous contents, one assumes). Fascinating.

We finish up at Goddard's pie shop, now officially open, having chicken and mushroom pies with mash and gravy. Can't hold the desserts. Are the pies the same as we remember? Is the plate smaller, the scrubbed wood tables gone? Not sure, but the pies are good and at similar price to the ones we remember.

Monday, April 9/2012

Morning trip to the British Library, chosen for its proximity to the tube station - rain doesn't matter much. The BL has two of the four copies of the Magna Carta in existence, so we focus there. In the afternoon check out the theatre listings from the comfort of Starbucks. It's pretty full. The man next to me has taken off his shoes, leaving grubby feet on the cold floor. Looks like he's here for the duration. But we do find a free plug. Then down to the Soho theatre off Oxford St to get tickets for Chris Mullin's A Walk On Part - The Fall of New Labour. Mullin was a Labour backbencher and we've just finished reading and enjoying one of his political diaries - A View from the Foothills. This play is unique in that it actually played once at the House of Commons, at the invitation of the Speaker.

There's a small bit of comedy as we leave the theatre. We're approached by a cheerful man bearing copies of the Big Issue, the magazine produced and sold by the unemployed. "It's your lucky day," he begins. "Because I'm not selling anything." Naturally we're intrigued. "I'm accepting donations for me to have a beer on my way home." Ear to eear grin. "It's St Alan's Day. We confess that we haven't heard of St Alan but he's sure, and not a bit abashed. I fish in my pocket. "Would 20 p be of any help?" "Yes, indeed." So off he goes, and we're still chuckling a block later.

Finish up with a meal at Roses on Kilburn High Road. Unlike some of the pubs, they are indeed doing food today. And every day. It's a small restaurant with a laarge menu and huge portions. Excellent food and quiet local clientele. We opt for two courses and then begin to question our wisdom. J's chicken and broccoli fettucine is delicious and substantial and my fish and chips enormous. The fish fillet ust be 18 inches long. J says maybe 20. It's also cooked to perfection, which must have involved keeping the tail end out initially. J, who inherits more than half of it, says it's probably the best cooked deep fried fish he's eaten - and he's a very good fish fryer himself. We shouldn't be able to hold the apple pie and custard, but  it's good and we do. Total price, with large mugs of tea, £14.50 (€17.69, $22.91). Tax included, and we shouldn't have to eat for days. 

Sunday, April 8/2012

Relatively early, if drizzly, Easter start, as the rail lines are full of engineering works, buses replacing trains, etc. work out a plan to go via Wimbledon instead of Waterloo, which looks muchmore efficient, so we pick up bunches of narcissi from the little flower market outside the pub on the corner and head off. At Wimbledon we transfer to a bus replacing a train at an unmarked bus stop. Does he go to Thames Ditton (as promised by National Rail website)? No, we'll have to change at Surbiton. Well, it's wwell along the way. Walkable from there in a inch. And if the second bus were as slow as the first walking would have been attractive. The only other passenger is a girl who makes repeated phone calls - "I have the sugar but I'm on a bus that's moving like a snail." In Kingston we pass the cattle market car park twice. Is it different entrances or are we circling? Jenny remembers when she was a child and it actually was a cattle market.

But we arrive, and without being rained on. Lovelly Easter brunch. Jenny and Doug have the perfect dining table. It seems to seat an infinite number - fourteen of us here anyway - Laura and the boys, Emma and Giles and their girls, Jenny's mother and aunt, as well as Jenny, Doug and us. Jasmine 9aged 3) has helped to make the Middle Eastern date rings. Jenny's grandmother was Palestinian Christian and so are some of the recipes. The coloured eggs are hard-boiled and we play a traditional family game where we tap ends of our eggs with the others to see if anyone ends up with an uncracked egg. Cody (also aaged 3) is too young to remember last Easter but emerges with a winning egg.

After brunch there's an Easter egg hunt for the children in the garden - chocolate eggs this time. The dogs, who would have been happy to help, have been penned but watch with keen interest. Doug's sister Kathleen and her husband arrive, so we stay to say hello bud then head off.

Just as well we didn't go earlier as the earlier bus didn't come - we're informed by a man waiting for t?) he 3:40 along with us. We chat. He's been to Canada in the 70's when he (or his band?) toured with Nazareth. Home trip smooth - and back with the Sunday Times, more than a day`s read.

Saturday, April 7/2012

Re-establish the Starbucks Office. Not bad - good coffee, comfortable chairs next to plugs for the computer, and nobody hurrying you. and open on a long weekend when the library isn't.


down to the British Museum. It's holiday crowded so we do our usual - opt for a look at one area we haven't visited before, in this case Assyria, about 8th to 9th century BC. First of all I have to ask J where Assyria was when it was at home - answer, more or less Iraq. there are very Egyptian looking statues, including huge (12 foot high?) lions with human heads that once guarded a palace entrance. Also a large number of elaborately carved stone wall panels that lined palace walls and were inexpertly removed to be taken to another palace some 2700 years ago. They've been amazingly well restored though, and record past battles, domestic life, royal life etc, both in pictures and in extensive writing.


Try to check out the Mary Ward Centre near Russell Square. It's an educational facility, but with a good gallery and café - unfortunately closed for the Easter break. Stop off in Camden town. Then pub supper and home with fat weekend paper to read. We`ve missed the Oxford and Cambridge boat race and it was dramatic. Interrupted by a swimmer protesting elitism. A radio 4 presenter refers to it drily as a "race hate crime."

Friday, April 6/2012

Tube system a bit altered for the weekend, though not badly. Down to Earl's Court for a wander round. Nothing looks especially new and interesting. Warm on the sunny side of the street. In the afternoon we go to Trafalgar Square where there's a re-enactment of the crucifixion scheduled. cast not of thousands, but of 100 plus. We do wait quite a while for it to start, but the people watching is good. The squarae is crowded, with tourists mainly. It's sunny and there are buskers - a girl playing the violin and men being living statues - one all silver and one gold. The gold sttue wanders back to the National Gallery for a smoke break, beaked mask removed, before heading back to his pedestal. There's some technical problem and they explain the play will have to restart. we've been here for about an hour enjoying the crowd, but we can't really see the stage - just the screen - so this is our exit cue.

Up by Leicester Square, in the process of being revamped (the square, not us). it's supposed to reopen this month, but if the loud drilling and the mess is any indication the target is optimistic. Through china town and down to Covent Garden. St. Paul's, the Actors' Church, there has a vigil Mass scheduled for 9 tomorrow evening to be followed by a "Resurrection Party". Sounds like a brilliant idea but 9 is a bit late for the start,not just for us pensioners but for the tube system if it's a post-midnight finish.

Thursday, April 5/2012

Walk across Hyde Park and along to the royal Albert Hall to buy tickets for a Proms style concert on April 22, our last day here.

In the afternoon out to Jean's in West Harrow. We take her the Benn diary (hard cover) and the four books of the Raj Quartet, so things should be much lighter now, although the Jaworskis, like nature, seem to fill any vacuum when travelling.

Samosas and other Indian appetizers from Jean's handy off licence. We chat until Shanthi joins us after work and then have a lovely curry meal that Jean has made  - lamb, leeks, sweeet potato, green beans, salad, dhal and beautiful fragrant rice. Followed by apple crumble and custard. We won't need to eat again for days. Beautiful meal! Before we know it it's after ten and we're on the tube back.

Wednesday, April 4/2012

Walking dowon queensway when someone hands me a card in English and Arabic suggesting I consult Yasmina at the Psychic Mews. But we pass up the opportunity to see  the crystal ball read and take the Docklands Light Railway to Greenwich.Takes almost no time to find Goddard's pie shop. It's a shop that's been in the same family  in Greenwich for over a hundred years. They closed a few years ago and went into wholesale, but had always intended to reopen locally and they're about to - tomorrow. We peek through the window - the menu and pries ook pretty much like the old place and it's just the other side of the square.

We also check out the market. It's not the seething place of weekends, but there are a number of stalls open, including one manned by a philosopher who asks if you're willing to draw a philosophical question out of a hat and discuss it. Mine is "Is there such a thing as nothing?" So we do discuss it for a bit. There's a pythonesque aspect to it all, but fun.

Past the Cutty Sark, which is in the final stages of restoration after a fire five years back. There are literally miles (11 of them) of rigging on the 46 metre high mast and the gilt trim gleams. It was a record setter for speed in 1885 - Sydney to London in 67 days. Royal reopening sheduled for the end of the month.

To Kilburn for a meal. Seems a bit odd as we leave the tube station and are handed cards advertising Duke's Comedy Club by a young man saying brightly "Stand up comedy on Good Friday." Down to the Old Bell for vegetable curries and an ale from the April guest ale list - Cumberland.

Tuesday, April 3/2012

Reacquainting ourselves with our part of London. And down to HSBC to try to sort out the retistration for online purchases. Lovely girl called Emily gives me two pages of directions and a nice little gadget for generating sign on numbers.

Up to Camden High Street. Hot cross buns are on sale everywhere. Marks and Sparks are the best.

Monday, April 2/2012

We're at the bus stop with our suitcases when a taxi pulls up and the driver says "five euros to the airport." Done. the usual is well over twice that. Jane's brother and his wife are on the same plane, but we only eet up when we're about to board. flight a bit delayed because of strikes in France (knock on) but quiet and nice enough curry with quite a drinkable red.

At the hotel Genie shows us the room - same one as last time but with improvements. There's a brand new shower and sink.

Sunday, April 1/2012

Last bits - finish reading the Rankin and finish packing. Boxes tied, suitcases done.

Saturday, March 31/2012

Our last Saturday here. It's not cold, but it is very windy. Take a couple of last minute things to the charity shop. WE've thought of ice creams at Harry's Café, but it's too windy to enjoy them so we settle for Cyprus coffees.

Last loaf of sesame rye bread from the bakery and last salad things (and fresh strawberries) from Prinos. We're walking back when a man calls our attention to a tree covered with blossoms with an amazingly beautiful scent. we take one to try to identify. Does smell like jasmine, but one woman suggests Mexican orange - she has one at home - and Kiki also thinks it may be citrus.

Flat looks like disaster zone with drawers and cupboardsopen and emptying, flat surfaces covered, bottlesbeing decanted into smaller and taped for transport or sealed for storage. You'd think we were moving house.

And reading in between. Looks like we may just finish the Rankin. We forget the world wide turn off of lights for ecology and read right through it, so spared moral dilemma.

Friday, March 30/2012

Pre-packing. Should be simple, as the cases are so small, but that doesn't make it any easier. Some things will be boxed for next winter. We too have tried to reduce the volume with limited success. Then spot (not that it's difficult) Arvid and Eva's things packed and labelled on the floor outside the 4th floor lift. thirteen containers occupying an area about 60 feet square. We feel positively Spartan.

Haven't timed the book finishing perfectly either. I seem to be about half finished Anthony Blunt's biography and similar with the Ian Rankin we're reading aloud. Take to London or store for next year?

Thursday, March 29/2012

J confirms with Mr A that next year's rent will be the same as this - and yes, we can have the confirmation in writing.

Last coffee with Margaret down at George's. Quite a crew there, not all of whom we know. Margaret's been lovely and brought us a little fridge magnet with Paphos Castle as a memento. So I'm glad that I've brought along a little container of the lemon curd I made this morning.

Maggi's last day, so we help her move her boxes and cases down to the mezzanine, m lamenting her inability to reduce the number of boxes despite her best intentions.

We take the bus out to Vlachos in the evening. Arrive a little early and go fo a walk nearly to the second road in to Pyla - just past Beau Rivage Hotel, deserted, semi-dismantled, and for sale. When we get back Jane and Bill are there along with Jane's brother and his wife, who are visiting from England Aylsa and Harry arrive and we have a lovely visit and meal. Harry and Aylsa pack up the leftovers for the animals, the multitude of dogs and cats they share their house with. There are birds too, including a couple of baby birds.The breeding is somewhat accidental.  Harry says, seriously, "I don't encourage it." No Cypriot restaurant hurries you, so we're neearly 3 hours. Aylsa and Harry kindly give us a lift home.

Wednesday, March 28/2012

Word spreads that the Norwegians have been told that the rent will be €100 more next year than we're paying this. This in contrast with Mr Andreas having said the price will be the same next year. As J says, there's no particular obligation to ensure that everyone pays the same. On any given airplane passengers have paid a multitude of different fares, depending on how and where they bought their tickets. All the same, it does seem a little unpleasant if the Norwegians, who have been coming to this hotel longer than we have and stay at least as long in a winter, pay more simply because they are less willing to bargain and, if necessary, leave. We knkow we could go to Paphos and pay less, and do like it there, but on the whole we're quite comfortable here and have friends whom we see here as well.

Tuesday, March 27/2012

There's a sign in the lobby advertising free barbecues at the restaurant every Saturday night. The unwritten understanding, of course, is that it's an incentive to go and purchase drinks. So it appears that a family of four staying here, a couple with two rather overweight daughters, left staff flabbergasted by going and eating copiously and then answering the question "what will you have?" with "nothing."

Monday, March 26/2012

Pass three cars parked on the sidewalk - as per usual in Cyprus - with (most unusually) parking tickets affixed to the windshields. New policeman on the beat? The owners will be astonished.

J has coffeeat Harry's and I a lemon ice cream cone. It is indeed good - as good as in Florence, always my gold standard. And, on the theme of gold, J to Zeus (local pronunciation Zefs) to have his gold chain repaired on the spot.

Last game of Scrabble in the evening as M packs up.

Sunday, March 25/2012

Two events on today, and they conflict. There's the Malaysian Grand Prix, which I finally work out - through time changes, both longitudinal and daylight savings - to be at 11 o'clock. Not bad - pubs open and late enough for a Guinness to be drinkable. But there's also an invitation from Mr. Andreas here at the Sunflower, to a meal at 1 o'clock - in apology, it seems, for the construction inconvenience this winter. It's clear that the race won't quite be finished in time for the meal, so that's a write off. Even more definitely when the race is suspended for a while due to torrential rain in Malaysia.

The meal, however, turns out to be better than anticipated. The Norwegians prove to be very friendly and mostly speak some English. We have quite a good chat with Arvid and Eva, who are sitting next to us and also live next door. Andreas is on our other side and on his best behaviour. He and his wife, a sweet young grandmother, talk to us of their grandchildren and Cypriot customs. The salad is good. Followed by a massive plate of rice and shared platters of beef tenderloin and chips. Plenty of beer and wine nd we and the next door Norwegians drinking a South African cabernet sauvignon, and then finishing the bottle of sauvignon blanc that Mr Andreas and his wife had only toyed with. Actually lovely talking to the Norwegians, who are very friendly but clearly find it easier to talk Norwegian to other Norwegians than to talk English with us - though some of them are very fluent in English. And after all that wine and beer and a number of toasts we're all feeling pretty friendly.

As for the race - eventually we find it was an unexpected Ferari win for Alonso. Next two races in London (us, not the races). Question re sports reporting: When have we heard a North American reporter use a phrase like "suffused with poignancy" as I heard this morning (re football and not racing). Is it necessary to place a 200 word vocabulary limit on Canadian sports reporters?

Saturday, March 24/2012

Coffee at Harry's and some of the patrons are eating ice creams and say they're excellent. Maggi and her friend Laurel are slated to join us but don't show, having got waylaid shopping. Stunning coffee spot in front of St Lazarus Church with its lovely Venetian tower.

Planning for London in not much more than a week's time, so googling accordingly. The obvious in the way of galleries, museums and theatres, but also making a list of eating places, as we're not doing our own cooking. Amazing what comes up by googling things like "ridiculously cheap" (along with positive terms, of course) and "BYO + no corkage" is good as well. Lots of Indian and vegeterian spots, but by no means only those. Canadians always seem a bit prim - wanting to say "inexpensive" or "good value." It's quite easy to search for British holidays or restaurants by saying "very cheap" - and there are some real winners in the mix.

Friday, March 23/2012

Meet J at the beach after his morning constitutional. On the way I pass the Avenue, originally hotel apartments and now mostly just apartments. It's surrounded by police tape and fire investigators are there as well, though the building seems to be intact and there ae tenants leaning over their balconies observing. And I remember that there were sirens around one a.m. Later we hear that the fire was started by a cigarette in the reception area.

Down Makenzy (yes, correct local spelling) to look at the paintings on display by local aartists. Jane has some there - and sold one last week. There's also a batik we really like, but like most framed works it's just too big to try to take back. Coffee at Harry's on the way back. J comes home later with half a kilo of fresh picked Derynia strawberries from Prinos.

Thursday, March 22/2012

To the dentist to get our teeth examined and cleaned. No rebate for there being one less tooth to clean, but at €45 each we're not complaining. thought we'd miss Thursday morning coffee, but we're done in time. Lovely soaking in the sun, but sunglasses definitely needed..

Wednesday, March 21/2012

M back from Dubai and we go to Dhekelia for the film. The base gets current films and charges only €4 for students and seniors. The legroom is amazing - estimate a 6 foot pitch from the back of one chair to€ the same point in the row ahead. No difficulty in finding a seat either - exactly thirteen patrons there, almost all at the €4 rate. Hard to know how they do it.

The film itself, though, is, unfortunately horror verging (as horror so easily does) on the silly: The Woman in Black. It's adapted from the novel and stage play. The play is the second longest running in the west end, but then the longest running is The Mousetrap - simply a bad play that has become famous for being famous. Some lovely Victorian settings tonight, but ultimately an unsatisfactory script. I'd avoided reading the review in the Cyprus Mail, the reviewer being usually self-indulgent and rather annoying. When I do read it after the film, it turns out the reviewer is lukewarm, but for not quite the righht reasons.

Clear evening s we leave the theatre and Harry points out Jupiter and Venus and Mars.

Tuesday, March 20/2012

Jane and Bill and Aylsa and Harry to dinner. Maggi still in Dubai. Six people means bringing in the plastic chairs from the balcony but they're reasonably comfortable and there are also the 2 armchairs anc couch. Lovely to be able to sit in a circle in comfortable seats where we can all hear everyone and not just the person next. A lot of laughter. Harry can be very funny and describes being called on stage at a magician's show and finding after all the abracadabra a chicken sticking its squawking head out of his fly.

Monday, March 19/2012

Haircut in the moroning, taking Miranda Carter's biography of Anthony Blunt along. Forget to take the book with me to the chair where I'm parked for fifteen minutes or so after the girl has wetted my hair. Like not rememering to take a book out of the doctor's waiting room and into the examining room, where there's nothing to read except wall charts on the reproductive system.

Chicken into a itre of wine as per the two fat ladies' instructions for tomorrow's coq au vin. J also makes pork goulash and chicken liver paté and does the time consuming cutting of the artichokes while I read to him - now an Ian Rankin novel.

Sunday, March 18/2012

First Grand Prix of the season. The AAustralian, so it's at eight in the morning - a bit too early for a sports bar. The good news is that it's broadcast on BBC Radio 5 live, courtesy of the British forces radio. The bad that no television station we get covers it so it's all audio, no video. Good race though.

Maggi off on a trip to Dubai.

Finish Tony Benn's diary (1991-2001). Amazing energy - Benn, not us.

Saturday, March 17/2012

St. Patrick's Day and Maggi's birthday so we have a longish lunch here with meze Jaworski style - sautéed artichoke hearts, tzatziki, humus with caramelised onions, mackerel spread, etc. Cheesecake but no candles. Give her the Egyptian t-shirt we found at the animal shelter shop - sadly more her size than mine, as well as being her colour.

Friday, March 16/2012

Weather finally sunny and warm - seasonal in fact for kCyprus. But, most unfairly, equally sunny and warm in much of Canada, including record breaking 20's in northern Ontario. The Great Lakes aren't supposed to match the Mediterranean before the end of winter!

Thursday, March 15/2012

Meet Margaret, Leslie, Sharon et al for coffee.  Sharon's mother is here, visiting from England.
 To Vlachols in the evening with the usual crew plus Bill and Jane's neighbour Maureen, who is about to leave to visit her daughter in Dubai nd says the races there leave Ascot in second place for glamour. J and I both order the moussaka  - but everyone else's looks good too.

Wednesday, March 14/2012

Dinner with Maggi and Marj on Marj's last day in Cyprus. Nice getting to chat with her again and very nice meal - lamb kleftiko and Lebanese style pastries. Some serious fasting in order - but not likely.

Tuesday, March 13/2012

The forecast was unpromising, but we're lucky. It stops pouring just before we leave for the bus to Limassol. As we wait for the bus on the waterfront, I read some of the posted timetables for local buses. One advertises itself as going to Central Abattoir, Political Asylum, and Kofinoy Station. An interesting combination. And on the way to Limassol we do stop at the bus station in Kofinoy village and pass the signpost for the central abattoir. No sign of political asylum though - maybe it's just a state of mind.

Rains again on the way, but stops as we reach Limassol. Sam and Andy pick us up, Andy driving, and back to the house in Erimi. We go to Curium Beach for coffee, sitting outside, a few feet away from the sea, which is turbulent and multicoloured today. It's so beautiful and so easy to take for granted in this country.

Talking with Sam always interesting - such clear insights with that lovely balance, assured but not imposing. And very nice also to see Andy again and catch up a little. He says Olivia has found a job as a nanny for a Canadian couple - work which, happily for her, requires her to travel with the family. Sam makes an interesting - and delicious middle eaastern dish with browned onions,  and layers of rice, aubergine and fish, as well as quite a lot of allspice. A keeper!  Then strawberries and cream.

Once more rain just before we leave but not as we wait for the bus or walk home from it. And during the day dry enough for us to eat outside in Sam's Roman villa style garden. Perfect.

Monday, March 12/2012

Coffee at Harry's with Lynette and Alex, and as we drink the temperature drops and the wind comes up, to the point where sandwich boards outside cafés are in danger of becoming airborne. As we walk back there are spatters of rain.

In the evening L and A ccome over for a drink. They`re off tomorrow, heading for Turkey and - they hope - a second try at an Iranian visa. They`re hoping that Ankara has good enough relations that this may work - as it didn`t from Nicosia. The difficulty is that the Iranians seem to prefer organised tours or, at the least, carefully planned itineraries with prebooked arrangements, whereas A and L are reluctant to make a lot of bookings without knowing that their visa application will be approved. They`ll already be out over  €200 on an application - non-refundable if it isn't approved. They're also thinking of going to India, so we'll be interested in hearing how it goes.

Sunday, March 11/2012

Lazy day. Brunch with the local daily, which isn't very good but does come up with basic information and some unintentional humour. There's also so much evidence that Cyprus is not an EU country in a functional sense. There is this week a letter complaining that EU directives require that retailers repair or provide refunds for defective goods for a two year period after purchase - a requirement that is ignored by Cypriot merchants, who often deny that there is any such law, and ignored by government agencies as well, so that complaints are useless. This corresponds with what others have said - that Cyprus rregularly pays fines rather than comply with EU regulations.

And, in similar vein, one section of today's paper reports that the government has passed a law prohibiting air traffic controllers from striking while another section announces the three dates in the coming week when four-hour strikes will occur.

In the evening Maggi and her friend Marge come up for a Cyprus brandy and a chat. Marge laid back, interesting and well informed.

Saturday, March 10/2012

Coffee at Harry's - sunny and warm enough now that we opt for a table in partial shade. Amble through the market, now buzzing with Saturday colour and trade  - everything from artichokes to strawberries to pomelos to net bags of live snails.

In the evening we go to Lynette and Alex's flat where we've been invited for curry. It's lovely, and so is the pleasure of tlk with like minded people. Easy to find it's nearly midnight and when we were twenty the conversation would probably have gone on  until dawn.

Friday, March 9/2012

J to the beach for his morning walk and I to George`s café to meet up with Margaret and Leslie for a cuppa. Actually pretty hot walking in the sun, but after the cool weather we've been having no one is complaining. We're back to Cyprus sun.

In the afternoon Maggi, her friend Marge (visiting from Scotland for a week) and Jane and I go to the base at Dhekelia for fish and chips at the restaurant (portions so big that two would really have done the four of us). We're there for a production of Little Shop of Horrors - a combined effort on the part of King Richard School and the little theatre group. It's light and fun and fairly good for amateur, despite the female lead having difficulty carrying a tune. Probably would have been more interesting but less professional had it been entirely a student production.

Thursday, March 8/2012

When I'm in the lobby using the computer, Mr. Andreas calls me over to the desk where he's talking to another guest - a young man. And asks if "we" have a password for the hotel wifi. Yes. He's surprised. Do I know it? Yes. Can I tell this young man? Yes, I say, and I'll write it down so you can tell other users.

Take Alex and Lynette to the charity shop as A is running low on reading. We meet up with J and over to Harry's café for a Cyprus coffee in the sun. Not at the prices A and L have been getting used to in Egypt, but a striking location with St Lazarus Church in the background. They ask us to join them for dinner but we can see it will be simpler aat our place - we`re more set up for long term. So L makes two enormous and beautiful salads and we cook chicken, rice and vegetables. And we all settle in for an evening of food, wine, and chat.

Wednesday, March 7/2012

Coffee with Margaret and another friend. I ask afterward what the friend's name is, having sat with her before. Margaret says that she calls her Doula,  but then adds that it's not her name - but if I say it quickly no one notices. Well, helpful as a technique maybe....

Alex and Lynette, our Australian friends arrive back from Egypt - and Jordan and Israel -  and give us a call. So we go over to share some wine and a great deal of chat about their travels. They were in Cairo for about two weeks as well as time in Israel and Palestine and more extensive travel in Jordan than we've done. They've now been away from Australia nearly a year and going strong.

Tuesday, March 6/2012

Horrible story of Nicosia area family who watched their house collapse as the municipality carried out major roadworks. The municipality and contractor each blamed the other. Most shocking, the insurance company, Laiki, which is a major bank, refused to pay out on the grounds that they had not been informed by the policy holder that there were roadworks happening. It's such a ridiculous objection that it's quite clear that they would have used any feeble excuse aat all. And all this was three years ago, with no compensation by anyone. Unbelievable!

Monday, March 5/2012

Maggi to dinner as we have a sort of spaghetti carbonade with artichoke hearts, mushrooms and caramelised onions replacing the bacon. As we look the ingredients over we can see there's lots for three, so nice evening.

Sunday, March 4/2012

The morning paper announces that Paphos airport was "left unstaffed" overnight. The strikes continue - mosly a half day at a time but it's definite hit and miss whether one can leave as scheduled. It must be affecting tourism as people with a week's holiday can't afford to mess it up.

Saturday, March 3/2012

Warm sun again and Cyprus coffee lazily in front of Harry's Café - shirtsleeve weather in the sun.

Friday, March 2/2012

We're reading (aloud) a volume of Tony Benn's diaries, this one covering 1991-2001. Tony Benn, the left wing icon, thoroughly Old Labour, who stayed fast as the party shifted to New Labour under his feet. Benn was first elected to the British parliament in 1950, when J and I were not yet in school, and left in 2001. During the whole of this time he kept, and at regular intervals published, a political (and occasionally personal) diary. He's cheerful, extrovert, and amazingly energetic.

His memory is wonderful - and the perspective of course is quite remarkable. So many people that one thinks of only as historical figures he knew. He met both Nehru and Gandhi, and entered the house shortly after World War II, in which he served in the airforce. And J and I remember the meeting of totally uncompromising hardline Commuists that we went to in London a couple of years back, where they dismissed Tony Benn because he hadn't been against WWII. He is extremely principled though. He would, in the normal course of events, have become Lord Stansgate on the death of his father but rejected the hereditary peerage on principle.

The book is hardcover and nearly 700 pages long, so when I got it at the charity shop on Saturday I told J that I couldn't resist but we'd have to come back next year to do it justice, but a week later we're a third of the way through, carried along by Benn's boyish enthusiasm. Despite the enormous spa of his career, he's very focused on the present nd enjoys the company of a wide range of people. The book reveals surprisingly unnuanced views of many issues, but maybe that's what you need to get on with the job. The Times reviewer refers to "the brio of illuminating a life almost entirely free of boredom." There's also the interesting quality of a diary rather than a memoir - the events haven't been mentally edited after the fact.

Thursday, March 1/2012

Brief panic as we discover that the wifi system has been upgraded (good in itself) but requires a password about which the staff appear to know nothing. But, following Kiki's telephone entreaties, a young compputer guru appears and sets a password and all is well - actually a faster connection than before.

To Vlachos for dinner with the usual crowd. It's unusually busy for a weeknight and the staff seem a bit harrassed. Food is good, though. And the moussaka back in form. Wish it were easier to hear in there though. Conversation works best with those immediately beside one. Maybe that's why Greeks always talk so loudly.

Report on the Cypriot news tonight of a court case regarding gambling, which is illegal in the Republic of Cyprus. The accused are all women aged between 70 and 99, and they're accused of playing cards for five and ten euro stakes in a private residence in Limassol. A group thinned out somewhat since the original charges were laid, as two have died and another two lost their memories due to Alzheimer's.

 

Wednesday, February 29/2012

The threatened rain doesn't come, but it's pretty cold - 8 Celsius - and very windy. I set out to meet up with J and Margaret for coffee at George's and decide it's just too cold. Not really too cold for the walk, but too cold to sit shivering outside George's café. So call J, who has the UK mobile in his pocket. He, prudently, doesn't answer, but when it rings he knows I won't be coming.

In the afternoon Kiki has the good news that the rent here won't be going up next year. Was it's J's reference to Paphos, or suggestion that there should be a discount next year to compensate us for this year's renovation noiseOr was it Maggi's mentioning that we have been looking at other hotels? We'll never know - but it won't have been out of the goodness of Mr Andreas' heart.

In theory there is supposed to be an Inspector Frost film on at nine, but, as is often the case, it's been replaced without notice or apology by a different film, not, of course, in English.

Tuesday, February 27/2012

Too wet this morning for walking but we've arranged with Maggi to go to check on a couple of alternate apartment hotels for next year, prudently keeping our options open as management here consider the potential value of this year's "improvements", as well, no doubt, as factoring in the escalating cost of electricity and water.

Larco Hotel Apartments is fully booked - at least the apartments are - which  is not particularly good re prices. One bedroom flats in winter are  €660 a month, mostly occupied by Scandinavians. We're about to leave when the thunderstorm intensifies and there is tremendously heavy rain, which suddenly turns to hail. Quite dramatic as it piles up in front of the glass doors and the street becomes a stream.


We're driving back slowly, so as not to lose the brakes or skid into the intersections. Stop at another hotel - the Onisillous - to check it out. the flats are OK - a little less cosy than the Sunflower but with BBC TV and microwaves. The location has pros and cons - quite near St Lazarus and the beach and nearer the Saturday market, but not as close to the supermarkets or Prinos. The owner is a real charmer though. He's close to eighty and the hotel is a family business. He and his wife live on the premises and his granddaughter has a beauty shop here. But life wasn't always so easy. He invites us to share a cup of Cyprus coffee and Mandarin oranges from his own property, and tells us the story of his progress from barrow to small shops to hotel, with a lovely, quiet, modest style. The flats are €555 a month from November to March and there is, as he shows us, a printed price list - a refreshing change from Mr Andreas' practice of tossing out prices to see what the response is - run it up the flag and see who salutes. So that even when one has a more or less satisfactory price from him there is always the nagging suspicion that someone else has probably done better, or, embarrassingly, worse, or that one may have just lost a game of chicken.


As we're in the lobby there are torrents of rain pouring down the road and lapping up over the sidewalks, with white hail being borne along on the current. Less rain and no hail by the time we get back home, but at one point driving in the car sounded like living inside a drum as it was being beaten.

Monday, February 27/2012

This is clean Monday, also known as Green Monday. Follows carnivals on the Sunday and precedes Lent, which in the Eastern Church begins on Wednesday, February 29 - this year a week later than in the Western Church. In Cyprus, as in Greece, it's celebrated with picnics emphasising seafood and green vegetables and by flying kites.

The sky is threatening, though, and it's extremely windy. J, out for his morning walk along the beach, reports that it's holiday busy and there are plenty of kites in evidence. Some advantage to the wind. Showers in the afternoon, though.

Sunday, February 26/2012

By bus to Pyla for lunch with Jane and Bill. More difficult than it sounds, as the online bus maps don't mtch Bill's impression of which buses go there. flag down a 429, which had shown no signs of stopping. It's more than full, standing room only, and, apart from us, all the passengers are African students. One girl (though they're mostly young men) gives me her seat and perches on the knee of another young lady. They all alight in Pyla, as do we. The access road wasn't the one past Bill and Jane's so we're unsure of which road to take and Jane picks us up.

Lovely lunch outside in the Cyprus sun - roast chicken with stuffing and potatoes as well as a large dish of mixed vegetables. And good company. Jane has a couple of lovely tagines that she brought back from Morocco, which we admire. Afterward we use their secure computer to book the hotel in Victoria for July. Then ane walks out with us to the Dhekelia Road, where there's a bus about to leave for Larnaca. Conveniently, but rather by chance, it seems, as the schedule had said it should just be leaving its base point down the road. There's a map online that shows every stop as a nice little blue ring - but it's obviously useless.

Saturday, February 25/2012

Stunning day, so coffee at Harry's Café by St. Lazarus. About as good as it gets.

New source of amusement: Kobo sends me regular email in which it makes rather inefficient efforts to suggest books that may be to my taste, based on past purchases. So, as I have recently bought two of Chris Mullin's political diaries as ebooks, today's suggestion list is headed by an offering called So You Want to be a Politician.

Friday, February 24/2012

Finally booked return flights to London, for April 2. Not simple - HSBC card required verifying, involving phone call to London, three different employees, and a call back which never happened. Finally used Mastercard.

Thursday, February 24/2012

Coffee at George's with Margaret, Sharon, Leslie, Tina - and Lorraine, mother of six week old Lewis, whom everyone takes a turn holding. Tina's brought millionaire's cake with her as promised, as well as her husband's pork pies - some made with pickle and cheese. Lovely.

We've booked our last chunk - three weeks in London at the Baron, where we stayed in November.  My favourite city in the world - and at a remarkably good price.

Wednesday, February 22/2012

J reading a thick juicy looking book on Anthony Blunt's life and career. I'm reading a memoir called A Girl from Schindler's List, written by a survivor. And jointly (aloud) we're reading Ian Rankin's Exit Music. And, as if that weren't enough, we have two unread current goodies (as well as many classics) on the Kobo. Lovely knowing that one can't run out of good reads.

Tuesday, February 21/2012

Jane's birthday and she and Bill have kindly invited us to a birthday dinner at the Shanghai, a (needless to say) Chinese restaurant less than ten minutes walk from us.  There are eight of us - including Maggi, Harry and Aylsa, and Stuart, a friend from the hash runs. Jane has brought some great photos from her Morocco trip - camels, colourful tagines, etc., and we all starat thinking of desert treks. It's certainly agreed with Jane - she's looking radiant. The round table works well for conversation too - much better than two square ones pushed together. Good food, with very nice spring rolls. Lovely evening.

Monday, February 20/2012

Flirting with the possibility of a train/ferry trip to Ireland. The fares are amazingly good - £38 or €45 ($60 CAD) from any city in Great Britain to Dublin - or the same in reverse. Obviously the starting spot would be London, but what about the return? The temptation is to go as far as possible. Penzance? Inverness? Until reality sets in. The real difficulty is the timing of Easter as we compete anywhere we go then for high holiday prices.

Sunday, February 19/2012

The prediction was for sunny with a high of 13, but the actuality is, happily, better than that. Nice walk along the promenade. On the way home we spot the small jeweller's (sales and repairs) recommended to us by the Ukrainian girl who makes her own jewellery. She proonounced it ZEFS and spelled it ZEVS, and we were mystified until we saw the sign - ZEUS. Blame Anglo pronunciation.

Saturday, February 18/2012

Maggi over to dinner in the evening. Stuffed mushrooms, sautéed artichoke hearts and chicken wings for the starter. Then chicken, rice, leeks, red and yellow sautéed peppers, carrots and Christmas cake with brandy sauce.  Lovely to be able to have the artichokes. In Sioux Lookout they're seldom to be had and one long dead one costs the earth. Here we sometimes mix them with pasta or put them on a pizza.

Friday, February 17/2012

J out on his morning constitutional, putting in miles along the beach and I with Maggi and her young friend Andrée who lives in Oroklini, along with year old daughter, Ioanna, to the charity shop at the British forces base at Dhekelia. It's open only Friday mornings and only until 11. It's jam packed with clothes as well as some dishes, electronics, handbags, paintings and odds and ends.  Andrée does well with baby clothes and I pick up quite a nice multicoloured Italian scarf. Coffee at Andrée's, as Ioanna, with the sweetest of smiles, plays happily in her playpen.

Over to Prinos, where artichokes are now on sale. Also get leeks, tomatoes, oranges, onions, carrots, Cypriot bananas, fresh spinach, red and yellow peppers, mushrooms, and a lime. The lime from far away, but most of the rest local and fresh. One of the nicest things about Cyprus in the winter.

Thursday, February 16/2012

Coffee at George's. Tina, who made the millionaire's cake that Margaret gave us, is there as well as Leslie and Sharon. Len appears with Bobbie, his girlfriend, and is wished happy birthday by everyone. An easy guess as he's wearing a huge medallion saying "birthday boy." A man called Peter comes to sit next to J - quite an interesting chap from a family that seems to be half Irish and half Cypriot. An avid reader, especially of history.

Wednesday, February 15/2012

G&T in Maggi's flat. Hers completely renovated and ours not, but the changes do raise questions re next year. A real estate agent told us that some Scandinavians have begun signing year leases. Sometimes cheaper than 5-6 months hotel apartment, and their relatives can use the flat at other times.

Tuesday, February 14/2012

Gabriel and Adrienne over for a drink before dinner. They leave at midnight Thursday. This is a rebooking, as their Hungarian airline went bankrupt, so they're now rebooked on a Czech airline. Out of pocket, but they're philosophical - it's warmer here than it is in Hungary. Most of Europe has been experiencing unusually cold and snowy weather. Quite a few deaths.

Monday, February 13/2012

Looking for a spot to go to after Cyprus. We're here on a one-way ticket so need to co-ordinate return ticket with stay wherever. The difficulty this year is that Easter is early April and fares and warm holiday prices rise accordingly. As the search heats up the quality of the wifi deteriorates. The connection always purports to be excellent, but is SLOW.

Sunday, February 12/2012

Down to the promenade after brunch and it's in sunny, festive mode with the balloon sellers and the nut sellers out again, and girls carrying stuffed toys won aat games of chance. There's a brisk breeze off the sea but the sun is warm.

Home along Makarios, past the shop that the Red Canaries pet shop is about to move into. It's adorned with a huge sign with two red birds and, in giant letters, "Red Canneries Pet Shop."

Saturday, February 11/2012

Another lovely day. We meet Maggi down at Harry's Café near St Lazarus Church for coffee. Beautiful sunny spot with good Cyprus coffee and a magical view of the church with its Venetian tower.

Begin the online search for our next stop this winter/spring, hindered a bit by the timing of Easter as we're competing with those taking Easter holidays. The wifi connection is infuriatingly slow and the Congolese banker has stopped using it, opting for a paid wifi connection fro his room. So we're no longer treated to the details of international finance.

Friday, February 10/2012

A lovely day for walking. Coffee down on the waterfront and a wander around the streets. Sit on the pier with the wind blowing through our hair and the sun warm on our backs.

Thursday, February 9/2012

Coffee with Margaret and Leslie, Leslie cheerful as ever while telling a horrific story about her plumbing repairs. Plumbing becomes horrific quite easily in Cyprus because, like Greece and nowhere else, the main sewage pipes are about two and a half inches in diameter. So despite directives re not putting toilet paper down the flush, the pipes get clogged very easily. As Leslie says, she knows what she puts down 0 but the main pipe is shared with the next door neighbours....

Maggi invites us, along with Gabriel and Adrienne, over for strawberries. A and G don't eat after 6 p.m., but we do. Strawberries a little on the early side still, but nice evening. Gabriel voluble on his experiences in Africa and some of the stories are pretty good.

Wednesday, February 8/2012

Wet again today. Good thing we've been here for the past eleven years - otherwise we might think this was the norm. Quick run out to Carrefour and Prinos. Lovely having such an excellent greengrocer five minutes away - and buying tomatoes and cucumbers and courgettes in mid-winter.

Tuesday, February 7/2012

Wash day - everything from Cairo filthy, and easy to wash but too wet for outdoor drying.

Monday, February 6/2012

View from Maggi's Room

We've arranged for a transfer to the airport about 12:30 for 50 Egyptian pounds ($8.20 CAD, £5.20 GBP, €6.20). The original plan was to go in the morning to see the Nilometer on Roda Island but conflict has escalated in the night so we decide to keep a lower profile and stick closer to home. The shopping district around Tala'at Harb Square is peaceful enough. Rather too peaceful actually as the shops seem only to begin opening after 10 o'clock and then one or two at a time, reluctantly as it were. Near home we stop for a cup of coffee and a pastry. Pastries delicious. Maggi's coffee comes but not ours - which in the end is just as well as we're out of time and it takes some effort to elicit a bill.


On the way to the airport the driver gestures and tells us that Mubarek lived "back there" in a big place. We think of the big jail his sons are living in now There are so many beautiful buildings in Cairo, such lovely colonial architecture, mostly now grimy and crumbling.


Terminal 3 is large and very new. We change back the little Egyptian currency left - in our case into sterling with $3 US as top up. Duty free shops not terribly interesting, and snacks available in Egyptian pounds a shocking price. The small bottle of water that is 1.50 in Egyptian pounds on the street is 26 Egyptian pounds here ($4.27 CAD, €3.23, £2.71), much worse than Larnaca airport at €1.10. Announcements for departures are interesting - in Arabic, English and the language of the destination country, and preceded by a few bars of music appropriate to the destination. Ours is from Zorba the Greek!


Flight home about an hour and twenty minutes. The illuminated sign next to the fasten your seat belt sign now advises against using electronic equipment during take off and landing - which doesn't prevent at least two men from talking on their mobiles as the stewardess is presenting the safety demo. They're asked to put them away but don't seem to grasp the point of turning them off as well. But we land safely in Larnaca. We're home.

Sunday, February 5/2012

Qaitbey Fort, Alexandria

We're up at six for breakfast at 6:30 and our planned trip to Alexandria (€65 for a car and driver for the day). Breakfast the same as yesterday - except that Maggi has been at work in the kitchen and the cups are visibly cleaner and the breakfast tray not only washed but dried. Mohamed does give everything a quick rinse, but that seems to be more or less the extent of it. Not that things are necessarily different in posher accommodation. We remember watching a waiter in our hotel in Giza cleaning a handful of cutlery on the corner of a less than pristine tablecloth. We eat the white buns, foil-wrapped soft cheese triangles and jam but give the hardboiled eggs a miss. By the time they're done, and too hot to hold, it's time to go.

It's a very foggy start. The usual smog with a much higher fog component, so we leave hoping that there will be decent visibility for our day in Alexandria. As we hit the motorway, though, this rapidly becomes the least of our concerns. We pass, in the initial stages more incredibly ugly accidents than I have seen in the whole rest of my life put together, including a car crushed beneath an enormous semi (artic). The balancing wheels from the front of the trailer section have actually gone through the roof of the car. But this is only the beginning. For over half an hour we drive past accidents so numerous that we give up counting - cars crushed, folded almost in two, and torn apaart, and bodies by the side of the road, some of them not moving - faces covered. There is the occasional ambulance, but many of the vehicles look like survival would have been impossible. Occasionally a small fire has been started by the side of the road as a makeshift flare, but there is hardly any need to warn us - the road is one huge accident scene. The fog, of course, is the most obvious cause, but excessive speed for the conditions has clearly played a major part; the vehicular damage we see cannot have been inflicted at low speeds. Ashkok, our driver, is good - but he too is going fast enough that any exception on the road (which is a new one and good) could be problematic.

Alexandria is entered through a large portal with white columns and the city name engraved in Greek as well as Arabic. It's sunny and we snake through narrow, crooked lanes that hardly look as if vehicle traffic were possible Our first stop is at the catacombs. They were rediscovered in 1900 when a donkey fell into a hole which continued into three levels of catacombs with many little passages and a honeycomb of burial spots. The carvings are Egyptian but the catacombs obviously have mixed Egyptian, Graeco-Roman and Christian antecedents. About second century.

Then a stop at Qaitbey Fort on the sea. A fairy tale castle of a fort. It's an Islamic fort built in 1480, originally on the Island of Pharos, built on the remains of the lighthouse, but now part of the mainland, as silt long ago filled in the gap.

A quick snack at Gad, one of a chain of Egyptian fast food restaurants. Very busy, and so it should be as the local style food is good and very cheap. You decide whaat you want and then pay for it. The cashier gives you a receipt with your choice printed on it in Arabic, which you hand over at the counter in exchange for the food. Very clean as those preparing food don't touch the money. Two counters and a man at the entryway cutting meat from two large doner spits. Meat in a bun about $1.40 or spiced bean paste and tomato slices in a small pita for about 15 cents. Delicious too.

Then to the new Alexandria Library. the original livrary, of course, one of the highlights of the ancient world, but its successor is pretty impressive too. It opened in 2002, the work of a Norwegian architect who won a UNESCO competition. Strikingly modern and with room for 8 million books, as well as museums and a planetarium. M and I have drinks at a café nextto the library, the magnificent building in front of us and the corniche with the Mediterranean blue harbour behind.

Then J and I spend an hour at the museu, admiring sculptures recently retrieved from the Mediterranean as well as tiny tanaga statuettes showing period style and dress, and coptic paintings and fabrics. M goes instead with Ashkok for a coffee.  And back to Cairo, the road now more or less fog and accident free. Askok points out the large jail where Mubarekès two sons are being held.

We enjoy a second night at Felfela. this time itès not the anniversary of Mohammed's birth and we're allowed beer. Also sample the mixed grill and a delicious aubergine dish with a dash of (balsamic?) vinegar. Tala'at Harb Square is humming as are the streets around. Shops open and open air vendors busy even at ten p.m. on a Sunday evening. The protestors are busy later too. it must be aaround midnight when a huge cohort pass noisily under our window on their way, presumably, to Tahrir Square. And the net (wifi in the rooms here) has news of escalating protest southeast of us at the Immigration Ministry - barriers breached and stone throwing answered with gun pellets.

Saturday, February 4/2012

Breakfast at 8:30, by which time Maggi's been out for a recce and found soap. The first priority is decent maps and info. So, often my first unhassled source of information, a five star hotel We head out along our street, now  happily humming. A man has cycled along with two large trays of puffed up pitas on his head, and further down a donkey stands patiently with a cartload of oranges across from the Franciscan school. Under the flyover accesses to the October 6 Bridge. Crossing streets in Cairo has been compared to a real life game of frogger, and yo do need your wits about you. Times have changed in Egypt and there is now airport style security at the Hilton, as well as a German Shepherd on guard. So we pass  our bags through the x-ray and ourselves through the metal detector and head for the bookstore and a nice laminated map of Cairo, suitable for wiping coffee off if necessary. I also take advantage of a moment to check out the Lonely Planet guide book and see where the tourist info office is. When you ask a local - even one with good English about the tourist office, it's obvious that it's a foreign concept and you'll probably be pointed to the nearest travel agent. So we enjoy the five star lounge, and later the loo, and plot our route.

It's down past shops, and at one point a car, made into a market barrow with clothing for sale  hung from roof, doors, and open trunk. The girl at the tourist info is quite helpful with handouts and advice on where to go, and, probably more  important, on where not to go. There's a park nearby,but we discover that the well kept parks are well kept in part by virtue of charging admission and keeping most people out. We sit on the wall and eat our sandwiches, watching the world pass, almost literally over our feet, as we're stationed between vendors. Cairo sellers spread out their wares on the sidewalks - handbags, shirts, watches, whatever.  Then back to the Nile. On the pavement we meet a shop owner - a doctor whose family land was taken when the Aswan Dam was built. We're very near Tahrir Square and he tells us his sons were part of last year's revolution - and he was very proud of them. His brother is now in parliament - not an Islamist but, like all, working for change.

Across the bridge to Zamalek. Well, that's the intent, but it involves circling Tahrir Square, clearly set up for protest and abuzz but not hostile at midday. The square does have open gates, but it's well ringed with concrete and metal barriers. There are flags waving, and at one entrance an effigy hanging. We pass a few tents on the pavement. Continued occupation? There are boys and young men milling about but the real action is saved for evening. We do pass yellow ambulances, though. Dozens of them lined up and waiting. I give up any thought of counting. And a nearby street has concrete barriers.

Our objective on the island at the other end of the bridge is the Cairo Tower - 187 m high, with views out over the surrounding countryside. The entry fee is 70 Egyptian pounds though, and given the heavy smog J and I opt out. M goes up but is underwhelmed. Then back across the bridge. Lots of pedestrian traffic, including one daring boy walking on the railing - though death by pollution seems more likely than death by drowning. There are boats in the Nile below, including one being rowed by a woman, which appears to contain not only her husband and child but most of their possessions.

This tie we circle back the other way - along the corniche behind Tahrir Square and the Egyptian Museum, past a burnt out building and several burned cars, seemingly dating back to last year's revolution.

Early dinner at a restaurant just off Tala'at Harb Square, a five minute walk away. The restaurant is Felfela and we're not the first westerners to discover it. Jimmy Carter ate here - and signed a menu. Our meal is pretty good - the stuffed artichokes less exciting than they should be, but the kushari and Egyptian meatballs are comfort food nice. The space itself, though, is wonderful. We're in a raised alcove that holds two tables and is surrounded by carved wood and an aquarium  at one end. At the other, birds peep out through little birdsnest holes and emerge to preen and play on branches just behind the glass that's almost touching Joe's chair. The tables are all thick slabs of wood, soe ofthe smaller ones cross-sections of large trees, with stone pedestals.  Then home past the busy shops - and the odd begging child.

Friday, February 3/2012

We take the bus to the airport in the late afternoon. Actually almost past the airport as, despite Maggi's having said "airport" as we got on, and despite the airport's being a main stop, the driver continues on past as we belatedly realise that he's not going to stop. Not a long walk back, fortunately.

Jane and her friend Jan are there, on their way to Morocco - a two week holiday involving a six hour camel trek and overnight in a tent in the desert. They have a connection in Cairo - after a thirteen hour wait. The waiting bit begins here, as the plane leaves nearly two hours late, having first arrived late from Cairo and then been obliged to change a wheel. We're given vouchers for €3.50 (£2.90, $4.60 CAD) for a snack as we wait, which runs to a small bottle of water and an extremely small packet of crisps each at airport prices - but there is a small meal on the hour and a half flight. Cold, but quite nice.


We're not optimistic about the promised airport pick up by the hostel/hotel (often a borderline call in Egypt). But no, the poor man has indeed waited for us - for about 3 hours by the time we've purchased our colourful visas ($15 US each) and cleared customs. So we're outinto the warm Egyptian air, and driven back throuogh Cairo's amazing traffic, past the city of the dead, through Tala'at Harb Square, and - another block - to Vienna Hostel. It's on the third floor of the building, reached by an antique cage of a lift. The rooms are basic, but they're clean and there is a shower in the loo with extremely hot water and plenty of water pressure, though no soap. Mohammed, the teenage student son, offers to go out to buy some, baksheesh no doubt in mind, but we decide to wait until morning. A quick look out the doors to the tiny balcony at the once classic building opposite and a quick check of the internet (wifi in the rooms!) and it's midnight.

Thursday, February 2/2012

Meet Margaret for coffee at George's. Leslie is there as well, cheerful as ever. M has brought little packets of sweets for each of us - so lovely that I phone her later to say I fear J is going to leave me for her. She's pleased - there's still a lot of the flirt left in her at 80!

Protests, of course, growing in Egypt, and bodies arriving back at the train station in Cairo from the Port Said stadium riot. We'll reassess in the morning.

Wednesday, February 1/2012

Out for a haircut, prudently taking an umbrella, which turns out not to be needed. The book to read while waiting isn't needed either, as it's a slow day at the hairdresser's and the maestro is taking an unaccustomed break when I arrive, so straight to the chair.

Adrienne and Gabriel over for a drink and a chat after supper. They live, for two weeks at least, at the far end of the corridor. The rest of their life, though, is divided between Mississauga, Canada, their primary home, and Hungary, their country of origin. He's eighty now and looks back on a very interesting life. A freedom fighter in the Hungarian Revolution and a civil engineer by training, he fled Hungary and ended up designing highways in Saskatchewan in the late 50's. This was followed by jobs in various third world countries, from Bangladesh to Malawi, and finally, via Hungary (where he married Adrienne) back to Canada where he ended up teaching at Seneca College. And has he slowed down in retirement, J asks. Not a bit of it He's written fifteen novels, several of them published as ebooks. He offers to give us some reading for the Kobo. What aout a novel and a science fiction?

And late in the evening comes the news that a riot has broken out following a football game in Port Said, leaving, at first reports, over fifty dead and many more injured. The best case scenario, of course, is that this is only a sporting conflict and there will be no political repercussions, but it doesn't seem likely.

Tuesday, January 31/2012

Last night's pyrotechnical display exacts its price: once more Joe's bed is wet. The cleaners arrive and I show the damage to Venera whose English vocabulary seems to be more or less the equivalent of my Greek one. Nero (water) I say, pointing to the ceiling, lest she suppose the damp mattress had another cause. she asseses the situation and says "change" - the usual preliminary to the regular (or, rather, irregular) linen change. I agree, though I don't follow the stream of Greek that comes after. Meanwhile, the other cleaner, who always has a little of the deer in the headlights about her, begins cleaning the balcony - a first in our experience at this hotel. Venera disappears, presumably for fresh sheets, but comes back with a whole new mattress, a Norwegian guest obligingly holding up the other end.

In the midst of all this activity, now taking place around cleaner number two, who has moved from the balcony to the kitchen, more or less blocking the door from the corridor, the Brother arrives to adjust the television (which doesn't receive Capital, a channel with evening films).  Maggi says that the Brother's name is actually Mr Fetus, in accordance with the Cypriot custom of using the title Mr, or Mrs or Miss, before a person's first name. But I can hardly bring myself to address such an ineffectual person, or anyone else for that matter, as Mr Fetus, and continue to think of him as the Brother. So, as the Brother makes repeated efforts to reprogram the telly, cleaner number two, apparently unwilling to be seen doing nothing, continues rewashing the kitchen floor. I'm interested in the fact that our television seems to have some games, conveniently identified in English  (unlike all the other programming information), including Tetris. J points out that the Brother is trying repeatedly to get  out of Tetris. And, as suddenly as it began, it's all over.  New bed, television programmed and floor rewashed, and we're on our own.

In the evening to Vlachos taverna with Maggi, Jand and Bill, and Harry and Aylsa. Jane, who is off to Morocco on Friday for a two week holiday, unfortunately suffering stiffness and pain from the side effects kof a hepatitis A injection. Always a good spread, though the moussaka this time is unduly heavy on the béchamel sauce - enough so that I wouldn't order it again, which is a pity as we liked the old recipe.  As usual, the side dishes would have made a meal on their own, and Harry and Aylsa's many animals get a bag of leftovers.

Monday, January 30/2012

This is another day in this year's January pattern. Starts out dry but by late morning there's rain. we take umbrellas down to Lidl, run innto Maggi there and drive back. Lunch of cheese and dips and coffee. In the evening the rain gets serious, with dramatic lightning and a good view of same from the glass doors to the balcony.