Hong Kong: Day 3 - New Territories

We had such an interesting time today. We joined a Splendid Tours & Travels  tour into the New Territories.

The whole situation of Hong Kong and the New Territories was really interesting. We all know that Hong Kong was "handed back" to the Chinese in 1997, but the stories behind it are worth knowing, and these are the sort of insight you get when you undertake organised tours. Apparently Hong Kong was ceded to Britain after the first Opium War. So, do you get that? Britain did not "lease" Hong Kong from China; Hong Kong was ceded to Britain as part of the spoils of war.  In other words,  Britain owned Hong Kong, and virtually build the place from the ground up. Hong Kong, though, is a little island just off the coast of China, and so Britain needed some of that very nearby land, land on which to grow crops, land from which to source materials and workers, and so - following yet more Opium Wars - China agreed to lease Kowloon and the New Territories to Britain for 100 years.

Time travel to the latter part of the 20th century. The lease on the New Territories is getting towards its expiry, and China has no desire to renew it; China wants its land back. How, then, is Hong Kong going to manage without the New Territories, without all those workers who commute each day to work in the commercial/business insanity that is Hong Kong? All too difficult. There is only one answer: accept the inevitable and give Hong Kong back to its original owners. And so there you have it.Those of us - me included - who thought that the whole shabang had been leased and was being handed back when the lease expired were wrong; it was simply a tactical impossibility to keep hold of that tiny little part of the Empire.

So, today, as I said, we set off on a tour which would take us into the New Territories for a glimpse of life outside the high-rise clutter of Hong Kong and Kowloon. 

The tour started with a visit to - yes, you guessed it - a temple. In Europe, everywhere you go it's cathedrals, cathedrals, cathedrals. Asia's answer to that, of course, is temples, temples, temples. You will overdose on red, gold, incense, and crave a bit of starkness, the refreshment of neutrals.  So, here we are, first stop, and that red, gold, incense is overwhelming. Gongs are gonged, chants are chanted, monks are everywhere, the sweet smells of fruit piled high as offerings is almost overwhelming.

Where too much bling is never enough.

After the temple, we headed into the New Territories and had the great pleasure to visit a traditional walled village, Kam Tin. It's an old, old village, and seems to be mainly peopled by old, old ladies. We were told that there is no pension system here, and so these elderly widows exist on the kindness of others. They live here in this village - and no doubt myriad other similar villages dotted around the country - adhering to some of their ancient customs, still wearing some items of their traditional dress, and frequently providing free childcare for the offspring of their busy 21st century professional sons and daughters. 

We entered the village through a large gateway and proceeded down a long central alleyway. Small lanes turn off to the left and the right, and as you walk forward, taking care not to trip over the cobbles and broken paving, you catch the odd glimpse of an ancient, wrinkled face peering at you from a doorway. At the end of this central alleyway is a small temple containing a very ornate shrine, or altar. There are rich fabrics draping the altar, and the smell of incense and fruit again emanates. To our delight, as we leave the temple a few of the local ladies assemble, happy to pose and smile for photographs - in return, of course, for a few dollars. It is money well spent, as I'm sure you will agree.

We felt so privileged to have visited this village and met these delightful elderly ladies, we then drive to a lovely wooded area where we can enjoy views "over the border" to the People's Republic of China. It was so strange, somehow, to stand there and look down at the Shenzen River and some houses on stilts. It seemed instead of being there looking across to China we were visitors to the set of a movie about the Vietnam War, so much did it seem to resemble a million scenes that have flashed across our eyeballs in Platoon, Apocalypse Now, The Deer Hunter. It was hazy, it looked other-worldly, there were no border guards with red stars on their caps aiming automatic weapons to us but somehow the moment still had a fantastic edgy feel to it. Going in to China on a shopping spree would be so ordinary, but this felt like western voyeurism, almost a John le Carre moment.

With apologies for the quality of the photo - new camera due, methinks - but can't you almost hear the woop-woop of the Hueys approaching?

After this little glimpse into the land of the little red book, we were ushed back to the coach for a visit to a small township and the Wishing Tree. Here, people all jot down their wishes on cards provided and then tie to them to the tree, sending their wishes to the gods. Young girls, young men, the sick, the lonely, everywhere you look there are people standing around jotting down the desires of their hearts onto those little cards ready to attach to the tree.

 

Our tour guide hands out cards for us to complete, and some on the tour do just that.  I simply pocket mine as a souvenir. I am here on holiday, in this exciting, colourful and so "other" place, with my lovely man, I have my health, my happiness, family who love me, and two beautiful cats. What more could I wish for?

Other than the tree, I am fascinated by the houses here. They bear no relationship to what I had expected homes to look like, and to me are almost Spanish looking. Lots of tiles, lots of ceramic, lots of stainless steel and chrome, but - perhaps because it is the time of the Mid-Autumn Lantern Festival - always with those wonderful Chinese lanterns on display.

Certainly not what we were expecting.

There were a couple of aspects of the tour which really made a lasting impression on me. One is the crazy, crazy traffic. Oh, it's insane, I assure you. Our tour guide, Shirley, also pointed out that, while in Hong Kong and the New Territories you drive on the left, in the British style, when you cross the border into the People's Republic you have to change over to the right hand side of the road. Having said that, she did say that the side of the road you drive on in China is almost a personal choice - right, left, straight down the middle - and driving there, even being a passenger, is not for the feint hearted. The other lasting memory, and it's a lovely one, is the stunning scenery we had the privilege of driving through. The greens are so rich, so deep, of such variety, and everywhere there are these lush, green hills. Particularly for people from the flat, brown land of Australia, such richness of landscape is especially beautiful.

Our coach then returns us to Tsim Sha Tsui, and I think we all agree that Shirley was a great tour guide and it was money well spent. As we walk around the corner from the coach stand, though, we see a sight that really was one of the best of the day. What do you think?

There are always little gems to be found when travelling, aren't there, and this certainly was one. I still laugh every time I see this photograph, and I know that every westerner who walks down that street would do the same. 

Wandering, shopping, eating great food in a little eatery, all those finished off the day for us. It really was another great day in Hong Kong. 

Tomorrow we're off to Ocean Park, so I hope you'll join us there. 

Hong Kong: Day 2 - Touring Hong Kong Island (and shopping, of course)

Had a great day today. We signed on for a tour which would take us across to Hong Kong Island, up the Peak, and then to Stanley Markets, a cruise of Aberdeen Harbour, and finish off with – wow, what a surprise – a visit to a jewellery factory.

Okay, we could have done all this independently, but sometimes it’s great to do an organised tour because you pick up so many interesting little titbits. For instance, on the drive up to the Peak our tour guide pointed out to us a rather impressive mansion which was the home of a Mr Stanley Ho, also known as Ho Hung Sun or The King of Gambling. For over 40 years Mr Ho held the monopoly for the gambling industry on Macau – it is is a HUGE industry. Obviously, the guy is pretty damned rich. As well as gambling he’s into entertainment, shipping, real estate, banking etc, etc, etc , and has business interests in Europe, Africa and of course various other spots in Asia. Interesting? Sure. But what had the whole coachload of tourists laughing and shaking their heads was that our tour guide pointed out that, while monogamy is compulsory for Europeans living in Hong Kong, that was not the case for local people, and so Mr Ho was, quite legally, the proud husband of not one, not two, but three wives. So, here we have this enormously wealthy man, with an enormous house, and three ladies to share it with him. Could lead to problems, you think? Not if they each have their own front door. Yes, that’s right: each wife had her own front door. What a lovely way to save face, but how wonderfully quirky from a non-Chinese viewpoint.

We then got told the old Chinese joke: ‘ho’ means good; ‘ho ho’ means good, good, or very good; ‘ho ho ho’ means merry Christmas. Yes, it’s funny in a group situation, but don’t expect gales of laughter when you repeat the joke to the folks back home.

Anyway, after that long, long, very winding road the coach at last reached The Peak. The haze was terrible, I have to tell you, and so most photographs we took were more like “Guess what this is?” exercises, and ended up in that little black bin on the upper right hand corner of the computer screen. We were able to have a wander around, however, so we picked up a few souvenirs, admired the skill of constructing such amazing homes on such steep slopes, and enjoyed a nice lunch. 

Now, that's what you call a haze.

 We were then off to the Stanley Markets, and I have to tell you I loved them. They are not particularly large, but they are fantastic, with friendly stall holders and a fabulous range of goods. I bought quite a few scarves – I buy scarves wherever I go – some shoes (of course), some handbags (of course), a few T-shirts and some rather exotic (and not at all practical) notebooks. I loved chatting with the shopkeepers there, but found the straightforward approach of some of them quite surprising. At one little shop where I was admiring a blouse the stallholder came up to me, looked me up and down, and then said “You too fat for that one. I find another one for you”. No chance of taking offence as within about two seconds I had the perfect top shoved into my hands. She was right: it was a perfect fit, and I have had lots of happy wear out of it. In another stall, one where I bought a couple of handbags, the delightful young girl who was plying me with bag after bag after bag suddenly asked, “How old are you?” That really was a bit of a shock. I told her I was simply old. She then said, “How many kids you got?” I told her that we didn’t have any children. It was then her turn to be shocked. Her eyes got huge, her shoulders came up really high as she dipped her head in disbelief, and she said, “No kids? Why you have no kids?” I have worked with people for years who would never have asked such a blunt question.  But I can honestly say that there was nothing offensive in such questioning; it was actually almost refreshing.

Entrance to the famous floating restaurant - huge!

Okay, so happily laden with lots of goodies, we then all piled back into the coach and were driven to a spot where we boarded a small boat for a cruise around Aberdeen Harbour. 

Not the vessel we were on, sadly.

Now, as you can see from the photographs, while there are lots of luxury vessels, most boats we saw there were workboats, floating homes, covered in all sorts of amazing signs, objects, flags. 

 

Boats which looked as though they had been through a typhoon and were absolute wrecks sported satellite televisions. Boats which looked as though the decks were rotten with woodworm were fitted with reverse cycle air-conditioning units. And everywhere, lovely, smiling young men on those boats, all waving to the gawking tourists who were treating their homes as museum exhibits.

Back on land, we were shepherded back into the coach and then taken to that place that no tourist to Hong Kong is allowed to miss – a jewellery factory. Now, most of the people on the coach were American tourists, and most of those ladies sported diamond rings such as are normally only seen on The Bold and the Beautiful or Dynasty. Some of them, in that jewellery showroom, were like the proverbial kiddie in a lolly shop.

We found the tour of the factory really interesting, seeing the jewellery makers working with tiny, precise tools to fashion exquisite earrings, necklaces, bracelets. Did I find something? Well, by the time we left there I was the extremely happy owner of a stunning turquoise ring with matching earrings. Oh, they are totally gorgeous, I assure you.

What a fantastic day we had. This tour was so worthwhile. It was great being part of a happy bunch of people, and getting to chat to folks from places that we just know from song titles.  

And to top off the day? A superb, and memorable, meal at the Waterfront Bar and Terrace, which is a restaurant attached to the hotel but separate to the main building. Honestly, it was one of those meals where you put a forkful in your mouth, close your eyes and just drift off into tastebud heaven. Superb! Catch you later.

Hong Kong: Day 1

So, here we were, just settled on a property which we had spent over two years turning from the ugliest ducking in the farmyard to the most beautiful swan on the lake, and it had paid off for us very well. We needed a holiday, but we needed something which would be quick and easy to book, which would not involve months of planning or pouring over websites, somewhere offering a bit of excitement and a good deal of comfort. Well, where else but that place 22.3 north, Hong Kong.

I picked up a few travel brochures, booked our airfares, and selected a hotel, the Harbour Plaza Kowloon (since renamed the Harbour Grand Kowloon . The date was set, 7^th of October, and we were revved up for a great holiday.

The flight up to Hong Kong with Qantas was fantastic. The food was great, the service from the cabin crew first class even if we were in economy, and before we knew it, having watched a couple of movies and had a few vinos, we were landing in Hong Kong, alas no longer at the famous airport that gave so many tourists some anxious moments but at the superb, super-efficient new airport on Lantau Island.

By the time we had cleared immigration, our luggage was through on the fascinating-to-watch luggage carousel, and so we were soon through customs and out into the arrivals lounge where we quickly spotted our pre-arranged transport to the Harbour Plaza. Driving in from the airport the excitement mounts as you begin to see high-rise after high-rise after high-rise. Actually, Hong Kong looks like a place made up of differently coloured domino pieces all standing on end, all bumping against each other, each one vying for attention. The skyline itself is just such a feature.

Our hotel, situated in the Hunghom area of Kowloon, far exceeded any advertising brochures. The staff at reception were delightful, coming across as genuinely welcoming, and check-in was completed in no time at all and with big smiles. Before we knew it we were opening the door into our room and rushing over to the window to take it the fantastic harbour views. Everything was lovely – the décor, the bathroom, the location.  Great choice of hotel, Beejay! Our suitcases were soon delivered, and I unpacked them quickly, sorted out the toiletries for the bathroom, put our reading material etc etc out where we wanted them, had a quick shower, and we were ready to head downstairs and out.

Outside our hotel. Who doesn't love dolphins, even gold ones?

First port of call was a quick stroll around the Hunghom area just to familiarise ourselves with our surroundings. As I said, the hotel is in a perfect location, overlooking the harbour, and it is just a very short walk from there to the Hunghom ferry terminal. While we would have loved to just jump on a ferry and head over to Hong Kong Island or along to Tsim Sha Tsui, a supermarket was needed so that we could get some goodies to fill our fridge. We had asked that the contents of the mini-bar in our room be taken away and we wanted to make good use of the small fridge and ensure that the gin and rum had their correct drinking buddies, tonic and coke.

Within a few short blocks of the hotel we found a fantastic shopping centre which contained everything you could possibly want – clothing shops, shoe shops, eateries, newsagents, and of course a supermarket. We absolutely love supermarket shopping in the places we visit, taking ages to check out every shelf to see what products we have in common, what strange goodies we can ponder over, and what amazing new gadgets we can enthuse over. In somewhere like Hong Kong you can add to that list what incredible smells your nostrils can be assailed by in the natural health section, or indeed in the food section. It was fantastic! 

Well supplied with mixers, munchies, chocolates, tea, coffee, milk and sugar, we headed back to our room, organised our supplies, and then once more made our way out onto the street. This time we did indeed head down to the ferry terminal. It was getting dark, which was just lovely. We boarded one of those famous Hong Kong Star Ferries to Tsim Sha Tsui, the busy, busy bit of Kowloon which everybody who has ever been there is so familiar with – think Nathan Road, Indian tailors, shops galore, the Peninsula Hotel, the Hong Kong cruise terminal. Ah, it was so alive, so buzzing with vitality, so colourful and wonderful.

We then took the opportunity to head out for a special evening cruise on one of the non-ferry ferries. There are a couple of these beautifully maintained ferries which take people on harbour cruises as opposed to being just a method of transport between Hong Kong and the mainland or the myrial islands scattered around. 

The name of the vessel we cruised on is Shining Star, and she is indeed beautiful. It's a while ago now, but  the memory of the delightful cruise is still there, and it is indeed magical cruising those waters and seeing a giant fairyland on either side of you as the lights of Hong Kong and the lights of Kowloon via for your attention.

What better place to sip a drink, unless it's on the outside deck, of course.

After that cruise we wandered around for a while, taking another ferry across the water to Hong Kong Island, and then back again to Hunghum and the Harbour Grand for a great meal in the restaurant overlooking the harbour surrounded by those glittering lights.

Oh, imagine our delight on walking back into the hotel lobby to discover it had been set up for a wedding. Wow, things here are certainly not done in half measures.  Check out these photographs. Stunning, I'm sure you will agree.

It had been quite a big day, and that big, incredibly comfortable bed was just heaven to sink into, and a great night’s sleep was waiting.

22.3 Degrees North - Where on Earth?

Okay, so I have just got my computer back from being repaired and it's just lovely, good as new again, but I have got soooo much to catch up on.  In the interim, though, let me whet your appetite with a few photographs of one of our favourite places - an exciting, exotic, chaotic and thrilling place located 22.3 degrees north.

Now, where is that, did you say?

(Here's a clue - think of a many splendid thing)

Liberia - From the Files of Traveler8

am delighted to have guest blogger, Traveler8, here to tell us about her recent visit to Liberia, a country which most of us will never get to experience firsthand.  Enjoy Traveler8's journey.

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Liberia – From the Files of Traveler8

I know I am back in Liberia because everyone is calling me Mommy, and while I do have to “process” it every time someone says it, it is nice to hear it. Mommy is an honorific for an older woman, probably closest to "Ma'am" in the southern US. When I first heard it on my last visit I would jump. This country certainly has some of the most cordial people in the world, and it was a pleasure being welcomed back by the hotel and project staff.

Interesting thing on the plane – I was seated next to a Chinese gentleman who started “talking” to me via a recording/translating device. He would write in Chinese characters, and they would be translated to English, and in turn I could spell out words in English and have them translated to Chinese. I did manage to inform him of the cities that I had been to in China, also determined that he was from Wuhan (which I think is near Nanjing). He had a double card, chairman of an import-export trading company, also chairman of a company concerned with international development, although I don’t know if the latter simply means that the China-based company is doing business abroad. I tried to tell him that my company was doing agriculture, cassava, rice (that was recognized) and that I did finance, but I have no idea how much of that translated.

On the way in from the airport we passed one mosque, but mostly there are dozens of little evangelical and pentecostal churches, and religious names on lots of things like filling stations and business centres, which is the term for a business location. A business centre might sell seed grain, for instance – the term is not reserved for a place where you might find a copy machine and an internet connection, for instance. I did also see a Mommy Business Centre, which I got a kick from. 

Just so you know where it is.

Lots to describe about Liberia. This is a really poor country and, except for a few government buildings that apparently have recently been built, everything is totally run down, or was not built much to begin with. The houses in the outlying regions are built of cement blocks, or mud blocks, or have walls of woven raffia, and rarely are these over one story. Roads have lots of potholes, and the side roads are mostly dirt, a red clay that occasionally appears very pink, suggesting a high iron content.

Overall things are fairly flat, lots of palm trees, also fruit trees like mango, and I have been through at least one large rubber plantation (trees are tapped and have a small ceramic cup to collect the dripping latex) owned by Firestone.

(Accreditation: Microsoft Clipart)

In line with the reason for my visit, yesterday I was taken on a visit to meet a rice miller. The owner turned out to be a light skinned black man who looked like he might have some east Asian and/or Lebanese blood, and he was only introduced to me by his first name. As we were getting into the car I was speculating on his background, and one of the Liberians said, "Oh, he's a Cooper." Seems that the family is quite big, and they still own a lot of interests in the country. A colleague of mine (about my age) said that he went to Cornell with Dermot Cooper, whose mother, Sophie, apparently owned the ice cream factory/brand etc in Liberia at the time, and was quite well known. Anyway, I am going to refer my colleague to the book The House on Sugar Beach, by Helene Cooper. The House on Sugar Beach is one I highly recommend. 

Incidentally, I recognized "Sirleaf" as the name of one of Cooper's classmates, so assumed that the President is "Congo", but it turns out that she was a foster child as well, as Eunice is described in the book. I think the book is quite readable and useful for background on Liberia - and as I found out, the Coopers are around and thriving.

President Ellen Sirleaf Johnson

There is a big soccer match on tonight, the European Club championship, between Bayern Munich and Chelsea FC. The score was level at 0-0 until less than 10 minutes to go when Bayern scored. And then, and with less than two minutes left in the game, Chelsea tied it up. We were at a restaurant for much of the game, but were the only patrons who had come for dinner as everyone else was there simply to watch the game on the big screen TVs. Outside the restaurant as we were leaving we saw promos, enticements for watching the match, including “free bong fries”. At last we finally realized that the waiter had been saying that certain dishes came with bong fries, which are cassava fries. A great name, eh?

When I get back to my room I discover that the game has gone into overtime and now they are lining up for a penalty shootout.  The score is– 3-3, and it’s now sudden death.  Whoosh, a German shot hit the post. It didn’t go in. Chelsea’s turn, and they make it. It’s all over. There is much cheering and shouting in the streets outside of my window. Football is big here, and apparently the game was closely watched, and the celebrations go on for some time.

I went out to a farm today with a colleague to talk to a farmer about expanding her rice seed outgrower network (i.e., they grow seed that is used for planting – outgrowers are smaller farm operations that get seed and other inputs and assistance advanced from the lead farmer, and agree to sell all or most of their output back to the lead farmer, some of it used to repay advances). On the way there we stopped at an orphanage to leave off a couple of bags of vegetables from someone else in the project, and they were all gathered together apparently for a prayer meeting. We were asked to speak to the group, and I told them that this was the second time that I had been to Liberia (they applauded) and that our project was working to help farmers grow more to feed themselves and their neighbours. One of my colleagues was asked to explain about the veggies, and pulled them out of the bag, asking what each one was, with kids shouting out – lots of fun, and she and I realized that we did not know what all of them were!

(Accreditation: Microsoft Clipart)

I went up-country a couple of days ago to visit a rubber plantation, and in a meeting we were offered coffee and tea, which came from a jar with instant coffee, tea bags, instant creamer, and a jar of sugar cubes. The guy across from me kept adding sugar cubes to his coffee, I swear must have been at least ten of them. I was reminded of the scene in To Kill A Mockingbird when Jem and Scout invite Walter to come to their house for lunch on the first day of school, and he asks for the syrup, which he pours on his meat and vegetables, and Scout says that she thinks he would have poured it in his milk glass if she had not asked him what in the Sam Hill was he doing. Anyway, I think the guy likes a little coffee with his sugar.

I have not found any good coffee here yet, although I met a Dutchman last time who has promised that he knows of some good stuff being grown. The local coffee is Liberica, which is comparable to Arabica and Robusta, and I know that a little bit of it is grown in Indonesia, where I first encountered it. Turns out that it was developed here, hence the name. It is highly resistant to a rust disease, but it is pretty bland and not very interesting.

(Accreditation: Microsoft Clipart)

A big item of interest to me on the drive was seeing caladiums growing wild in a field. Years ago I grew a couple of these as house plants, and it always amazes me to see anything like that in the wild. Of course, there are also Norfolk Island pines here, so I can happily remember back to when we had one of those, which we used as a Christmas tree.

Mothers' Day in Liberia

The ex-pat staff at the office were invited by one of the local staff members to go to her (Methodist) church this Sunday for a celebration of Mothers’ Day, and I was delighted to be included in the invitation. The church had a big to-do over all the mothers in the audience, honoured several, and had an extended celebration of their Mother of the Year. At one point people were given time to distribute cloth flowers to their mothers, friends, etc. One woman came over and pinned one of the flowers on me – I guess I looked likely.

It was interesting hearing the hymns, which were all the Methodist standards, although with the words occasionally altered, like:

 “Onward Christian Mothers, God has chosen you

Much of Christ’s service, Only you can do.

Loyal to your mission, Through a hundred years

Giving light and comfort, Drying human tears.”

The choir did sing an Amen – Alleluia song that sounded like a simplified version of the Hallelujah Chorus that I liked a lot.

The service lasted for 3.5 hours, which was actually longer than I had estimated, as I thought that just three hours had elapsed. While I don’t want to go again next Sunday, I did enjoy it.

I also do have to comment on the dresses – all the women in the church’s Women’s Organization wore white dresses, often with lace and the like. It did look a lot like bridesmaid dresses (although all white) but the dress style seems to work a lot better on African women. The congregation also included other women wearing typical African dresses made out of traditional African patterned fabric, and complete with ruffles and flounces. These are usually about ankle length and would look ridiculous on me but seem just fine on local women. I started picking out the patterns I liked, including Methodist fabric – a design with the Methodist symbol cross with a flame off to the side – used for both women’s dresses and for men’s shirts.

Sometimes the African print is designed for advertising. For instance, at home I have some President Ellen Johnson Sirleaf fabric that was made up for the election campaign. I also saw that at Rawbank, a bank in Democratic Republic of Congo that I was working with. The female members of staff in the rural areas would wear a length of the patterned fabric as lapas, the two yard wrap-around that you see pictures of rural African women wearing.

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I hope you found this article interesting; I certainly did. Traveler8 has built up a vast store of amazing experiences through her career, and I hope we can look forward to more of these great insights into different cultures.

If you would like to know more about Liberia, I really recommend the CIA World Factbook. I first used the site when I fell in love with Alexander McCall Smith’s Precious Ramotswe and I wanted to know more about her beloved Botswana. The World Factbook was soon my number one go-to place for the lowdown on any country. The link to their Liberia section is:

https://www.cia.gov/library/publications/the-world-factbook/geos/li.html

The Highlights of Our First Trip to France

From the journal:

1.   Visiting Catherine’s (of course). Wow, what a shop; what an experience. Cannot wait to go back there. While we were in there a couple of English women with EXTREMELY noisy (read: totally undisciplined) children came in there. The women ignored their little monsters, who were fingering everything, banging on glass shelves, grabbing at beautiful displays etc. The divine French creature serving us – the daughter of the owner – crossed her arms, and in a very French manner said, “We will wait until they leave; they are so noisy”. Oh, I loved that. Imagine the reaction if that happened in a shop here. She was so right, though, as such a shop is a place for indulgence, not a place for brats. 

2.   The Welsh boating couple we met in Nevers who insisted on driving us to a supermarket and welcomed us on board their lovely boat. Such kindness to strangers is just lovely to come across. 

3.   A stunningly elegant Parisienne we spotted near the super-dooper-busy intersection outside the Garnier Opera House. The traffic was, as ever, insane, and then we spotted her, weaving through it, dressed immaculately in a navy blue skirt suit (the skirt almost a pencil, I should add), sheer stockings, high, high, navy blue shoes, with a cigarette in one hand, steering her bicycle with the other, and all the while one shoulder pressed up to her ear as she conducted a telephone conversation on her mobile. C’est magnifique! 

4.   The cheeky young chicky-babe in the very short tartan kilt and white shirt who came bouncing along rue Bonaparte towards us, swinging her articulated hips as she moved and all the while maintaining deep eye-contact with my man, smiling at him with the most ego-boosting come-hither smile – honestly, it was almost R-rated, that smile. Oh, it made his whole trip, I can tell you (he still smiles at the memory), and I just thought it was wonderful.

5.   Cruising up and down the Seine, and walking along under those bridges of Paris.  

6.   Paris by night, the fabulous illuminations, the soft yellow lights on old buildings, the Tower dazzling you with her brightness, the wonderful light shows that play across the face of the Assemblee Nationale. Ahhh, lovely. 

7.   The total peace and serenity of a canal boat trip – need to start planning the next one.Smart-for-Two cars and the crazy parking – don’t think you could fit a travel brochure between their bumpers. 

8.   The ridiculously expensive hair-dresser who gave up on holding a conversation with me and instead handed me a French magazine to read. Oh well, the photos were eye candy, I assure you. The €60 price tag for a shampoo and blow-dry wasn’t.  

9.   That painting in the Louvre – and, no, I don’t mean the Mona Lisa, impressive though she may be. And if you don’t know which painting I mean, you will have to go back and read through my posts again. 

10.  Monet’s stunningly beautiful Giverny. I would gladly go and camp out in those grounds. It gives me a lovely feeling just to think of them – and it helps that as I type this I can look up at the lounge room wall and see display, framed for posterity, some of the photographs we took while there. 

11.  Buying heaps of little goodies for the people we love, and looking forward to wrapping them and handing them over with the hope that they carry with them a little bit of our journey.”

Oh, and sharing the journey with you, of course. Thanks for the company.

France: Adieu Paris; Bonjour Perth

14/15 May

From the journal:

““I just can’t believe that this is our last day in beautiful, wonderful Paris. The time here has seemed to stretch like a piece of elastic and before-Paris seems so long ago, but at the same time it’s been way too quick and I want to stop the clock. 

After breakfast we just had time for one more walk around, and so we wended our way through the Tuileries, up past the Madelaine to the Garnier Opera, and then back down to the hotel for a coffee and a final check of everything to make sure nothing was left behind. All packed, all secured, all documents checked and re-checked. Time to check out, sadly, from this great little hotel.

Our driver turned up exactly on time and so we were soon belted up in our seats and zooming, together with a German couple, out to Charles de Gaulle airport. We really wished the driver hadn’t turned up and we had caught a cab as he was a full on lunatic of a driver, really appalling. The ride to the airport was bumpy as hell, and all four of us were being flung right, left, right, left. I’m sure that guy even managed to swing us around like a whirlpool even while seemingly going in a straight line. This was one driver who would never earn a tip; probably only ever earn abuse – and well deserved.

Anyway, we were dropped off first at the terminal we needed to catch our Air Mauritius flight out. Check-in was fast and fluid, and we then went through security and immigration and into the business class lounge, where we settled down with some bubbly, some snacks, and a newspaper.

 

We hadn’t been in the lounge very long when our names were called over the PA and we were told that there was some issue with our luggage. We then had to go back downstairs, through customs and immigration – unbelievable – and to the baggage service office. When we arrived there we discovered the German couple who we had shared the minibus with on the way to the airport were also there. Two of our three suitcases were then brought into the room and placed in the middle of the floor, together with one other suitcase which we hadn’t seen before. Our brains were reeling – was this some drug smuggling thing and were we about to be arrested? Were these innocent looking middle-aged Germans actually drug mules or kings of some cocaine cartel? A very serious-looking airport officer pointed to the cases and asked us to identify which were ours, which of course we did, pointing to our two cases.  He asked us a few times if the other case was ours, and naturally we said that, no, we had never seen that case before. He then asked the Germans if the third suitcase was their case, and they also said that, no, it wasn’t.

 

Apparently what had happened was that when the Germans were dropped off at their departure terminal, their case was missing, and so they assumed that we had taken it. Of course, the driver had simply buggered off, not interested at all in what had happened to their case – we think he probably simply didn’t load it into the vehicle when he picked them up. Anyway, of course they then headed to find us, thinking that perhaps we had their case. We were concerned because one of our cases was missing and we were being asked about this third, strange case. After some minutes our third suitcase was located, and so we thought all was now well, although the poor Germans were pretty frantic as they had now absolutely no idea where their luggage was.  We assumed we could now head back to the lounge, but, no, we now had to take our suitcases and check in again, go through customs and security again, the whole rigamarole, and of course by now quite some time had passed and so we only had time to rush back to the lounge for a quick freshen-up and to grab some bottles of water before boarding the aircraft.

The flight from Paris to Mauritius was fantastic. The food was excellent, and the cabin service absolutely faultless. We were looked after by a flight attendant called Mr Barbe, an expert in his profession. The champers was good and flowed freely, as did his smile. We felt pampered and welcome. The pilot flew quite low right down the coast of Italy, pointing out places like the Isle of Capri, Mount Versuvius, and then, finally, Sicily, as we flew overhead. The day was a perfect one, and visibility superb, so it was a real treat.

After that, once we were flying out over the Med, we watched a movie and then slept comfortably until the plane started its descent into Mauritius. Coming into Mauritius with the sun just coming up was absolutely beautiful as the mountains slowly became more and more visible in the lightening sky. Lovely.

We had a few hours on the ground in Mauritius, but couldn’t be bothered going through immigration etc, and so we just spent the time in the lounge where we were looked after by charming staff. At one point one of the attendants – a very young, very thin, very handsome, black Elvis look-alike - brought us coffee and cakes. He waited until we had sipped and tasted, seeming to await our approval. I told him the cakes were “beautiful” and “lovely”, wanting to assure him that we were very happy with what he had brought us. He responded with, “Yes, Madam, it’s always lovely, and beautiful – and usually very delicious as well”. It was all we could do not to laugh, it was just so delightful and charming – and funny, you must admit.
 

At last it was time to board our plane for the flight to Perth. The food, the drinks, the service were all fantastic, but I don’t think you would anywhere find an attendant as good as Mr Barbe of the Paris to Mauritius sector.

It was wonderful to land in Perth, which always looks totally sensational from the air, whether by day or night. We were through customs and immigration really quickly, even with stopping to pick up our pre-ordered duty free booze-ahol.  Out of the airport and into a cab, and we were soon zooming along Leach Highway headed for home.

Home, lovely, lovely little house. We missed you, and it’s just beautiful to be back in you and to fall in love with you all over again. Can’t help but think, though, that it won’t be long before we want to put ourselves in a situation of missing you again as we explore somewhere else.”
 

Thanks for coming on this journey with us.  I will be back with a little summing up – you know, favourite bits, highlights, funny sights. Hope you’ll join me for that.

In the meantime, here's a reminder of why we fell in love with France:

The parks,

 

the flowers,

the river,

the architecture,

the artwork that is simply everywhere,

the great Metro entrances

and, of course,

the canal trip

and the villages we visited.