We arrived in Venice by train this evening the sun was just about to set.
We decided to quickly walk to our hotel and then set out for an evening of Flânerie, a Venetian tradition of aimlessly walking about.
We were aimless because the trattoria that was recommended to us was closed, so our first night plan had flittered away.
Being a flâneur is a serious business in Venice, there are bridges to be found and a million things to look at. After 3 or 4 hours of flaneuring our feet were exhausted and our bellies were still empty. Time to retrace our steps to an Osterie that attracted us because of what it didn’t sell.
No Lasagne, no pizza.
It was also opposite a gorgeous green door.
And as it turned out, they sold some pretty amazing seafood.
I do trust my instincts to hunt for interesting images, but for accurate travelling I trust the App Citymapper far more. Our last few days in Rome and the daily 20,000 step count has got us to exactly where we have needed to be, thanks to Citymapper. Once we have delivered ourselves to the right location it is time to trust instinct to fine tune the hunt for the unusual. Rome was extraordinarily full of texture, history and Faith.
There is an awful lot of bling involved in Catholicism, not my thing at all. But I found a simple iron cross, some Sgraffito and some votive candles in a tiny back street. I layered the three together to get a much more humble image of the textures of Christianity than is normal for Rome.
Texture was definitely the defining experience of walking around Rome. Everything is beautiful and fascinating but the small unplanned details stopped us in our tracks.
Every excursion challenged our feet and minds. Pavements were poorly maintained but older cobbled areas maintained their integrity.
Gorgeous buildings were connected by slightly tatty walls but with so much more interest than a perfectly plastered finish
But history also found its way through perfect plastering.
You might think that travelling in Rome might bring more culture to the blog. And that is entirely possible in future days but today it is just going to be a ponderous ponder on my own daftness. Like many children I learnt a lot about the Romans when I was under 12. I knew that if I drew a man in a tunic and sandals with a sign saying SPQR then that would be accepted as a fair rendition of a Roman. In recent years the wonderful academic Mary Beard has kept me up to speed on all things Ancient Rome with her books and TV programmes.
I was somewhat flummoxed today to find the very same initials on contemporary refuse bins, public toilets and manhole covers.
Does that surprise anyone else? Or is it just me who finds this a little surprising to find those initials on such mundane items.
My inspiration to blog is not particularly noble. Someone, who had already irritated me had said that I had nothing interesting to say and that any blog I wrote would reflect that. I struggled a little to find my place in blogland. Then a variety of things occurred including a World Pandemic when, if we were lucky, none of us had much of interest to say. My blog evolved into what it currently is, a ponder on some small part of my day or a thought that I have had. Like many of us,my life has a repetitive pattern so I need to find a nugget of interest or something different about things I do every day. The photo above is a case in point. Last night’s dog walk took me just across the water from my home, my home is completely invisible, and would be even if the ferry had sailed away. Behind the ferry is a narrow strip of land occupied by the ferry port, the Ministry of Defence and a Primary School sports field. The tiny strip of land occupied by the Ministry of Defence is on a narrow rocky ridge, partially covered by trees. It is this ridge that obscures my view of the ferry from our side . Although as the trees lose their leaves we can see the bridge of the ferry if there is a high tide. If I were any good at throwing a hard ball I could give the crew on the Bridge a nasty shock as I write this blog. Similarly I could get you some fabulous drone footage of happy holidaymakers on the ferry from the comfort of my bed. However the Ministry of Defence would take a very very dim view of me flying a drone over their strip of land, so that is never going to happen. It never ceases to amaze me that so much is happening maybe 200 yards from my home and yet this is one of the most peaceful places I have ever lived. Just occasionally if the tide is right, there is a sensation of a thrum from the engines, or when the wind is in a favourable direction, we can hear the public announcements as the ferry gets ready to leave. As someone who loves to travel and loves the idea of travel I find there is something quite energising about living so close to a ferry port. My mind can travel vicariously every time the ferry leaves port and be equally gladdened by its safe arrival. And that my friends is why I blog, nattering about insignificant things to an invisible audience. Simple pleasures.
The last two days of travelling have taken us from the rain of Hong Kong via the crazy temperatures of Bangkok and the cool elegance of Vienna to May sunshine in Cornwall.
Hugo and Lolas holiday destination while we were away.
Given that we have spent much of that time trying to sleep in aircraft we have done a crazy level of steps over those two days. Allowing for time differences there was actually 24 hours of travel. A small amount of walking in Hong Kong on our departure day and a small amount of walking in Windsor after our arrival at Heathrow.
Windsor and Windsor Castle, still in party mood.
25,000 steps over two days when most of the time was spent in the air is remarkable. Some people would describe 12,500 steps a day, as a walking holiday.
Airport transfers are not most peoples idea of an enjoyable hike especially as we only ever travel with hand luggage of about 9 kg each. That’s us excused the gym for a few days. But travel resets the mind, our journey was primarily about meeting our newest family member, Cecily, in Hong Kong and we chose to not take the direct route so as not to overwhelm her parents and sibling with too long a stay.
Something completely unexpected occurred at the very end of our flight into Heathrow. We flew low over South London and our home villages of Crystal Palace and Dulwich. The early morning May sunshine was bright and clear. From my window seat I could photograph London Bridge Station which was my mainline commuter hub when I worked in the City.
St Bartholomews Hospital where I trained and worked.
And The Gherkin and Tower 42 where I celebrated my 60th Birthday.
Then in one final moment of serendipity we flew over Harrow School, 24 hours after leaving Harrow Hong Kong. Touch down at Heathrow and we made a quick exit and off to Windsor for a quick cup of coffee and a cheese straw to fuel the journey home.
‘A city can be many things, it’s people and their stories, urban experiences and how it is represented and seen by others. A place is made up of these qualities and impressions and is larger than the sum of its parts.’
This was the starting point, or inspiration for people leaving an exhibition about architecture and art in Hong Kong in the seventies and eighties. Members of the public were encouraged to use words or pictures to explain their relationship with Hong Kong, and then create a wall of art. It also seemed, to me, a good way to start a blog.
My starting point for Hong Kong was always Victoria Harbour, Chinese Lanterns and The Peak. When I was young I had an Uncle who travelled. Occasionally he would come home with gifts. Notably a night light featuring Victoria Harbour in the 1960’s. 10 years ago when I first travelled here Victoria Harbour was as exciting in real life as it was when I was 5 and the lights on the Pearl River were represented by pinholes in a lampshade.
Victoria Harbour May 2023
Chinese Lanterns because my jewellery box featured a large Pagoda with many doors or lids that had little lanterns as knobs.
The Peak was harder to replicate from my childhood memory. My travelling Uncle gazed wistfully out of a hilltop rainforest, in the black and white photos we had in our house, to remind us of his distant existence on The Peak. I have been to the Peak many times in the past 10 years and failed to quite replicate that feeling. But global warming has changed the weather for May and we found a trail we had not done before, along the Lugard Road. The Rainforest and the rain were suddenly recreated.
Hannah’s story begins with her birth and her parents, who had lived in Hong Kong and Asia for 16 years. Not for them the Peak and its aspirational dwellings but the hourly burly of Sham Shui Po.
And now, for the past 10 years Hong Kong has become the home of our family.
We come here, when there is not a global pandemic as often as we can.
Which ties this blog up as neatly as this aerial root in the Rainforest.
Who could guess how long ago someone tied this root in a knot. Many years ago when it was soft and pliable. Now it is rock hard and helps to hold a high tree on the rocky edge of a precipice.
Fit to burst, the image above was a rusty post box, not my actual flesh.It exactly replicates how I began to feel after a 16 dish tasting tour of the oldest land market in Bangkok. Nang Loeng Market. Another day of being overwhelmed in Bangkok and still avoiding the tourist traps. 42 degrees (feels like 50) is, possibly, not the best temperature for gastronomic excess.
Another downer for Gastronomic failure is my sensitivity to shellfish, something I have loved since childhood when my grandparents pub was visited on a Friday by a local fishmonger with fresh cockles, mussels and whelks. 30 odd years of shellfish love cascaded from me after a dodgy Oyster in Plymouth. There had been an earlier 6 month sensitivity in my twenties. The trouble is I love seafood. I continue to be a seafood lover with some degree of caution.
Our first dish, of the 16 was mussels.
A moments dilemma, these were cooked by the King of Thailand’s seafood chef. It would have been rude not to, and no ill effects were suffered. 16 dishes later there was definitely a sense of gastric disquiet caused by gluttony and not a seafood toxin.
The Michelin Guide of Thailand.
The other 14 courses will get their moment in the blog but today just 1 and 2.
It was never our plan to escape one Coronation to leap headlong into another country’s Coronation celebrations. And yet that is what we have done and there are similarities. Today in Britain, Camilla a former Royal Mistress was crowned Queen. Here in Bangkok there are a confusing number of women on the celebratory arches built over busy roads.
Royal Purple was a theme in both capital cities.
While this 4 day public holiday in Thailand is celebrating a past Coronation, the city has plenty of extra bling to enhance our visit. We also stumbled upon a Budha wholesale store. More bling.
Trying desperately to stick to the best advice on Jetlag. We adopted the timing of Thailand the minute we arrived. As we faltered in the afternoon we swam, a lot, and then watched the British Coronation live on BBC News channel. Then set off on a random street walk to get supper and found a street food store that first opened in 1939.
Here we are in a quiet backwater of a city celebrating Coronation Day. There are flags of red, white and blue and brilliant yellow and white drapes adorning important buildings. Coronation Day/ Weekend is held in Bangkok every year to celebrate the coronation of their King in May 2016.
This year the King has taken a trip to London so is missing his own party. We quietly enjoyed pancake rolls and fried noodles after a lengthy journey to get here.
Giddy times. Our passports are out and about. Last night for the first time we needed photo ID to vote.
Voting in the romantically named, St Peter and The Waterfront Ward
Today we are off, leaving Britain before the big party. Nothing says peak celebratory cuisine any more succinctly than a motorway services stop.
Not that I am completely turning away from Royalty. My travel books are accidentally aligned to the theme of the weekend
This one should be finished in the airport and left for a different life with someone else.
And then out of the blue this ebook dropped onto my virtual library shelf last night, after a considerable time on a virtual book waiting list.
I am about a chapter in, so for now, I have no strong sense of what I am getting into. Queenie, the actual paperback, is a really good read. Whoever picks it up will get a treat. It is a travelling book. I picked it up on International Womens’ Day at a glorious gathering of interesting women, and one man, who shared stories, laughter, tears, cake and books. The end of a week, tomorrow will be quite a different blog.
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