Wild, wet and windy Wales

We left work at lunch time on Friday (Harry now has the nickname ‘half day Harry’) to drive to Swansea to take our drivers applications to the transport office down there. After all our agonising over what we should do the process was fairly painless (except for the £49 each we had to hand over). We sat on the wharves to eat our lunch on a day that could only be described as cold and bleak but dry. After sitting in Amsterdam coffee bars I have decided that it is far more preferable to sit in a warm place sipping coffee and watching the weather from the inside than sitting on a wooden seat, using Harry as a wind shield and hurriedly drinking a cup of tea while wishing it was warmer (we had another cold picnic on the Saturday so we must enjoy it mustn't we?) We were aiming to get to the roast dinner Anne was cooking us in Newport by 6.00 ish and so headed up the coast feeling quite despondent at the towns we drove passed – they certainly didn’t look as though they had come out of the depression on the right side. But going further north things changed and there were a number of seaside resorts which reminded us a little bit of the Sunshine Coast – wide promenade, large houses built to enjoy the view and the sunshine. Our first stop for the day (and our last considering how long it took) was the Kenfig Nature Reserve (Cynffig in Welsh - we do so enjoy the Welsh language - the English names for towns are often as difficult to pronounce as the Welsh name). The reserve was fairly new and we wandered around the little lake and then headed off over the sand dunes to the beach – it looked quite close – but there was always another sand dune after the one we had just climbed (Harry kept giving me looks that said 'I told you so' but I ignored them) and it took quite a while before we got our sandblasting at the beach. Pretty but didn’t stay long. On the way back we took the quick route down a path (turned out flooded) and then another path (turned out flooded) and landed in the middle of a very wet marsh surrounded by two flooded paths and rather a lot of blackberry. Harry did some bush bashing while I found the shortest route around a few trees (he managed to shred his shoe laces and get a few blackberry prickles in his socks and trousers while I managed to get some very wet and muddy shoes). It was one of those trips we will always remember with a smile. Saturday it started to rain (oh actually I think it was Friday).



'It rained and it rained and it rained, the average fall was well maintained.
And when the tracks were simply bogs, it started raining cats and dogs.
After a drought of half an hour, we had a most refreshing shower
And then the most curious thing of all, a gentle rain began to fall.
Next day was also fairly dry, save the deluge from the sky
Which wetted the party to the skin, And after that the rain set in.

Nothing more to add to that Anonymous Poets (Welsh?) verse. Wet days are good for visiting caves and we wandered through the National ones not far from the Brecons . Then Anne, Haz and I headed off to Aberystwyth on the West Coast. We stopped a bit to admire the scenery, a little bridge, the daffodils and the lambs (spring has come to Wales). The town was so much like home (except for the castle ruins and the pier) as it sat on the shoreline of a rugged coast, once grand buildings faded by time and the sea spray (you could imagine many a cuppa being drunk in the afternoon), a cliff railway (golf Frisbee was closed at the top – could have been the wind) and a lovely bed and breakfast that looked out onto the sea. We saw swarms of birds (which could have been blackbirds), and watched as they followed a pattern for quite some minutes before perching on the local university.

After a healthy breakfast and carvery (the night before) we drove up to Portmerion (where the Prisoner was filmed back in the 70’s or 80’s) via a bird nature reserve. We wandered the woodland in some sunshine before arriving at Portmerion. Clough Williams-Ellis began constructing the little town on the hillside in 1926. As an architect he wanted to demonstrate how a naturally beautiful site could be developed without spoiling it. On the whole he probably did. He completed building in 1976, and I guess one of his greatest achievements is that it is listed as a Conservation area now (when he wanted to change a window in one of his buildings he had to apply for a consent – and was impressed with the rigour of the process but not the time it took). There are many cottages, some gifted to him that are now used as shops, hotels or holiday apartments. The documentary said that he had to refuse so much as it wasn’t in keeping (it was all small scale ie Harry had to bend to go through some of the doors but I didn’t.) Great garden – camellias and rhodos are out – and there were a number of New Zealand natives (flax, pongas) and a eucalyptus tree (expected to see tuis and koalas). I loved the estuary where at low tide we wandered out and our already muddy shoes got muddier. Back through the Welsh countryside on a summers evening – why is it beautiful – there is some hills, some lambs, some trees, rivers (rainfall carved ravines out of the hills), canals and windy roads (sound familiar).

Amsterdam

We left Bristol one very early Good Friday morning and spent some time at the airport waiting for our outbound flight. It must be something about weekend travelling because our flight was also delayed coming back. (I sat in the airport on Easter Monday smugly listening to Cardiff bound travellers having an hours delay - I was less smug when I heard that our flight would be delayed about 3 hours. As a result we got home about 2.30 in the morning and had an unexpected guest - a young german girl had missed her connection to Exeter and so after finding her luggage had gone astray came to our spare room for the night). Leaving Schipol Airport included a long taxiing, about 30 minutes, before take off and de-icing which delayed us even further. Let's hope we don't have to fly out of terminal 5 in the near future! Anyway, back to Amsterdam. As a pedestrian we needed to watch out for bikes, cars, trams, scooters, buses all going in different directions - there is no such thing as a one way street and everyone has more right of way than those on foot. We looked carefully each way before running across streets - I pitied those that were disabled or had small children with them. We bought a €17 tram pass for 96 hours and took the tram whenever we could, and when we felt tired often took a rest with a tram ride sight seeing a different part of the city. Some trips were a lot longer when we didn't quite get off at the right stop and went many kilometres out of our way before realising!! On the last day we hired bikes and rode to a nature reserve a few kilometres from the centre and into the country where there were few cars and fewer pedestrians. We caught the ferry across (its free for pedestrians, cyclists and scooters as they aren't allowed to use the tunnel) and rode our dutch bicycles sitting upright and cruising along as the steepest slope were those on bridges. We were pleased that in the morning the sun was out, but while we ate breakfast it began to snow and by the time we had finished our farmers omelette it had cleared again and so off we went. We got some lovely photos of the countryside with a very dark cloud coming our way and on the way back all we can say is that snow clouds move a lot faster than pedal power and we had a great time riding through snow, opening our mouths when we were thirsty for a snow flake, and getting covered in snow. Cycling is a really interesting scene in Amsterdam and as one of the guide books said 'sling a couple of shopping bags over the handle bars and you will feel right at home (we also saw a woman holding an umbrella while cycling). We took a photo of Caramello sitting on the bike seat while on the ferry. The ferry shuddered and he fell off landing near a hole in the boat wall and nearly fell into the canal. I would have been devastated if we had lost our little furry friend as he has been a great campanion during our trip and we have enjoyed taking photos of him.

Canal boats were also a must for us and we took the one hour trip around the centre on the boat one cold afternoon and sat and listened to the commentary. We enjoyed looking into house boats on the canals it was dusk and with lights turned on but curtains open we could see inside quite well - there's a name for people like us!! Most of them looked like rather expensive floating apartments with offices, libraries, dining rooms and leather couches to lounge around in. I could handle that I thought.

Another day we went on a bus trip out to the country and saw a little windmill village called Volendam-Marken (a bit like a Ferrymead or other historical villages), a clog making factory (we were tempted to buy clog slippers - made from material not wood!!), a cheese making factory (oh boy was that tempting - but we are trying to stay off cheese for the fattening qualities it offers and if it was sitting in our fridge there would be no way - they had one called dynamite a local cheese designed to give power in an hour - I don't think we had enough somehow). As an interesting point someone at work mentioned that when they ate cheese they had very vivid and memorable dreams and over the weekend I did too - could it have been the pizza, dutch toasted sandwiches, cheese sampling etc?). The bus trip took us through the polders, over dykes and reclaimed land and then dropped us at a fishing village where the main street was the top of the dyke. We enjoyed the boat trip back to another village and then Harry and I looked at each other and saw the clouds clearing and thought 'nice day tomorrow' - soon after the bus driver said ' there's snow coming' - guess who was right? The trip reminded me of my primary school geography lessons and reading a spy book about 'Nick Someone and the Hole in the Dyke' - seeing is so much better. The windmills these days (some have thatched roofs or walls) are mainly used for pumping water from the polders to prevent flooding. The water is often pumped into a lake which we crossed on the boat. It once was sea water but was dammed and now through all the pumping of water into the lake and out to sea has basically turned into fresh water. We didn't ask what the fisherman in the village fished for (some mutant sea creature that now can live in fresh water?) The villages were quaint (alot of buildings painted a dark green or black - it represents poor as these colours cost less once upon a time) and the houses often had three ornaments in their windows and generally they took pride in their gardens.

It snowed a lot but was warm enough for it not to settle in most places. We heard some tourists talking on cell phones about it being cold but we had packed warm and pleased that we did when the pilot told us it was 'below zero' just before we arrived. We wandered around all wrapped so we were o.k. (those leg warmers I bought in Hong Kong were a good purchase). In places daffodils stood forlornly in snow and I could just picture one turning to its neighbour asking 'what on earth are we doing here? We enjoyed many a coffee while watching the snow float through the air, it was a bit like watching a fire in a hearth, the waves splashing on the beach or fish swimming in a pool. ' About time for a coffee' became the euphemism for 'lets find a loo'. They are very sparse in Amsterdam and the only ones we saw was in the railway station and one along a street only for men.

Many people we have spoken to about our visit say it is the architecture that grabs them and we would agree. The hotel we stayed in was built in 1920 by a shipping company for immigrants to stay in before going to south America. They left the boats and trains from Eastern Europe, were fumigated, washed and subjected to other things I imagine all in the name of hygiene and then stayed a few nights in the hotel waiting for their ship. The restaurant place mats were in the orange and red pattern of the blankets that the Polish bought with them to keep warm. The hotel after the downturn of shipping became a home for criminals for a while and then what sounded a very bleak place for juvenile delinquents to pass the time of day. Most of the hotel had been redecorated and the core of the building had been gutted to give the 6 flights an open view to the sky virtually. It created a sense of space which was the main aim of the redesign. We watched a documentary one night on the hotel and then looked at all the photos on the stairwells of the immigrants, prison days, cells, building and construction. Most of the stair wells and our bedroom still had the chipped tiles etc that were left – for effect I guess (or too expensive to replace) but in reality I didn’t quite enjoy my last night there once I realised, and was constantly reminded of, the sadness that had once been there.

The city has indeed had its share of sadness. The synagogue, Jewish Museum and Ann Frank's House were all testament to this. The Portugese Synagogue was built around the late 1500's after Spain expelled its Jewish population and many fled to Portugal. Descendants began to arrive in Amsterdam. At the time the Dutch was at war with Spain and so to avoid being identified with Spain the immigrants were called Portugese Jews. A few hundred years later many Jews arrived from Eastern Europe. Holland asked a well known public figure (can't remember his name) to make a judgement about whether the Jews should be able to live in Amsterdam etc and he claimed that they were no different from anyone else and they should be welcomed as God would welcome them. The one thing I remember about the synagogue is that it had no electricity - was lit by 1000 candles during services and I am sure it was colder inside than outside. Ann Frank's house was a rather moving example of the result of further persecution of the Jews with Nazi Germany invading Holland in 1940. Only 10% of the Jewish population survived the war and much to everyones surprise the synagogue was left largely untouched. Ann Frank's Father said that he made her diary available because ‘we can not build a future if we do not know the past’. Imagine living in hiding with the fear of being found out daily for 2 years as a teenager. No one knows who betrayed them, but the wonderful thing is that some very caring people did look after them and continue to run the business.

We visited the American Hotel. I had been told by someone at work that ‘the food is not great and its quite expensive but still worth a visit’. My curiousity got the better of me!! So, when riding on a tram I saw it we got off at the next stop to investigate. He was right it was worth seeing. It was an old building with quite unusual decorations, dark interior, stain glass windows with birds that looked like peacocks and very large chandeliers. We peeked inside but with Peter's comment decided that we wouldn't bother sampling the food or the coffee. We also had a look through Rembrandts House (he went bankrupt due to his rather extravagant tastes). Other architectural highlights were:

• all the houses have hoists so that when you are moving house you don't have trouble fitting furniture up narrow stair wells
• we wandered past the oldest house in a courtyard in the centre of Amsterdam. Now well restored and earthquake or subsidence proof probably, it didn't look that old. But was surrounded by a lovely peaceful courtyard of other homes, a retreat from the busyness of downtown Amsterdam. There was a little church - quite simple and beautiful
• and past the smallest house in Amsterdam - you'd have to be slim to get up those stairs.
  

I guess Holland is known for its tolerance of a number of things. Although the tulips weren't quite out in Amsterdam except in the market places, but the flower displays there were quite magnificent including the display of cannabis seeds (went to a Hemp Museum but the smell got to me after a very short time and we left). The Red Light district was well visited by tourists and possibly locals alike. Restaurants cooked any food but dutch - (except for the occasional pancake and apple tart). We found within two blocks of restaurants, Indian, Thai, Chinese, Japanese (Mooshi Mooshi Sushi) , Greek, Mexican, Italian, Argentinian, Brazilian, Belgian, Turkish, Indonesian, American (McD's and hot dog stands), - a testament to the fact that Dutch are tolerant of other cultures. We were so surprised that we had to have a coffee to write them all down before we forgot. With the coffees we always got a little biscuit - in the same packaging but often different. So, when Harry discoverred I got a chocolate one and he didn't we had to open them together and split them if they were different. Trams also gave away little Easter eggs so Haz got his share of chocolate.