Are you planning for your next family vacation but not sure where to go? How about exploring a whole new world that is popular for its clear waters, white sandy beaches, amazing water sports and 5-star resorts? If you’re convinced, start packing your bags to head towards a paradise in the Indian Ocean, Maldives, a tropical nation, composed of 26 ring-shaped atolls, made up of more than 1,000 coral islands and renowned for its natural beauty. Continue reading “Planning for Your Next Family Vacation? How About Maldives?”
The legendary Ferrari F40 is, and has been for decades, my favourite Ferrari. Nay, my favourite car, full stop. I owned one once. A Burago scale replica, of course. Not the real thing. A few cars have pushed it close at the top of my automotive rankings. Jaguar’s XJ220 is a beaut. Ferrari’s Testarossa is the most classic Pininfarina design of my lifetime. I also had a real soft spot for Alfa Romeo’ SZ. Continue reading “The Definition of Jealousy”
We picked up a punt from Scudamore’s that we’d pre-booked online for 90 mins the day before. You save a little money that way. About a fiver. And 90 minutes is plenty enough time. Or so says I, the punter in chief. The puntees might have liked a little longer to quaff a bit more prosecco and binge on a few more strawberries. Continue reading “Punting in Cambridge”
London is a huge metropolis, not the sort of city that can be seen in a day. Indeed, you could live there your entire life and not see the half of it. But in lieu of residency, I’d recommend a hotel stay. Perhaps Hotels In Acton like Holiday Inn London West would suit you, or maybe a Hyde Park Boutique Hotel Like The Westbourne London is more up your street. Alternatively, you could Book Hotels in Paddington London and see if you can track down the area’s most famous bear.
This is a public service announcement by the Mexile in association with an awful lost of frustration and angst. Roughly 24 hours before Mrs P and I were due to fly to Mexico for our two week holiday, there was what I shall refer to as an ‘incident’. I won’t bore you with the details of the ‘incident’. Just one of the consequences. The most pressing consequence. Mrs P was no longer in possession of her Biometric Residence Permit. This Continue reading “Travelling On A Lost/Stolen BRP”
What to say about our short break in the Scottish Highlands? I could write a short essay on the quality of the guest house we stayed at. But I won’t. Suffice it to say that Lochview was wonderful, one of the finest (possibly the finest) guesthouse we have ever had the pleasure of spending a night in. Clean, fabulously comfortable beds, welcoming and helpful hosts and a cracking breakfast for a very reasonable price. Oh, it has terrific Continue reading “The Highland Review”
Got mountains. Got camera. Got Adobe Lightroom to turn it all black and white. Well, aren’t I just the new Ansel Adams? Obviously I’m not, for a whole bunch of reasons that don’t really need to be explained. But it’s nice to pretend for a moment. Ansel Adams arguably had a slightly more dramatic mountain range to shoot. Just don’t argue the point with a Highlander. He will kill you, turn your skin into a smart new jacket and Continue reading “Just Like Ansel”
There’s a good set of benefits for those of us lucky enough to work on the railways. As is to be expected in a unionised industry that is very proactive when it comes to collective bargaining. As things should be in most industries if you ask me, but that’s another story. Pay, pensions, holidays and more all have generous terms. But there’s one benefit I really do like making the most of. The travel perks. Continue reading “The Caledonian Sleeper”
Spring is in the air. In a metaphorical sense more than a literal sense. The days have gotten longer and sunset has been deferred an hour thanks to the switch to British Summer Time. Crocuses and cherry blossom are in bloom. The sun shines brightly on good days, giving us deep blue skies with pillow white clouds. Early morning are greeted with a chorus of birdsong. But if you closed your eyes over the last week, you mightd be Continue reading “Mapperton House”
It was hard to put my finger on it. Initially, it was just a sense of absence. But I couldn’t quite work out what it was. As our holiday drew on, the sensation became more profound. I started looking around me to see if I couldn’t spot the problem. But how to see something that isn’t there? That’s a tough one. But it gnawed on me. An itch that wouldn’t go away. I kept pondering this mysterious shortcoming. Of course, I eventually, I found the answer to my question. There was something missing in Istanbul. And I wanted to know what it was. But first, let’s look at what wasn’t missing….
How can the meeting point between east and west be anything other than a blend of intoxicating culture, music, art, noise and food? Nothing is at it seems, and new tastes and experiences are around every corner. But most of all, nothing beats waking up to the call of prayer in Asia, and an hour later you are washed, dressed and a 20 minute boat ride from Europe. At no stage are you ever under the illusion that you are close to home.
The ferries are fantastic, with regular services whisking you to a selection of well placed ports for just a few pence. There’s also a decent bus services, again at just a few pence a trip. There’s a pretty expansive metro system too. How much? You guessed it. Just a few pence. Taxis are just for emergencies. They are not just a couple of pence. The unwary may find a short trip takes longer than expected and costs not just a couple of pounds. Get a plastic travel card which can be topped up. It makes life easy. And it’s safe to say Istanbul is not missing a good transport network.
Shop Till You Drop
You can’t have a big city without a big selection of shops to go spend your hard earned money. Istanbul doesn’t disappoint. There are plenty of bazaars, markets and corner shops aimed at the tourists. And there’s an even healthier selection of everyday shops to get essentials. I like walking around the everyday shops, wherever I am. Just to see what Jaffa Cakes are called in foreign lands. I didn’t buy any Jaffa Cakes though. Mrs P and I did come home with 1/2 a kilo of freshly groun Turkish coffee, a box of mixed Turkish Delight, a steel pepper grinder, assorted bags of pepper and spices and a bag full of fridge magnets.
The streets of Istanbul bustle with life. What sort of life and what sort of activities depend on where you might be. In Taksim, the people are young and hip. On the European side, they are a bit wealthier. In our part of town, on the Asian side, they were friendly, down to earth people, working hard to make a living. By the river we found them playing dominos in street cafes. On every side they were friendly. Istanbul is, by any definition, a pretty safe city with a dozen vibes to choose from depending on your mood.
The Easy Life
Every big city needs it’s nearby happy place to escape to. Istanbul has a series of pleasant, green and hilly little islands, all within an hour by ferry of the city centre. The water is clear and refreshingly cool. Too refreshingly cool for my taste. I’m a Pacific Ocean kind of guy. I need warm water with waves to jump around in. But I liked our trip to the islands nonetheless. The bike ride to the church at the top of the mountain was nice. Coasting back to the town was nicer. The delicious ice cream was the nicest. But if the ferry ride isn’t for you, you can always jump on a bus to the Black Sea. We did that too. The water was still too refreshingly cool for me. But I dipped my toes, just to check another body of water off of my To Do list.
Istanbul is an Islamic city. It’s not, however, the sort of city that throws gay people from towers, stones adulterous women for their indiscretions or decapitates infidels. If that has cleared anything up for you, you’ve been watching too much of the wrong sort of TV. Islam is not a religion of peace. No religion is. It does have a problem with extremists, as do all other religions. But in Istanbul, you’ll just get to enjoy the fruits of President Ataturk’s secularist policy that saw the country look forward toward the west, not backward to the south east of Arabia. The Blue Mosque is a sight to behold, as is the Hagia Sofia. I also really enjoyed the Museum of Turkish and Islamic Art, which boasted a treasure trove of literature, pots and pans, fabrics, and paintings from down the centuries.
The Hagia Sofia is the epitome of the blend of east and west. Once a church, then a mosque and now a museum. But there are better places to learn Turkish history and their place in the world over the years. We went to both the Dolmabahce and the Topkapi palaces, which were as magnificent in their splendour as many a western European palace. They both told the story of Turkey. From their role in the Roman Empire, which culminated in the Byzantine Empire. The Ottoman Empire through to the Republic. With plenty more told about the before and afters of all those eras. I enjoyed seeing the 4.5 ton chandelier gifted to the Turks by Queen Victoria, hanging in pride of place in the grand hall at the Topkapi. And pleased by this too. Normally, you read about absent artefacts with a note that they can currently be seen in the British Museum in London. Needless to say though, I didn’t have to wait too long to find a sign saying just those words. We Brits are such a crafty bunch of collectors of world history. Or thieves. Depending upon your point of view. But anyway. Suffice it to say. Istanbul does not lack for a sense of history.
The Missing Piece Of The Jigsaw
So what was it that was gnawing at me? I’ll tell you. It’s the architecture. The palaces are grand. There are interesting buildings here and there. One of two areas have some nice stone structures and cobbled streets. There are the many mosques. There are also smatterings of wooden buildings with windows shutters that wouldn’t look out of place in the deep south or eastern parts of the United States. But truth be told, there was an awful lot of brutalist concrete and glass blocks and buildings that remind you of London in the 1950s and 1960s, as the country rebuilt in the bomb craters of World War 2. These were, for the large part , the dominant architectural style of the city. What was missing was a sense of grand, identifiably Turkish architecture with long avenues and boulevards of stylish mansions.
El Gringo Suelto recently took us on a tour of his ‘hood, Boston MA. It was a fascinating guide around the local attractions in the place he calls home. Even if he wished home were somewhere else sometimes. Say, Mexico City. I guess many people think of the US as being a young country. In many respects it is. From a British perspective, the history of the States began with the pilgrims, with only a vague acknowledgement that native peoples had been doing something or other (mostly other, nothing worth mentioning) for some undetermined period before we arrived. Gee, if it weren’t for John Wayne and his movies, we might not even know anything of them at all.
Anyway, young as the US is, it’s still been a going concern for a while, and the old things seem, from a foreign eye, to be better preserved than in Blighty. The US hasn’t suffered from the pressures of dwindling free space, nor German bombs, in the same way the UK has. He found a graveyard dating back to 1634 and a house dating back to 1661. They are old. And it had me wondering, what hidden history is in the town I live in? Could I find anything boasting a greater age than that graveyard in Ringwood, Hampshire? So let’s have a stroll round my home town.
In theory, finding something to best that Boston graveyard shouldn’t be difficult. Ringwood is an ancient town. Seriously ancient. There’s a limited number of towns which can trace themselves back to William the Conqueror’s Domesday Book. Fewer still that can find traces of their history, albeit with unusual spellings, in documents further back that that. Ringwood, or should I say Runcwuda is one such place with records going back to Saxon times. This isn’t surprising, as you can see from the photo above – a river. The River Avon, to be precise. One of many River Avon’s in England. If you’ve ever wondered why there are so many River Avons, there is a simple answer. The Roman invaders would ask the local inhabitants the name of the river. The Saxon word for river is avon – the Romans were told what is was, not what is was called. The results of those misunderstandings survive today.
Ringwood also sits next to the oddly named New Forest. It is anything but new. But its proximity obviously aided the viability of Ringwood as a town. The New Forest has been a favourite haunt of hunting monarchs for centuries. Hunting is thirsty work, I’m sure. I wonder if a dehydrated king ever stopped at the Fish Inn to quench his thirst? Perhaps. Like many of the older cottages in the town, it’s got a thatched roof. The Fish Inn, I understand, has stood there on the banks of the Avon since the 1500s. I can’t tell you any ancient stories from the Inn, but I can tell you that that is where I spent the evening to see in the new millennium. The bridge next to it is undoubtedly old too. It is known simply as the Old Bridge. But I’ve been unable to put a date on it.
The building in the photo above clearly has a story. The plaque says it all. The sign on the side of the house suggests that this historic little plot (pun intended) is currently up for grabs. I dread to think how much it costs to heat an old place like this. More than my salary I suspect. Still, the fuel bill was probably the last thing on the Duke of Monmouth’s mind. And the fuel of those days was no doubt cheap. The New Forest providing plentiful supplies of the stuff.
Let’s go into town. It’s much like any other old town in southern England. Shops closing down. Coffee shops taking their place. We have a new one arriving soon. Thank goodness. I frankly don’t know how I’ve survived these last few years with only seven coffee shops within 60 seconds walking distance of each other. I kid you not. Ok, maybe I kid you a little. They’re within 120 seconds of each other. But still. We do still have both a butcher and a fishmonger in town, despite a proliferation of supermarkets. That’s a bonus that not every town can boast.
Perhaps this shouldn’t be surprising though. Ringwood is a market town. In fact, there was a cattle market here right up until 1989. It has since been replaced by a Waitrose supermarket. There is still a street market. It was once the highlight of the week and an essential part of life. It is now appalling, selling junk that people won’t buy on eBay and meats that supermarkets wouldn’t touch.
But let us journey on, in a quest to find something old. The Fish Inn has already put the nails in the coffin of Kim’s 17th century graveyard. But surely Ringwood has something even older to offer. Let’s move onto the main church, that of St Peter and St Paul. I say main church, because Ringwood had as many churches as it has coffee shops. Gee, if a vicar cottoned on to what I’m thinking, then maybe he’d get some people inside God’s office. I digress, let’s go to church and cheer up Mr Vicar.
The church turned out to be a trove of information. This is the third church to have stood on the site, with the first dating back to the Saxon era. The second, a stone structure, fell into disrepair in the 1800s and was replaced with this beauty. So, it is quite modern, but what surprises does it have in store inside? As it turned out, it had an ancient treasure indeed.
The treasure in question was a memorial brass, dedicated to a former rector by the name of John Prophete. He died in 1416, and this was made shortly after, although I couldn’t find a precise date. Only that it is 15th century. The church does hold older relics though. There are roof bosses in a case up on one wall, but I didn’t photograph them. I saw them, but thought they were comparatively modern. Ooops. I did go looking for a 13th century tomb by the main gate, but couldn’t distinguish it from other elderly tombs.
So, the church turned out well. Same century as the Fish Inn, but probably a few years younger. Was that the oldest thing I could find in Ringwood? Actually, no. Let’s walk back to the river and check out a little cottage. We walked past it earlier, as it sits right next the the Duke of Monmouth’s former abode. The Old Cottage Restaurant. These timbers were planted in the 1300s, and is the oldest thing I have managed to photograph today. I’ve never been inside. To be honest, they do a pretty magnificent job of making it look permanently closed. Or perhaps they just prefer to keep out the riff raff. Invitation only sort of a thing.
So there we have it. A tour of the town of Ringwood, in Hampshire. The English Hampshire. Not the new fangled one near where Kim is. Does the blogger tour of the ‘hood stop here, or has anyone else got a potential career of virtual tour guide in them? More to the point, can anyone best my 14th century relic? You can? I can see see this becoming competitive. Bewarned. If you force me, I shall get on the bus and go for a ride. I have a trump card. Not the 2,000 year old ruins of a Roman villa a couple of stops away. No, my trump card comes at the end of the bus ride, here. But for today let’s leave the tour with one final photo. Something that is a fixture of every British town, village or hamlet. The war memorial. Always embossed with the names of the unfortunate victims. Currently festooned with the bright red poppies for Remembrance Day.
London hosts a treasure trove of hidden secrets. As do most cities. Let me introduce you to one of them. It’s far better hidden that most of the capitals secrets. It’s hidden in plain view. If you’ve been to London, you’ve almost certainly walked past it. You almost certainly glanced at it. It’s name might even ring a bell. But unless you’ve really been through the depths of your guidebook, or have an especially deep interest in the history of Londinium, then that first glance probably isn’t followed up by a second glance.
I’m talking about Banqueting House. It’s on Whitehall between Trafalgar Square and Westminster. But it’s on the wrong side of Whitehall. Tourists march down to the Thames with ‘eyes right’ to see the curiously helmeted soldiers outside Horseguards and to see Downing Street. Else they are looking behind at Horatio atop his lofty perch, aka Nelson’s Column. Or are looking forward, perhaps with starstruck eyes as the Elizabeth Tower, aka Big Ben, looms into view.
Poor Banqueting Hall. No one looks to the left. Not for long. Yet this imposing building isn’t simply on Whitehall. It is Whitehall. Well, the last remaining piece of the Palace of Whitehall. The Palace was, at its height, the largest in Europe, overtaking both Versailles and the Vatican. The origins of the Palace date back to the thirteenth century, but it was the infamous Henry VII who took it on (or rather took it from – Cardinal Wolseley was the victim) and developed it to a state of unrivalled grandeur. He married two wives there, and eventually died there. For more than a century and a half it was the official residence of the English monarch. Until one day, just before the end of the 1600s, a fire broke out and reduced almost the entire structure of the palace to ashes. But Banqueting Hall survived.
And still survives. There’s a massive Reuben on the ceiling commissioned by Charles I, which is still in situ. It cost three thousand pounds, an extortionate amount in those days. Was it worth it? You could have asked Charles I himself. Maybe someone did, but perhaps we’ll never know. It was the last piece of art he saw, we do know that. Or at least, can safely assume so. He was lead through Banqueting House, pushed out one of the windows onto a temporary scaffold and beheaded one cold January day. He probably had a lot of things on his mind, other than that pricey Reuben of his.
Visiting Banqueting House today is a less traumatic event. At just £5 per person it doesn’t exactly cost an arm and a leg, let alone your head. If you’re up in London and travelled by train or coach, you can get a two fer one, making it even more of a bargain. The audio guide is genuinely interesting (as opposed to the dreary monotone monologues that most places pass off as audioguides) and best of all, the hall has a half dozen bean bags littered on the floors. You can lie back and admire than Reuben and listen to the audioguide at your leisure. And let’s face it. A morning of walking through the streets of London is tiring work. This is a nice opportunity to grab forty winks.
Photos? Of course. But just a few. My preferred photo viewing experience, 500px, is here and my traditional host, Flickr, is here. Criminally, I neglected to take a photo of the outside of the building. This is truly poor form, and I apologise most sincerely. The outside of this building is so important. It was the fruit of the great Inigo Jones loins. Not as famous as Christopher Wren, but every bit as important, if not more so. You may have seen countless British stately homes and mansions and marvelled at the architecture. The designs of which were all inspired by the fabulous architects of Italy. Inigo Jones, however, was the first.
He went to Italy. He saw Italy. He came back and copied Italy. And Banquesting House was the first of those creations, inspiring countless recreations across these green
miserable, drizzlely grey and pleasant lands. He pioneered this large scale theft of continental design and engineering. He was rewarded handsomely for it, I’m sure. These days, he’d probably get a Cease and Desist writ.
Regardless of whereabouts in Ireland you’re considering visiting, you will be met with a perfect blend of city life and outstanding natural beauty. Whether you’ve got a hankering for a city break or you’d prefer to have somewhere that is a gateway to the natural world, you won’t be disappointed. Plus, if you hire a car, you will be able to see a bit of everything, with many cities within easy driving distance of eachother. Wherever you decide to explore though, consider these 5 cities when it comes to planning your itinerary.
While it’s probably most famous for its manufacture of Waterford crystal, there is much more to this city and its surroundings than you can imagine. Book yourself into the Waterford Travelodge for a day or two, and you will be able to delve into the Viking history of the city as well as venture beyond the city limits into the rural countryside beyond.
Packed with culture, tradition and atmosphere, the City of the Tribes is an absolute must if you’re heading for the west coast. Whether you have plans to explore the Aran Islands and Connemara National Park, or you want to absorb as much of the vibrant city life as possible, you’re in the right place.
Whether it’s the plentiful festivals you would prefer to plan your visit around, or you’d prefer to explore beyond the city and head for Mizen Head, the most southerly tip of Ireland, there’s plenty to see and do here.
Located at the northern tip of the Republic of Ireland, Donegal borders Northern Ireland and is an ideal place to stay if you’d like to incorporate both countries into your visit.
Of course, a list of potential visiting spots wouldn’t be complete without mentioning the country’s vibrant capital – Dublin. This awesome cosmopolitan city is packed with charisma, character and a stupendous atmosphere. From the nightlife in Temple Bar to the culture of the castle and beyond, you could easily while away a day or several in this upbeat, captivating city.
Take your pick from these cities or look further afield to ensure that your visit to Ireland will be perfectly tailormade to suit your dreams.
It’s trendy to repeat the name New York. It’s just how it’s said. I can’t think of any other city that needs its name to be said twice. But then, each city has its own little catchphrase. It’s London calling, not Paris, after all. New York is perhaps deserving of its moniker. It truly is twice the city compared to most other metropolis’. I had a week there in 2003 and blew more money in those seven days than I had in two months in Mexico. But it was worth every penny. Or cent.
I saw a show on Broadway – Thoroughly Modern Millie. Which remains the best musical I have seen. I walked from Harlem to Manhattan. Twice. The first time deliberately. The second, due to lack of choice. I watched the most artful robbery ever, along with a little crowd of onlookers that the robber had gathered around. Yes, the robber gathered his victims around him. He did a trick with a dollar bill. Then a five dollar bill. They were good. He asked if anyone had a twenty. They gave him a bill, and he performed another trick, and returned the note. He asked for a hundred, and someone gave him one. And he ran.
I walked around the site of the World Trade Centre. I took the Staten Island ferry to get a glimpse of the Statue of Liberty. I did a walking tour with an Anglophile university lecturer – for a third time I strolled half the length of Manhattan. I had a fantastic time. Alas, I brought back so few photos. Memory cards were pricey in those days, with limited space and it was a long holiday. But I’ve found those old snaps on disk, snazzied them up a little and uploaded to Flickr. Snazzied or not, they remain mediocre. At best. Click here to have a look.
It is no surprise that when someone mentions Dubai, regardless the context, everything related to luxury instantly comes to mind. The tiny little country occupying no more than roughly 4000 square kilometers of land space in the United Arab Emirates sure makes up for its size in material grandeur. Anywhere you look you see skyscrapers touching the clouds, Ferraris, Bugattis and Lamborginis fighting for parking spots, and one private airplane after another crossing the skies.
The luxury is endless, and to make sure visitors get the same experience as the residents, the hotels are equipped with everything you need and more to feel as if you have just ascended into heaven. Among these, there is the Burj Al Arab, also known as the most luxurious hotel the world has ever seen. They say it is more than just a treat to the eye – it is a symbol of modern Dubai. And, who is to say otherwise? For this is potentially as close to paradise in a box as you can possibly get.
The magnificent architecture has resulted in the Burj Al Arab Hotel being one of the most photographed hotels in the world. However, while the stunning silhouette built to resemble a billowing sail is hard to take your eyes off of, it is the service within, along with the fascinating interior designs, that makes the Burj so extraordinary. Each and every room is a luxury suite spanning two floors. Everything you can see is state-of-the-art classified and the views are indescribable.
Extra guest care
If you feel like going all in on your hotel experience, choose the upscale package and enjoy extra guest care services including anything from in-suite check-in and a private reception to your own personal 24/7 butler and a chauffeur-driven Rolls Royce. If you do want to drive by yourself, you can pick and choose whichever dream car you wish from their fleet of luxury cars available for rent. Among its unique over-the-top amenities you also find an attached heliport and a hovering tennis court where none less than Roger Federer and Andre Agassi have hit a few balls together.
Once you are done spending the day like any other royalty around, you will probably be in need of some food and drinks. Luckily, there is not a shortage of that either. You will find a wide range of futuristic dining and nightlife options to choose from, one more breathtaking than the other when it comes to both flavors and atmospheres. And, while you are at it, do not forget to swipe your American Express platinum card for some extra points.