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Beyond Fawlty Towers
Nyanga was the Zimbabwe town set in beautiful countryside ravaged by wildfires, our hotel nestled in woodland with neat lawns and its own trout pool. Apart from a suspiciously empty car park there was at first nothing to tell us that we were about to step into a place so badly run that its comedy of errors would lead us to dub the place “Beyond Fawlty Towers”. Just how many issues can one hotel cram into three nights? It begins in reception, where for the first time in all of Africa we are met with straight faces instead of welcoming smiles. Having confirmed in advance that we could pay by…
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Waiter, There’s A Praying Mantis In My Soup
Two out of the ordinary things happened this morning even before breakfast. Floating in my bedside glass of water was the lifeless carcass of a moth, having evidently drowned some time during the night. Outside on the terrace, equally lifeless, was a strawberry. I don’t grow strawberries, I have none in the house and haven’t had for some considerable time, so exactly how a big juicy red strawberry could end up just laying there on the paving slab a few feet from my door is something of a mystery. Whilst the story of the strawberry is one to ponder, it doesn’t evoke the same sense of injustice as the story…
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Michaela’s Favourite Photographs #12: Village Party
A mountain village north of Foça, Turkey, 2012. It might have been a funeral, so we held back, not wishing to intrude on whatever this private village gathering was. But they called us in, beckoned us to join the strange procession in which every member of the village was playing their part. Invited to dance to the music, cans of beer thrust into our hands, the smiles of these mountain dwellers told us we were going to be part of the celebration. The event was in honour of Mohammad, a young boy passing from youth to adulthood: in essence, a party to celebrate his circumcision.
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Characters On The Buddha Train – Part 1
We started our recent journey around South East Asia with what was effectively a “train cruise” visiting some of the most important places in the life of Buddha. During our posts we touched on some of the characters we met on that train. Here we delve a bit deeper into those experiences in a 2-part post about life on the Buddha train…. We’d never done it before, been on an organised trip like this, so we were probably the ones sticking out like sore thumbs as we tried to gauge some sort of assessment of our fellow passengers. Who would be on a “train cruise” through India tracing the story…
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Nudity, Numpties & Numbers: Back Home Once Again
A few years back in the Canary Islands, we (or rather Michaela) suffered a moment of extreme embarrassment which you can read about HERE. But wow our last few days in Panama so nearly brought another… The sound of the door closing behind me was the first sign that I’d made something of an error of judgment. Long before going to bed it had started to dawn on me that the draught beer in The American Bazaar in downtown Casco Viejo was considerably stronger than I had realised, not least because the flat paving slabs had somehow become just as difficult to walk on as the cobbles – they just…
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Travel Stories: Pedro And The Strange Bed
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Sometimes It’s The Little Things…..
Travel may bring once-in-a-lifetime experiences, give us memories we will treasure for ever, but if you keep a journal, or, indeed, a blog, you also build up a collection of those funny little moments….. He appears out of nowhere as we walk across the sand dunes. “Guten tag. Wie geht es dir?”, he asks “Wir sind Englisch, nicht Deutsch”. “Oh you are from England. Where from? London, Manchester? Let me tell you one thing, this place is so much better with guide. A guide who knows.” “We don’t need a guide. Thank you. We are OK”, says Michaela. “OK. You need to know way to beach? I can show you”.…
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More Tales From American Bars
In our short stay in the well heeled wine country town of Napa we were to fall in love with Downtown Joe’s, one of many bars around the World which have etched themselves into our travel memories. Our first call there though was ahead of the fun of nighttime and was instead in the bright afternoon sunshine, outdoors rather than in its welcoming interior. As ever, it doesn’t take long to get into conversation, the guy in the Santana T-shirt at the next table was soon in conversation, welcoming us to the state he loves and interested to know who we are, where we come from. Not long into our…
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Run For Home: When COVID Began
Many travellers faced a panic run for home as the world shut down as the seriousness of the pandemic began to sink in. This is our own story of March 2020, when COVID began…. We walked hand in hand back from the deserted seafront and past the desolate locked hotels, trying to eke some romance out of the ghost town which surrounded us. Murky grey mists hung over the flat calm sea dotted with idle tour boats anchored out of harm’s way. As we turned the last corner towards the hotel, a figure in the street ahead was gesticulating wildly, arms waving in the air, his movements frantic. It took…
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Travel Stories: Pedro And The Strange Bed
The bus station was quiet as we alighted in Santa Cruz, no passengers to board our bus, the cafe empty and, most notably, nobody hawking rooms. Close by was a map of the town: there were no hotels marked on it. The tourist information office was, helpfully, closed. Next step in these circumstances is usually to enter a bar and ask if they have rooms available; even if the answer is negative, they will normally have a “cousin” with rooms to let. Except, it seemed, in Santa Cruz, where all such enquiries met with blank faces and that all too recognisable shrug of Spanish shoulders. And so our backpack laden…
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Nudity, Numpties & Numbers: Back Home Once Again
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Travel Stories: Under Pressure In Turkey
As I switched on the ignition, dashboard warning lights, instead of fading out after a couple of seconds, stayed shining and winking like an aeroplane cockpit. The first of these said flat tyre. “Not problem, not problem”, said the car hire guy, waving his hands dismissively and pointing me towards the vehicle exit. Even as I walked around studying the four tyres, each with no obvious sign of defect, he continued to bark the same phrase. “Not problem, not problem”. Hire car boss man came over to intervene, helpfully grabbing Google translate on his mobile and pointing to the word “tyre”. I held my palms upwards to show the international…
