Biking along the Camel

Friday night saw our little yellow Saxo hoofing it along the motorway with our bags in the boot, bikes on the back and us in the front. We arrived at Liskeard after one stop at a picnic place where we shared the seat with a blackberry and some stinging nettle (well Harry did - I opted for leaning on the car bonnet) and after unpacking and a short trip around the town decided that there wasn't much to see on a quiet Friday night so we opted for a reasonably early night.  That was before Harry exhausted himself doing a Lenny Henry act by jumping backwards onto the bed - unfortunately he'll have to do it all over again when we stay at that hotel chain again because I didn't use the flash and the photos came out too dark - he wasn't too impressed but he slept well!! Saturday we were off to Bodmin (in the car) and then Padstow (on the bikes). The bike track runs along the old railway line virtually flat but with a wind which always seemed against us no matter which direction we were travelling.   Along the Camel River we cycled and then along side the estuary which at low tide was a big mud puddle with a few sand banks as we got closer to Padstow.  I love those  boats stranded by the low tide and the way owners tend them during that natural dry dock.  The bird life is meant to be quite something - and we did see something that looked a bit like an egret and the wildflowers - mainly yellow here - irises, butter cups and daisies. The bike path was quiet - a good place for a knocked down cyclist to get her confidence back (just have to watch out for kids, walkers and dogs - this was no place for serious cyclists as pedestrians have right of away).  Lots of people our age enjoying the reasonably flat ride and the sunshine.  Past lots of old stations with names like Grogley Halt, Dunmere Halt and Nanstallon Halt where the only thing looking pristine and cared for was the name of the station.

All the way to Padstow - a cute little fishing village come tourist spot, with a nice beach you could walk to by traversing a hill, a port stranded by the tide, nice little buildings that were either homes, shops (home of cornish pasties and fudge), or cafes and a highly recommended fish and chip shop which we were told we had to try.  Fudge was great, fish and chips a bit more like we get in NZ and coffee hot - so we were happy chappies (or should I say chippies).  We enjoyed a walk in the sunshine up the hill and over the top where we past lots of seats dedicated to the memory of past visitors and residents. The seats were in a long row and were something special - instead of the seats all looking the same with a little dedication plate - many of the seats were different ie wrought iron sides, one plank of wood, lots of planks and some even different colours.  I quite liked the random nature of it all - it sort of says lots about the people that frequent this little village.  We wandered the hill to Prideaux Place which was closed on Saturdays so peered over the fence and through the opened gate - another time maybe - knowing we had a long bike ride (21 kms in fact) back to the car we decided we wouldn't walk further up the hill to get a birds eye view of this mansion - we'd leave that to the seagulls.  So, back along the disused railway line and back through the wooded path to Bodmin (with a stop at Wadebridge - where we hoped to go to the Royal Cornwall Show but decided after following a bus (with the show as its destination) for a while that it was a few more kilometres out of town than we wanted to travel).

Question: Why is fudge better when made in Cornwall?  Answer it isn't the clotted cream or buttermilk they use but the original Cornish recipe is boiled in a copper kettle.
Question: Why do cornish pasties taste better in Cornwall?  We don't think they do - whatever happened to that traditional recipe?

It is world cup time over here and it is almost feverish.  Every where we go cars are sporting little English flags - some as many as 10 blowing in the wind (and sometimes off in the wind) as cars drive to the nearest tv.  Saturday was England's first game - against a little   less favourite team the US.  How could we resist watching. In the evening we opted for a dinner at the inn next to the hotel and watching game in the bar with a few others. We enjoyed the game but also the reaction of the crowd as England scored a goal and then the keeper fumbled a catch to give US the equaliser. Poor Mr Green - I bet you he wanted to crawl into his bed and cover his head that night. There was an article on the radio driving home about coaches and Des O'Connor admitted he thought Prince Charles would be the best coach as he could encourage his team before a game with "One wouldn't want one one would one". On Tuesday Harry and I were saying "Yes one would" as NZ drew against Slovakia (nothing on the news - I guess the oil spill, report on Bloody Sunday, problems in Uzbekistan were considered higher priority) and we keep wondering why there is not a special news time like at home.  Anyway, back to the pub. We were seated behind a group of young men - who half way through the game noticed us and Harry's Hurricanes tee-shirt. The game must have been boring because for the next 30 minutes they would turn to us and make comments and then came over for a conversation on the merits of northern and southern hemisphere rugby, Super 14 and other rugby topics such as the Australian vs England, and NZ vs Ireland games played earlier that day as well as a bit of family history like parents retiring to Blenheim.  The end of the game produced lots of head shaking,  despondent looks and more consumption of beer. While walking back to the hotel I wondered if you lined up the people staying at the hotel and tried to pair them with the cars parked outside how many you could accurately pair up. Would we get paired with the £100,000 Ferrari, the new red and white mini, a black sedan or our little car. Interesting trivia really.  Next day we took off to Tintagel where we followed a similar path to our bike ride the previous day. We were glad we hadn't taken the 'high' road with cars the day before as there were a few more hills than we had tackled. We stopped at Tintagel Post Office which is a 14th-century stone house in the middle of the seaside village.  It was really a house but in the 19th century the house was used as the district letter-receiving office.  Lovely spring garden and great wavy roof that sort of says "Come inside". There we met Sam the volunteer whose husband and son have gone to a jam processing plant in Geraldine leaving her behind to complete her immigration details. Think she is looking forward to joining them.  Tintagel Castle was only a stones throw away from the post office - well if you don't count the big down and up in between.  We climbed the 100 odd steps to one part of the castle had our picnic (international cuisine for us - Spanish grapes, Kiwi shapes and Italian biscuits - not particularly nutritious but light to carry up all those steps). Erosion has taken its toll which original walls having fallen in and a large gap appearing between two parts of the castle.  This is where the legend of King Arthur was born - somewhere around the 13th Century Castle - when it was still relatively new and in the ownership of Richard, Earl of Cornwall.  

And then onto Boscastle which was devastated by floods in 2004 - I can remember seeing some footage in tele back in NZ.  We saw a short video of the flood in the museum wandered towards the breakwaters and little harbour and then back to the car just as the rain came.  

And last but not least.  We were talking to Mike and Barbara last week about the election.  They mentioned that constituency's (that's the English name for electorates) are not the same size in England.  "What!!" I said in shock "Surely not!! That means everyones' vote isn't equal - or should I say some are more equal than others".  But over lunch and a coffee they continued this story about political boundaries and so arriving back in Bristol I did some research. Most electorates are somewhere between 70,000 and 90,000 voters but  the smallest is around 21,000 (Western Isles) and largest electorate the Isle of Wight with 108,000 voters.  No wonder people are calling for reform.  Labours strong holds are the smaller sized seats so they don't want

 reform while the Lib Dems want proportional representation and the Conservatives are looking only for equal constituency sizes.  All looking like a good debate going forward - and guess what - they will be looking to New Zealand and Australia for guidance and advice.  Mike and Barbara did express surprise that we were allowed to vote - so finally I got around to looking up "Who can not vote in a UK parliamentary election?"  The answer is young people under 18, foreign nationals unless you are a citizen of the Irish Republic or commonwealth countries living in Britain, members of the House of Lords, sentenced prisoners, people convicted within the previous five years of illegal election practices.  So, we were eligible after all!  

Harry went to the optician on Monday and the optician is immigrating to NZ in a fortnights time (that's Number 3 for people we have heard of in one weekend going to Kiwiland).

Crowded House and Carding Mill

Wednesday morning we were tired after having got back from the Italian Lakes well after midnight.  We just aren't used to late nights and early mornings. But we managed to get enough energy together without having a power nap to go to Crowded House on Wednesday evening at Colston Hall.  We were lucky to get tickets - our first attempt said 'sold out' but a friend at work had managed to get some.  He was then given 2 more as a wedding present and so we bought his spare tickets - lucky us.  Some people said 'Who?' when we said where we were going but there is a pretty big following of this group in England and most people said 'Lucky you' as tickets are hard to come by.  Neil Finn was in his element - providing not only good music but entertainment as well.  We listened to a number of new songs which we hadn't actually heard before, and then old favourites like  "Fall at Your Feet", "Weather with You", "Not the Girl You Think You Are" etc.  The show was at Colston Hall and half way through the show Neil Finn asked the audience if they knew who Colston was.  The audience was pretty quiet and someone suggested he was a slave trader.  Surely not said Neil Finn (well words to that affect). So onto Google during the week and guess what he has a hall and a number of streets named after him and yes he was a slave trader but also established Colston Boys' School in the early 1700's in the same building as we listened to Crowded House. A man with a bit of public spirit and a bit more of a not so public spirit. The show started with Connan Mockasin (ever heard of him - well we should have because he and his band hale from Wellington. They were quite fun to watch and listen to but not the sort of music I would buy a CD of (not that we buy many). It seems that Neil Finn has taken this new band under his wing as they came and played in the last couple of Crowded House songs. To make us feel even more homesick we had taken a packet of Jaffas along with us (Cadbury may be in England but the Jaffa is strictly a Southern Hemisphere luxury). On the packet we read that 'In the days of cinemas with wooden floors, fun loving children would giggle uncontrollably as they listened to the sound of their Cadbury's Jaffas bouncing down the aisles.  With the introduction of carpet and grumpy adults this leisure activity is now extinct'.  So, I started to remember the times we rolled jaffas down the floors at the movies and Harry said he never did 'probably because he likes chocolate too much'.  So, we saved a couple and at the end of the evening we waited for most people to leave and started too roll - and it is sad and true - these willing little Jaffas didn't roll even one step.  We got talking to a couple who asked us what we were doing and after explaining and offering them a couple of left over jaffas they told us about their visit and living in New Zealand (Havelock North).  By the time we had spent an hour chatting Harry had become an expert jaffa roller explaining the techniques as well as his adventures watching the Giant Jaffa Roll down Dunedin's Baldwin Street (now I am the envious one). He didn't know all the facts and figures eg Baldwin Street has a gradient of 1 in 2.86 at its steepest section and is officially recognised in the Guinness Book of Records, 25,000 Giant Jaffas were rolled down during the charity roll, but did mention that the sweets were numbered, and told of children leaning over to grab one before too much rubber and petrol had got onto the orange outside. Anyway, for those of you who don't know much about the famous jaffa - here goes...

• they are made by Cadbury and are little round balls of orange candy coated chocolate
• they have been made in NZ since 1931
• they are so popular that Kiwis abroad often phone home asking to be sent another box (really!!).
• many Kiwis enjoy rolling a Jaffa around in their mouth and seeing who's can last the longest
• in 2009 over nearly 90 tonne of Jaffas were made and the average number eaten daily were 126,404.

Harry even remember to pick up the rolled jaffas and took them back to wash!!

And that was late night Number 2.  Thursday we went to see Jane and Davids new home - no more walking around to their place for dinner - well we could but they don't just live around the corner now but they are about 2 miles away and we went to an Indian restaurant in their new community. That was Late night Number 3.  Friday we went to sleep real early. Because Saturday we were up and about to get ready to meet Barbara and Mike up at Carding Mill.  We had a nice long walk up the valley, along the top and back down to Little Stretton and Church Stretton enjoying a warm day, the views and the company.  In the evening we drove back to Northampton and spent the evening eating a Chinese (fit for a king in quantity and also quality) and the next day had a walk to Kislingbury (a short walk says Mike and Barbara but the internet says 4 miles from Northampton) and around the countryside.  Mike told us about St Crispins sitting high up on the hill which was unfortunately an asylum for those less fortunate than ourselves but has since been closed down and is now a housing estate.  We had lunch at a pub in Kislingbury, wandered into another (where the publican showed me around and I promised to go back again one day when we were hungry), and then inspected the flood controls in the new estates in Northampton which has suffered from fairly severe flooding over the last few decades.  And Sunday was another early night.

Italian Lakes

Whoever designed the Italian Flag must have been inspired by Spring time in the Italian Lakes.  A patch of  green for the wakening of spring with the lush grass and trees, white for the jasmine, clematis and snow topped mountains climbing high up into the misty sky and red for the rhododendrons and roses that are flowering along the roadside and in many gardens.

While waiting for our very delayed flight from Gatwick we read a newspaper to wile away the hours and discovered that it is 75 years since the first person took their driving test in England. The drivers licence in England has quite an interesting past - we were a bit surprised ...

• 1930 - Disabled drivers faced age restrictions and driving tests with renewal of the licence every year.
• 1931 - The first highway code was published
• 1934 - The first licence for truck drivers and then one year later a voluntary test for for car drivers 
• 1935 - C0mpulsory tests came in. Mr J Beene was the first person to pass his driving test (not sure though if he was the first one to sit the compulsory test).  The fatality rate from road accidents was over 7000 - huge considering the number of vehicles on the road compared to now - and within a year the number of deaths had fallen by 1000 - obviously did some good. In the first year 246,000 people applied and the success rate was just over 60% past first time.  
• 4 years later the tests were suspended due to World War 2 but they began again in 1946.
• 1956 - Tests were again suspended during the Suez Crisis. Learners were allowed to drive by themselves and test examiners were required to administer petrol rations.
• 1957 - Driving tests back on and never been off since.
• 1990 - Drivers were now told what they did wrong and where they could improve.
• 1996 - Learners had to complete a theory test - this was the surprise as both Harry and I remember having to sit one many decades ago.

So, why is that so fascinating? There is a connection.  By the time we had driven around Italy for four days we had decided that Italian drivers, cyclists, motor cyclists and pedestrians all need a bit of a brush up on road safety. Key things would be 'look before you walk across the road', 'stay single file on narrow roads around the lake', 'drive in one lane and not across two', 'only pass cars when there is no other vehicle coming the other way', 'slow down a bit' etc etc. Italy has just under twice the number of fatalities for a similar population to the UK while in New Zealand there are just under 300 but admittedly the number of cars on the road is significantly smaller. Perhaps Italian drivers are inspired by the closeness of Monza racing track (we spent a lazy morning there looking at the track, wandering through the trees to certain vantage points and driving to ones further away. It is a fairly old track (just had its 75th anniversay a couple of years ago) and there is still the old sloping track running along the side. It was a warm sunny day and we were surprised that the track had lots of trees to cool the cars and crowds (including some old gates and a chicken farm). Just after the laying of the first stone back in 1922 work was suspended for reasons of "artistic and monumental value and landscape conservation". Two months later the plan was approved because car builders wanted somewhere to test vehicles at top speeds and also test their manoeuvrability and resilience under extreme conditions.

But that isn't the end of our transport commentary - parking was also fun. We spent lots of minutes looking at parking metres trying to work out if we needed to pay and how much. It didn't seem as straight forward as in other countries. One place beside the lake in a lovely little village we only needed to pay on Sundays (it was Sunday when we went visiting), others were in Switzerland (we had forgotten to take Swiss Francs with us - there were some back in Bristol), others were free after a certain time (which differed between neighbouring streets) and others had Italian that just wasn't in our little language book at all. We weren't the only ones struggling - in Switzerland we decided to park and have a picnic beside the lake when an Italian came and asked us in fluently in his native tongue if we had to pay. We had sat near the car so we could spy parking wardens coming around the corner. We sort of signalled in sign language that we had no Francs and he smiled. We had finished our first cup of tea before he gave up asking those walking and trying to decipher the instructions.  Don't know whether he ended up paying or not.  We did have a great time in Italy - as we drove, walked, boated and rode cable cars. We spent at least one day driving around Lake Maggiore and the others driving to places of interest.  This lake is less touristy than the others and we enjoyed the minimal crowds and the nice weather.  The drive took us up into Switzerland to the tip of the lake where Locarno sits at the foot of the mountains (that is where we had our cup of tea). We also drove to a 13th century monastery L'Eremo di Santa Caterina del Sasso Balaro which was built in a cliff face near the southern tip.  An extraordinary piece of architecture down 120 steeps steps to the lake edge with some wonderful frescos and one of the best views from a loo window over the lake (pity it was a squat one so you didn't hang around for long looking at the view - perhaps that was the point).

And boats took us to little islands and villages - and when we were tired we watched the scenery go by while basking in the sun (the trip on Lake Como was a bit wet at the front of the boat - I often wondered if the captain used to time how long it look the tourists to leave and go into the back or indoors - we lasted a while but not too long). We walked for miles and miles. Firstly around the little islands in Lake Maggiore - Isola Pescatori where there was barely an inch that wasn't covered in buildings or little cobbled paths and stalls and Isola Bella where the Borromean family had their homestead and a great garden (this family owns large quantities of land around here and are well known through out the ages) as well as a little chapel with marble tombs.  The homestead was different to other ancestral homes we had seen with unusual grottos at lake level, marble ceilings and there was a charm and simplicity about the place.

Another day we took a boat to Nesso. We had a great view of most of the little villages overlooking Lake Como and Nesso appealed to us because of the comment in the guide book (haven't we learnt yet?).'Unless you catch a quick glimpse of the arched stone bridge as you pass through Nesso, you might be tempted not to stop. But those who have first seen Nesso from the lake knows that far below the road is one of the loveliest vignettes on the lake. Follow the steeply descending cobbled strees and stone stairs along the south side of the deep rocky ravine, which slices the town in half, to emerge at lake level...Deep inside the ravine there is a spectacular water fall...the boats do not stop here but further north from which you must climb to road level before descending again into the cleft'.  So, we hopped off the boat full of anticipation and began to climb the pretty vertical cobbled stairs up to the top - some of them didn't look as though they had been used much while others were closer to housing and although crumbling didn't have so much stinging nettle growing in the cracks.  So, we arrived at the top (our fitness levels are improving) wandered along and stared down at the waterfall, gorge and the little roman bridge (afterall this is what we had come to see) and then walked along to the steps down the other side.  Didn't take that long...but...at the bottom we explored the bridge and the gorge and then wondered if there was another way to go back up.  We asked a local (in hand signals) and he pointed to another path which we started to walk along - within a minute we were back at the boat jetty.  We couldn't stop laughing but had time to enjoy our lunch in the sun sitting by the lake before the boat came to take us back to Como.

We caught a couple of cable cars during the weekend - known as funiculars. The first we spied from Lake Maggiore which took us high up in the hills above Stressa - which would have given us a great view of the lakes and mountains if only the mist and rain hadn't descended the same time we ascended. From the top the view was a murky grey and it was raining so we went down half way to the alpine gardens and then walked the rest of the way. The trip through the subalpine gardens gave us a slightly better view of the lake and we spent some time watching lizards scamper through the garden.  Our visit culminated in the owner giving us a map and with hand signals telling us how to walk down. Some Germans followed us and with hand signals we showed them the wrong way, and then the right way to head down hill (not an easy descent). Another day we caught this little Funicular in Laveno up the Sasso del Ferro which gave us slightly better views of the little lake side village between clouds.

Our last walk was around Como (known for the setting for James Bond in Casino Royale and Oceans Twelve) as well as its fabulous Duomo - the only criticism is that it was hard to take a good photo. It was built in the 14th Century and is quite a mix of architecture. Inside it had the Lords Prayer in tiles in 15 languages which I thought was quite special. Also around the lakes was a memorial to those who died in the First World War and at Hiroshima.
"Will this dreadful experience lead to anything? there must be a deep and sustained change of heart, otherwise even this lesson will have served no purpose".

Pier Amato Perretta (killed in the First World War)

And then onto the art museum where I had seen that there was a Rubens exhibition on. I didn't need too much Italian to pick that up but lots of luck as we parked right beside the museum without even knowing it was on. Rubens was around in the 17th century and although Flemish spent some time in Italy. We couldn't take photos of course, but were amazed to see we could go right up to the paintings and look at how they had survived 400 years - they were great. There were other artists too - a couple of Van Dycks, Boel and some we hadn't heard of before.

http://sites.google.com/site/rubensatcomo/home/paintings-25-28

And last but not least were the hotels. We stayed in Varese and although quite central was not a place we wanted to spend much time in. The hotel was reasonably nice, good food (well an Aussie rugby team and a group of Police were happy as well so that says something) but our room was right above the reception area. Coach trips leaving at 6.00 in the morning, soccer players on the fields at 10.00 in the evening, and smokers outside were enough to give us a few sleepless nights. After the first night we asked why our air conditioning wasn't working (closing the windows on a hot night would have drowned out some of the noise) but were told during spring the air conditioning wasn't turned on (not impressed we decided another night like the first and we would ask to change our room). In Stressa hotels are famous and along the lakeside expensive (try 500 euros a night - is any hotel worth that much!!). Ernest Hemingway set some of his novel Farewell to Arms in the Grand Hotel des Iles Borromees. I haven't read it but apparently it is a story based on his war time experiences - its the story of a volunteer in the Italian army. And that brings me to my next topic. During the weekend we heard lots of Italian, French and German - but very little English. The restaurants we visited had menus in Italian and so with the help of our trusty language book and an occasional waiter who haltingly explained dishes in broken English we ate well. They were always pleased when we asked for the bill in Italian (we had to practice it every meal time under our breath a few times to remember).