Lanzarote the Bus Tour - Day 2 - 4/11/2008

We took the Grand Tour of Lanzarote to see what there was to see and see if there was anything worth seeing more.

Our first stop was a cafe in Yaiza so the arrivals from Playa Blanca could join us. From there, our first real stop was near El Golfo. On the way in, we saw a photo shoot for something with a woman wearing something that looked both expensive and insufficiently warm given the lack of warmth that day.

Once the bus let us off, we walked down to see the Green Lagoon that was a bit more yellow when we saw it. Some of our group looked among the rock rubble for olivine. Others bought theirs from the woman running the "gift shop" table in the car park. We explored the rocks including a semi-cave as well as the beach. Brian discovered that the water was just as cold on the windward side of the island.

All of Lanzarote is volcanic in origin so the rocks are cooled lava, stubbly and brittle like limestone. Climbing felt easy. From the walk back to the bus, we noticed that erosion seemed as much a problem as limestone -- a big chunk of the path had fallen about 5m to the rubble below.

We spent a lot of time in the Parque Nacionale de Timanfaya, first visiting the camel safari (but not riding camels) and the natural oven of the park's restaurant before doing the famed Crater Route in the park. Natural heat makes the ground warm and if you dig down just a little, you can find quite a lot of heat. There were three levels to visit. First, one of the park employees took a shovel of rubble from the ground and gave each of us a rock to hold. We didn't hold the rocks for long as they quickly became too hot to hold. At the second level, we got to look into a natural pocket as they tossed some straw into it. I wondered what the autoignition temperature of straw was as it burst into flames. At the top level, we were told to stand back while one of the employees poured some water into a pipe in the ground and made a mini geyser.

Only buses are allowed along the Crater Route and no one is permitted off the buses. The topography is a barren mix of reds, browns, black and white. Green and living things were sparse. Our bus tour took us along most of the big craters, including the Timanfaya itself, although I must confess I don't remember which one was which. Our tour let us look down on the camel park as we looped around the much taller craters that could easily be on another planet.

The end of the crater route meant lunch was soon to follow. We stopped at a large buffet-style restaurant. Veggie options were limited and my lunch was very potatoey. I discovered a fondness for papas arrugadas aka Canarian wrinkly potatoes, so called because they are cooked in seawater and are indeed wrinkly. They weren't salty enough for Brian. I also sampled the famous salsa mojo verde and creamy garlic death sauce. The tour guide warned us against the garlic sauce, but Brian ate it, too. That's always the way to do it, sharing the garlic breath.

After lunch, we stopped at a local bodega to sample local wine. Lanzarote whites are better known and appreciated than their reds. We got to sample a dry white and a moscatel. The latter is a dessert wine, similar in sweetness to sherry. I liked it a lot. We brought two bottles back with us to share.

Back on the bus, we drove through the old capital of Teguise and the guide spoke more about architecture. Most of the buildings have flat rooftops to collect the rain. The rainy season is in the winter and that water must last them the year. They have desalination plants for seawater now but that water is not good for drinking.

We stopped at another cafe overlooking the shoreline northeast of Arrecife, the current capital. I was a bit annoyed by this cafe stop. It was a nice view but not all that interesting otherwise.

Back on the bus again, the next stop was the Guinate Tropical Park that I think was set up by an English guy and is apparently a bird sanctuary. The sun was well hidden behind the clouds, the wind had kicked up and most of the birds were smart enough to be somewhere else. Apparently sometimes you can see penguins in the park but we just saw some seagulls playing in the wind. We had nice views to Islas Graciosa, Montaña Clara and Alegranza just north of Lanzarote.

The stop in the park was brief as we were already approaching 4pm. Rounding the north end of the island, we headed to our last stop of the tour, the famous Jameos del Agua. Born of ideas from César Manrique, a famous modern artist I had never heard of, a resort hotel was built into a cave in the 1960s. Lots of rich and famous people visited it. Eventually it was converted into a tourist attraction. The bar/restaurant was still running but the hotel rooms were not. In the tidal pond in the cave, we saw albino crabs crawling along the rocks. Exiting the cave, we found a pool that looked like part of a villain's lair in a James Bond film. No wonder Sean Connery is said to have visited the resort.

At 6pm, the Jameos del Agua was closing and the sun was setting. We piled onto the bus for the journey back to the hotel. It felt like a good taste of the island but unfortunately, we were not inspired about what else we needed to visit while there. The camel safari felt like a must but otherwise, we were left wondering.

Rome - 5/6/2008 - 8/6/2008

So the Romans make the Milanese look organised and efficient, which should tell you our Roman holiday had its share of adventures. I knew better than to prepurchase train tickets to Rome -- I probably would have had to go to Rome to collect them. Instead, we got tickets from one of the friendly machines in the station. Then had to ask to find out which train was the Rome train because intermediate stations weren't mentioned on the boards and final train destinations weren't mentioned on the tickets.

With Milan behind us, we boarded the train to find our designated seats occupied. We took someone else's who took someone else's. And so on. The Swiss scheme didn't really work with the Italian mindset, I guess? We arrived to Rome Termini and decided to make a run for Ostiense to see if we could get the early train to Bassano. In theory, it could work. In practice, if you don't know Rome, it can't. We got to the subway but couldn't find a map of it anywhere. Eventually, we found the information desk who couldn't give us a map either and eventually again, Brian was able to ask which way to Ostiense. The lady said linea B, which was partially helpful. Which way on linea b? Not the way we chose initially. Which station along linea B? Certainly not one labelled Ostiense. We exited at Pyramide and eventually (again) followed a nice woman along the unlabelled corridor to the next corridor that led to Ostiense. We arrived about five minutes late for our train.

Thankfully, we didn't have to wait a full hour to the next train. SMS with Arishaya got us on a different train that was close enough for her to collect us. Soon after, we got to catch up with the rest of the Noorani Smiths including two legged puppies, four legged puppies and their step-rat. I even got Saesha calling Bets rat, which may not please her grandmother.

Friday morning was a leisurely morning with Shiana off to school and everyone else not in such a rush to go anywhere. We had a nice lunch beside the lake and then caught the train in to Rome. Our plan was to wander around the old places and find out about tours, eventually meeting up with everyone else at the restaurant for dinner.

We saw old places and found out about some bus tours, but eventually bumped into an evening tour of Rome that set us up for Vatican tourism the next day. We were worried about timing of the walking tour and dinner, but turns out we had plenty of time so instead nipped up to the Trevi fountain and Spanish steps before heading back to the river.

The Romans locked themselves out and puppies in Lenore's flat, so plans for dinner at the restaurant were thwarted by the need to get back into said flat by whatever means necessary. A spare set of keys were with a kind neighbour so that problem was solved. Eventually. Dinner became takeaway. Brian, Shiana and I kept Saesha busy while Ron stressed about the car being ticketed or hit or whatever and Arishaya collected dinner from the restaurant.

Vatican was impressive, not as much from the outside (although it is a bit of a fortress) as from the inside. The Sistine Chapel is just another boring building outside but obvious wow inside. Our tour guide was an expat American who seemed very educated and excited about the art history as we wandered through the museum collections leading up to the main event. He left us just outside St Peter's Basilica. Though he recommended the view from the castle at the other end of the Vatican complex, Brian wanted to make the climb of St Peter's again and show me that view.

Up up up and then more up. Some people spent extra for the lift, but really it wasn't worth it. The majority of steps were unavoidable. The views from the top were amazing and worth the trek. The gift shop just before the divergence with the elevator crowd were a little surreal. I bought a postcard and a stamp from a nun worker and sent the card by Vatican post. Anything mailed from the Vatican goes by way of Switzerland which means if you want something you mail to get somewhere else, you send it from the Vatican. Our tour guide had told a long, sad story of a lost camera lens that hasn't been found for nearly 2 years now.

Vatican consumed pretty much all of Saturday. We were first back to the flat and took the puppies for a nice walk in the neighbourhood. As usual, Angelo was an angel on the lead and Tara was, well, Tara. With Arishaya's mother (finally) back in Rome, the rat was back with her person.

On Sunday, we had a late flight home so hoped to see the Coliseum and possibly Palentine Hill. We were successful, but barely. Our tour guide for the Coliseum was a chain smoking Italian who seemed to revel in talk of blood, guts and gore. They didn't let us play with any lions or tigers, sadly. The woman who led us around Palentine Hill was a PhD student in theology so her stories covered a bit more broad topics. We had just enough time for a brisk walk back to the flat to collect luggage and travel to the train station with half of the Noorani Smiths. Ron had to stay behind to work at the restaurant so the puppies stayed with him.

Surprisingly, we didn't have many difficulties getting to the airport. Getting me fed at the airport was difficult, though not surprisingly in the land of pasta and customer service that makes Britain's look helpful. We were late getting home and appropriately tired from all of the adventures, a perfect mood for Brian to start a new job the next morning.

Brian was put to work.

Angelo, Tara and Bets wait patiently for the journey to Rome.

The key that unlocks the gate.

A peek of St. Peter's Basilica from the Vatican Museum

The Vatican Museum as seen from St Peter's Basilica

Inside St. Peter's Basilica, we twisted and wound and inched our way up to the top, enjoying magnificent views inside the basilica and across the city of Rome (and the Vatican empire as well).

This video is better for the sound than the grainy imagery. I love the haunting feeling that comes with hearing choirs in old echoey churches.

The Pope has his own train station.

The Sistine Chapel is not nearly so distinctive on the outside as on the inside.

Our tour guide for the Coliseum was a chain smoking Italian who loved talking about blood, guts and gore.

I wish we had more time to explore the Roman Forum. Roman old stuff makes Scottish old stuff look young.

Maid of the Forth and the Lone Supposed Puffin Escapee – 9/9/2007

A combination of wind and sore me led us to look for a more leisurely Sunday plan. All credit goes to Brian for the actual idea. We took one of those Forth cruises to Inchcolm to get lost in the abbey and annoy the wildlife. Some parts of the abbey date back to the 13th Century and they have the twisty, windy, steep stairs to prove it. Other structures around it were constructed during the first and second World Wars to house various weapons to defend against German naval vessels, particularly submarines, who came looking for a fight. They have the temporary unattractiveness typical of government buildings.

Perhaps a full day’s worth of tourists landing on the island, or the high winds, or both, the wildlife was feeling bashful. We saw seagulls galore, plenty of guano, but not a lot of variety in birds otherwise. I think I saw a lone puffin frantically flying away from the boat after Brian disappeared to the bar for some crisps, but he doesn’t believe me.

In the evening, Brian and I tried our luck at pub quiz, a second for me but a first for him. We placed 2nd of 5 teams, with a prize of a box of chocolates, and an addict was born…

Inchcolm Abbey dates back to the 13th Century, perhaps earlier.

Among the grown up and loud seagulls, we found what seemed to be a baby seagull. Its protective parent squauked loudly overhead until we removed ourselves to a safe distance.

Brian charges the Inchcolm defenses.

The Cliffs of Moher had very descriptive signs.

Reunions and tourism around Cork – 7/4/2007 – 8/4/2007

My lesbian lover and her husband took their first European holiday at Easter to see me (and some of Ireland). Their plan was to arrive sometime Saturday afternoon and depart sometime Sunday afternoon. Our plans for those days involved lots of laziness and tourism. I drove. Kate played overbearing mother figure /navigator. We headed for Cork at lunchtime, shopped a little, lunched a lot and eventually retrieved Sarynna and Chase from the bus right around 5pm. Thankfully, they weren’t hungry. Eventually we went for Thai food in Midleton, in partial celebration of our past Salathai ritual. Sary and Chase wanted to hear trad music, but unfortunately Saturday night isn’t the time or the place for it. Instead, they had to cope with a typical night out in a typical Irish pub. They seemed happy enough for it.

The laziness of Saturday was replaced with touristiness for Sunday. We stuffed ourselves into my hired Ford Fiesta and headed for Blarney Castle. While queuing there, I saw the bus tour similar to the one my parents will be taking in August. We queued. We kissed. We queued more. I did tip the guy who was helping people not slip and bump their heads against the non-plummeting tourist grate below. Not being dropped seemed useful. Blarney Castle seems like a great place to play tag. Or hide and seek.

We stuffed ourselves back into the car and headed for tourist destination #2, Midleton Distillery, one of the homes of Jameson Whiskey. We had a few minutes before the tour so we took advantage of the time to have a hint of lunch. The soup was determined to be Christine-friendly and fast, so five bowls of soup it was. Then we queued and we toured. We learned the difference between Irish, Scottish and American whiskeys, whiskies and whiskeys, beyond just the spelling. At the end of the tour, Chase was selected as one of the official tasters. Along with two others, he got to taste the differences between whiskey, whisky and whiskey. The brands were Jameson, Johnnie Walker and Jack Daniels. She then asked each of them to choose a favourite. Each of them chose a different one with Chase choosing loyalty above flavour with his Jack Daniels. Each of the three was presented with a diploma establishing his credibility as an Irish whiskey taster.

While Chase was tasting firewater, I suffered another failed whiskey experiment. Irish whiskey was smooth as fire and not to my liking at all. It failed the two sip test miserably. I did like Kate’s whiskey and cranberry, but that seemed a bit blasphemous. Instead, I poured my whiskey into Dave’s glass.

Unfortunately, the end of our Jameson tourist experience meant the end of our reunion. Sarynna and Chase needed to get the bus back to Dublin. We dropped them off and replaced my friends with Kate’s friends for the rest of the evening. After pub, food, alcohol and a late dinner, we managed to convince one of them to join us for hillwalking the next day. The rest just looked at us like we were slightly mental.

Lesbian lovers reunited at the Blarney Stone.