Lucky, lucky, lucky and a hippie birthday!

Clive James said of Rio that it was both the most exciting and the most terrifying of places. Greyrocks feels the same about Barcelona! As it has become a hub for the migrations we have the prospect of four journeys a year on the "Line of Fear" connecting the city centre with the airport. By changing trains at a different station it is possible to limit the number of stops through which you pass in a state of tension, but something will still happen. This time there was a jostling at the doors of our carriage. Bob moved to protect the big bags. Ruth grabbed the small ones. There was some shouting and the doors closed with only a couple and their luggage having stayed inside. She was tiny and shaking. He was sturdy and fit. He was holding the ripped-off handle of his wheelie bag, had the bag at his feet and was clutching his wallet. Our Romanian friends had tangled with the wrong man. His wallet was intact  - including his Florida Police badge! A little later a discussion took place between us, them and a fellow passenger who is British but lives in the city. Street crime policy in the city is bonkers, and no good at all for the tourism image!


Anyway we survived, and found ourselves with a few hours at the airport. Terminal 2 is now exclusively budget airlines, and therefore has few facilities that a traveller might need - like signs to tell you that Easyjet operate from a separate building. Frustrated fuming passengers abound, and there is no ATM in that building. Backwards and forwards (we wanted some cash commission-free during this brief window in Spain), grumblings, and then a reminder of how little this was costing! We were off to Milan:- not the Ryanair joke of Bergamo, but a real Milan airport. It was a quick and comfortable flight, and we simply had to ring for the free shuttle bus to take just us to the overnight hotel. Our review says it all. Nice one!
Back at Malpensa (Terminal 2) early next morning we realised that Easyjet has colonised this old building, too! Crowded, dismal, short on catering, badly signed, and - naturally - the added bonus of Italians travelling in packs! More deep breathing! On the plane last (as a Greyrocks policy) we found perfect seats and were soon in Heraklion.


Now, East and West Crete feel about each other rather as do North and South London. We are off the West and would normally fly or sail into Chania, which is civilised  - Heraklion being industrial, dirty, and with the sort of tourists best avoided; but this year we had a cunning plan, which worked to perfection.
First we needed to get to Rethymnon. By taxi this would be an arm and a leg, and by bus a tedious walk between bus stations and would still probably need a taxi for the final part, so we had previously booked with Airport Transfers. This was supposed to be a minibus with up to three drop-offs. It turned out to be exclusive use of a proper taxi, and all for about 23GBP. Our driver took advice on where our rooms were and we were taken to the door, where we were met by the wonderful Lefteris, who said his last studio had been let so we would have to have a bigger apartment. It had two balconies and a sea view for a ridiculous price. When we left two days later he drove us to the bus station. That's a lot of luck!
The beach where we stayed is reminiscent of the Nea Hora area of Chania:- plenty of sand, organised beach areas but plenty of public space, easy entry into the sea and a continuous run of tavernas and bars. The old town is also like a smaller Chania, and probably worth exploring further. We picked a random bar and the owner declared an obsession with Paleochora and brought extra drinks!




From Rethymnon we were bound for the second Matala Hippie Festival. Last year's post has the background to this, and we had built our migration around the re-run:- with some tweaking of the details. First in getting there, we obviously needed just one bus to get as far as Agia Galini, and we had decided that if the wait for the onward next two buses was too lengthy we would treat ourselves to a taxi. (One can never be sure about the buses at Agia Galini as they are operated by the two opposing branches of KTEL, and knowledge is power!) 


It would indeed be over three hours to wait, so after a beer and a chat with the German bar owner we met last year Bob was tasked with doing something creative, and he returned with a privately secured ride to Matala. More Luck! We had also booked accommodation early and had three nights at the Matala Bay Hotel for a very good price. 


On balance the festival as a whole was not quite as wonderful as last year's. First, there was no Angelos Skordilis, who had died in the autumn. - RIP! Second the German efficiency of organisation had been supplanted by something quite else - but more local! Hence there were numerous different programmes in circulation  - none of which matched reality on stages. It didn't really matter - there were some good and some great acts! The pavement painting idea had been extended to include a competition, and there was an interesting range of stuff on sale - not all of it alternative! In fact it was all rather more commercial and mainstream - with a huge influx on the Sunday of Greek day-trippers. We bumped into Welsh Phil and friends from Paleo, and -weirdly - Lefteris from the apartment in Rethymnon!

On Sunday we also bumped into Barry and Judith (see last year's post!) and we led each other astray - getting ourselves thrown out of the Lions Bar at 3am, making Monday daytime activity rather gentle; but by the evening we were ready to go out for a big fish dinner with sparklers to celebrate Ruth's birthday.
Our final stroke of luck in  a lucky week of migration was that they offered to take us to Rethymnon next day in their car -despite our vast luggage - and that then became taking us all the way to our Chania hotel. 
A journey of sun, great company, Cretan scenery and smells and a great dollop of classic music to doze by! Magic!
Luck deserted us, however, when in the Chania hotel lift Ruth dropped the hefty wheelie bag on her big toe - not helping at all the Matala-acquired twisted knee, and the arthritis. There were two tasks to be done that evening before months on end in the (delightful) sticks: duck at Shaghai Lily's and French red wine from Carrefour! These were effected at a very slow pace! Next morning we just got a taste of the improvements to Chania bus station before the 8.30 bus for the final stage.

France in May:- Maybe not - but you do get some bank holidays!

It did stop raining once at least!

There was a lot of weather in France too! We built the month round three stays of about a week each in mobile homes, with the rest of the time in hotels. After spending the night in Dunkerque we drove down to Normandy, found the campsite in Benouville (Pegasus Bridge -  a lot of Dutch and a few Brits with caravans) - and slowly decamped into the mobile home (a very comfortable and modern one). We had just about finished this when it began to rain, and it barely stopped for a week! Bob managed one riverside ride on a somewhat better day, but it was a grim time for rain, wind and cold. The excellent indoor pool was the best Ruth managed in terms of exercise! We made some trips to places we knew from spending each Easter holiday in Normandy during the nineties, we had some pleasant lunches out, we cooked using first class ingredients and we watched a lot of  stuff on the laptop and French TV! On the second Sunday the second round of the Presidential election took place. We were jubilant at the result- of course - but it was interesting to observe that so much less expensive advertising and campaigning  was evident than in a UK general election. Is this austerity or a more intelligent electorate?

The next stop was Availles Limouzine, so that we could spend time with George and Gregory. The weather got better and better as we drove down  - and by the time we arrived in this delightful little spot 10km from Le Queroy (but over both a departmental and regional border) it was - as had been predicted - scorchio! In the years we have been visiting the area the hotel has been dilapidated, closed, bought and renovated by the council and run by a series of couples. It is now a Logis de France. We didn't eat dinner there, and the WiFi was a bit odd, but the rooms are spacious and very tastefully furnished. We enjoyed our stay and the Thursday little market outside. As G and G were very busy with the business and a school trip we weren't able to take them out for a meal, so instead  raided the supermarkets and laid on a spread at their house.

The moles had been there first!

Next we headed over to the Vendée. This was another time-warp stay. We had been to the area three times about ten years ago and thought it was worth a punt! We had found a campsite that would be open and looked well-located in the forest south of St Jean de Monts. We had chosen a cheap and small "cottage", which turned out to be serviceable but was distinctly past its sell-by date in comparison to some of the flash stuff on the site. We wondered why we were put there when the place was virtually empty, but as the week progressed we realised:- French Bank Holidays in May! Foreigners can only look on in amazement and speculate as to when the ponts, bouchons and engorgements will actually happen! The 1st and 8th happen irrespective of day of the week. (This time it was Tuesday.. we stayed off the roads but needed have bothered!) Ascension and Pentecost happen on a Thursday and Monday - 11 days apart and on dates that depend on Easter! Who knows when the hordes will descend? For a few days the facilities were barely open - including the bar where the WiFi was available -, the big jolly bloke on the staff gave daily kisses as he hung around doing nothing, and the indoor pool was a pleasant place to be! By Wednesday evening we sank without trace amongst most of the population of Nantes and Niort, and the big bloke donned a Mickey Mouse suit! So it stopped being a quiet hideaway, but nonetheless the town is OK! Its network of cycle paths has been improved further and is extensive, well-advertised and signed. There is even a Station de Velos at a crucial point with water and air! After the nice man at the bike shop had fixed the brakes on Ruth's bike we did some rides, but the sea temperature was still not good enough - so we had an afternoon in a very pleasant public swimming pool. Excellent food and wine in town, but a bit expensive - catering as it does for French tourists with the many holiday apartments. We left on the Saturday of Ascension weekend, and as we packed up it started to rain!
The three days booked in Agen Premiere Classe were as bad as one can imagine. It was a disgustingly wet drive down. A key road to the hotel had been closed causing yet more navigational mayhem, and then the automatic check-in didn't work! We went over to the Casino mall across the road to kill time and look for a WiFi zone. Nothing that was advertised worked, and the rain just kept coming! Eventually we got into the room, and we barely left it for two days or so! Nothing touristic was worth doing in the rain, things closed down on Sunday and we just hunkered down in the  (very intimate!) warmth with wine, cold food and the laptop! Fellow guests included a set of British guys driving some asphalting lorries down to somewhere and stuffed by the weekend road regulations in France.

By the Tuesday morning we were more than ready to leave, and the rain stopped, giving us a good clear run down via Bordeaux and Toulouse to Agde, where we spent the final week in pretty good weather! we were now between Bank Holidays, so Mimosas was fairly quiet, and we had another excellent mobile with plenty of kit and (now) free WiFi on each plot! There is also an improved cycle path down to the river, and the outdoor but slightly heated swimming pool was in working order. So a good week - at last! We did a number of rides around the different parts of Agde - including a new one across the river - to which we went by ferry!

For the Bank Holiday weekend (!) Agde was en fête with an amazing spectacle of costume, craft, dramatisations and so on celebrating its history (2 600 years allegedly). 

We stayed until the Tuesday, then packed the bikes into the body of Yvette and drove to Perpignan for one last night in France. En route we made a quick stop in Canet, and then thought of moules in the sunshine in St Cyprien; but the weekend must have been just too lucrative and tiring for the restauranteurs as by 2.10pm no-one would serve us! Supermarket ham sandwich then!
We took Yvette next day to her usual resting place, and were transported to the station for the Barcelona airport train. Needless to say that journey had its incident:- but that's another story!

White Rose to Red Rose (wet ones)

The White Rose of Yorkshire

 This was the furthest North Greyrocks had ventured, so there was an expectation that as we came South again the weather would improve. How wrong we were! First we stayed three nights in Forest Hill with old Labour Party friends, and on the Thursday we based ourselves for the day in Balham so that we could visit our tenants in the evening, but first we went to Croydon and struck the "Height Restriction" problem over parking. By the time we had found somewhere accessible with Yvette and bikes it was pouring with rain, so Bob did the minimum and we returned to Balham. We took three machines-worth of washing to the laundrette.  As the time passed the rain worsened and became hail with thunder and lightning. Passers-by were cluttering up the place to shelter! When the parking time expired it was so uninviting that we delayed returning to the car and later - on exit -  got a flashed warning of a possible 60 pound fine! We were not feeling too pleased to be in jolly England!
It did get better! All was well at the let Balham house, we did the first of several Wetherspoons cheap dinner deals, had a dry and successfully parked shopping session in Croydon next day, and went to Paul and Cheryl's for diner a six and a great Socialist chin-wag! On Saturday decamped to the new Travelodge in Penge (known as Crystal Palace for marketing purposes).
On Sunday it didn't rain, and we we had an easy drive to Hampshire and back for lunch with Ruth's Mum and Dad, but on Monday it started again! We had arranged to visit the Morden flat with our master-handyman Pete, and then to take him for a drink, meeting his former colleague Barry at the Duke in Balham. Great gossip and banter - but disgusting weather!
It was no better in Brighton where we spent three nights!

Eggs Benedict!

Good old English fayre!

On arrival (and in the rain) we had an (ongoing) altercation with the parking system outside the hotel. The Travelodge receptionist was very helpful, but powerless to deal with their new contractors. We fumed, then paid up more cash to get the deal we wanted, and took the bus down into the city to meet Chloe after work and go for dinner. Next day it was pouring with rain again and we had to get Yvette out to Portslade for her MOT. Bob nobly went alone, took the bikes off at the garage and waited an age for a bus back in cold and rain. We met up and had a day of dodging rain again. Deja-vu! Pier a no-go area so fish and chips lunch at Harry Ramsden's again! (This time, though, we got the pensioners' special!) We have never seen the sea here so rough! We went back to get the car, and had to load the bikes back up in the pouring rain. After due consideration we decided it was too wet to venture out again, and got cold food from the Co-op! Thursday looked a bit better, and we had to move the car so went down to the Marina, had a Wetherspoons breakfast and mooched round the shops. Poor old Chloe was so shattered in the evening after some ghastly long shift that we simply went round to her flat and ordered an Indian take-away. She fell asleep before we left!

Friday and Saturday nights were with newly-weds Alastair and Josiane in Rotherfield. We stopped for fuel and breakfast at Tescos in Lewes (never seen so many Guardian crosswords!), and were then taken out for lunch in a pub with a roaring fire. Just the job! By Saturday the rain was doing its worst and our time in Tunbridge Wells was very soggy! The sun came out and the rain stopped on Sunday as we drove past Ashford. With a navigational error, truncated stop for a last real ale and a tedious wait for a 90-minute delayed ferry (weather of course!) we waved goodbye to Blighty!

22 days - 17 wet - all of them cold! Surely Northern France would be better! Watch this space!

Our Friends in the North!

Eight days in Yorkshire in mid-April! The weather was not kind to us!
The schedule was based around visiting friends: - old and new.

We stayed four four nights in a pleasant guest house in Bootham. On the first night we met Chris and Penny, and Bob went with them to see a weird Turkish film. Next day we started preparing the bicycles, but even with the few warmer clothes that we could locate in Yvette it was bitterly cold, and Ruth refused to ride anywhere, so Bob went alone. We met up periodically with C and P, and in particular were taken on a mega-tour by car - see below. As we reached the Moors the heavens opened. We took a quick look at Goathland - now a magnet for coach-trippers as it the location for the TV series "Heartbeat", and nearby stopped at a famous pub in Beck Hole. Apart from us there was a stream (!) of very soggy walkers.
Whitby was dry, full and very cold. We did various tourist things, and had fish and chips at The Magpie, and then went to Scarborough.
After York we went to Leeds where it was raining, and we became very frustrated trying to park with the cycles aloft, so we made it a quick stay, including a look at the Merrion Hotel where Bob had worked many years ago. It looked past its best!
Thence to Halifax, where we stayed at a Premier Inn beautifully located next to the canal. Bob's old friend and colleague Rob - not seen for 19 years - walked down to meet us and we spent a wonderful afternoon with him, his wife, two sons, two grandchildren and their mothers; following this up next day with lunch in the newly trendy part of town, where an old street has been covered over to form an arcade.

Our final stop was in Huddersfield. this had been arranged in March when our occasional but regular Fuerteventura neighbours were in residence and issued the invitation. Unfortunately the weather really did deteriorate during our stay, but they also arranged a very full day of touring and dodging showers, including to the Huddersfield Canal, Holmfirth (home of another TV series - "Last of the Summer Wine") and a delightful pub and micro-brewery in Marsden.

On departure day it was raining even more, and we had a rough drive back along the M62 with its roadworks, to arrive back down South. Here are a few shots from the trip as a whole!

Treking North and wondering why!

This post should have done in April, but we have been suffering some setbacks on the ICT front since leaving Lattes! Internet access has been cheap but slow, or fast but pricey, or non-existent, or inaccessible. So here is a quick run down on our run up France and England since April 3rd!
We left in fairly dull weather and were told by the campsite man that we were his clients sympas, which was nice! As we left we caught sight of one of the first Line 3 Montpellier trams in all its multi-coloured glory on the first day of operation. Five miles later came the first remarkable event of the trek. The two cycles were on the rack at the back of Yvette, and had been carefully secured earlier that morning, but we had not checked the fixing of the rack to the car, and rather close to a city roundabout there was a loud crash and we saw the two bikes (firmly attached to the rack) lying in the road behind! Zoot alors! Deploy high-vis vest and hazard lights and get fixing! Bob's good bike was on the outside and had suffered more damage, and the socket set needed for the rack was well-hidden, but a repair was effected and we moved on!

A highlight of the rest of the day's travels was traversing the Millau bridge. The outlook was a bit murky, but the structure is most impressive:- one of the great grand projets effected so well in France! The night was spent in Montlucon - and it was getting colder!
The next day we made quick progress towards Alencon and we geared up for an early arrival, but thanks to strange exit numbering, and a closed slip road we got into a serious "Lost in France" situation. We were within 3 minutes of the hotel, which we have visited before, but got sent on a Deviation, which was on reflection for those going elsewhere, went round the ring road with no idea what we were doing and ended up on the right industrial estate but unable to find what we wanted. Huge frustration and much of the saving on cheaper diesel frittered away! That evening Bob's shorts seemed fairly inappropriate for the weather! Next day we had the usual 250 miles or so to do, and the sun shone a little! We got round Rouen almost to plan and stayed at the new Dunkerque P Classe, where we were entertained by two Polish youth football teams enjoying themselves along the walkways! As we walked out for dinner people were pointing at Bob's shorts and exclaiming!
We were up early (Bob in jeans!) and took the 10 am ferry. This was uneventful, as was the drive up to Oulton Broad, where we went to Halfords and left the bike for repair. We stayed three nights in Ricky's place, meeting up with the rest of this branch of the family (and new naughty puppy!) several times - including for Easter Sunday lunch with entertainment at one of the many holiday camps on the coast, but once again the planned day out (Bank Holiday in this case) in Great Yarmouth was sabotaged by disgusting weather, and we were barely out of the car, pub or shopping mall all day. The consolations were market chips, and some excellent real ale! We set off for Yorkshire with some trepidation, and some new warmer clothes on Easter Tuesday (April 11th)

Out in the Midi sun!

 We flew to Barcelona for about 80 euros in total, and took the two trains to our pick-up point. On the first Metro we were mindful of both our own experience last year, and of information we had gathered from the TV ("Our man in..") about local policing policy, so could not relax, and did witness some very suspicious behaviour, and have a discussion with a young woman about it. We had a long wait at the connecting station and basked in bright sunshine, were transported back to pick up Yvette:- newly washed and ready to go!  We spent the night in Salt and then drove over the border - again in beautiful weather - to Lattes:- the new town on the outskirts of Montpellier where we stayed in October.
We just had time to unpack kit and bikes before going to get Chloe from the airport. She had a few days of leave to use up before the end of March, and had spoken of exotic places with guaranteed sun to help her recover from the rigours of exploitative employment in a famous UK chain of bakers! We persuaded her that there wasn't enough time for that, and that  it would be better  to meet us in the mobile home. After a few sunny days she was wishing her extra day's leave could be spent there too, so we changed the flight for a reasonable fee, and she managed five nights with us. (Easyjet are so much more reasonable than Ryanair in this respect!)

The weather was glorious! We spent time in a good range of the coastal towns - including one new to us - Carnon, where we shopped at the market. We hired a campsite bike and went together to Palavas, but it was very uncomfortable so later rides were just Chloe and Bob. We introduced Chloe to the delights of a degustation de coquillage, and she was unimpressed - particularly by oysters! On the day of departure we went quite early to the airport and waited for check-in, only to discover  that the French air traffic controllers' strike would mean a 5 hour delay. Asked not to leave the airport we bought a picnic lunch, found chairs from the car and sat in the sun in a car park. We received a lot of "Bon Apetits!" from the passers-by. Then we were bored, and lacking information. We decided to drive back the 10 minutes to the campsite from where we could monitor the flight online, so it was another game of Scrabble in the sun! Unfortunately we managed a navigational error on the way back to the airport, and Ruth did a major panic in trying to get Chloe to the gate on time.
Next day was our last one and the weather broke! No last sunny al fresco tables, no last bike ride, no last strolls round markets... etc etc, and that is how it has continued!

No Blues is Bad News

It's Easter Sunday and we are sitting in Ricky's warm bungalow in Oulton Broad looking out on a dull wet UK. We left Corralejo on March 27th, and blue skies are a thing of the past. Yesterday morning in Dunkirk Bob finally had to admit defeat and replace his shorts with trousers. (People had been looking at - and commenting on - the bare knees for several days as we made our Northern Progress - details to follow!)

So here is a review of Winter in the Canaries.
First it was the shortest stay for us since records began (i.e. 2007!). We got there later than usual, we took a long 65th birthday break in Gran Can, we spent a month on the Goa trip., and we left relatively early. Combine this with the reluctance to venture out in bad weather and we reached the end of the season feeling that we had missed out on beach, pool, day trips, time with friends and meals and music in some of our favoured places.
Second - the weather! The tourism wallahs wouldn't want this pointed out, but it was very disappointing! To be fair it was still probably better on average than anywhere else in Europe, but we are suffering our own version of climate change, with the main feature being that the famous almost permanent strong winds are now usually from the N to E quadrant and blooming cold! Typically in daytime the sky is blue, the sun shines and in shelter it can be a very good 30 plus temperature, but in exposed locations (like the seaside!) and everywhere after sunset it has been been seriously cold, with only the smokers lurking outside restaurants and bars, and the PR people ("whippers-in") wrapped up in Arctic gear! It is a testament to the insulated design of our duplex that we didn't have to resort to getting out the fan heater, but many did - especially in rural areas, and hats, gloves, fleeces, duvets and blankets have sold better than beach kit! At least it didn't rain much!
Finally the crisis! The Canaries are somewhat cushioned from Spanish austerity, and the island has many more flights now from the Peninsula bringing in Spanish tourists. (Ironically the demise of Spanair seems to have improved this!) The town has often seemed very busy; but the cry is much the same as last year:- "Plenty of people - no money!" Environmental improvements - especially round the old town - are the result of old EU money. The local council continues to ignore dog poo as the main bad feature, whilst doing strange things in and around the carnival.
Mystery surrounded the Blues Festival, which has usually followed closely after Carnaval. First it was to be in late April, but now it is officially off! No sponsor could be found. Lots of us think something cost-free could be done around the streets, but no-one rose to the challenge. With this, and the two English-speaking radio stations gone the music scene was already looking thin, then we heard that Castaway would close at the end of March, and - much more significantly - that so too would Imagine. This is a bit of a mystery in terms of the reason and what will happen to the gifted Eric!
But all is not bad news on the live music scene! Our neighbours Dave and Pete have been playing weekly at Pescaditos and have now increased the frequency to both Tuesday and Friday lunchtimes, and are really pulling in the crowds and getting rave reviews. The only trouble is:- the staff need to hand out blankets!