Tag: Travel | Page 3 | David Coveney

Rocking in Paris

I spend… oooh, lots of time in Paris. Yet I’ve never actually quite got round to writing about it on this site.

Why not? Good question. Perhaps because it’s a little personal. I’ve lived there, loved there, and so on. To talk about it in depth may reveal me more to the world at large. Although I present an open face on this site, I keep my personal and social life as private as possible. However, after a bit of thought I’ve realised that I can still write about the city without actually blowing the gaff, as it were.

Festival des Inrocks

For those that don’t know – this is a festival held annually in France, primarily Paris, by the rock magazine Les Inrockuptibles. I wangled my way in to the various shows this year thanks to carefully blagged passes and was treated to a wide range of music. A lot of it British, curiously enough. Seems a long way to go to listen to Brit-rock, but heck, it’s a nice environment to do it in!

This year’s line-up included Lily Allen, Jarvis Cocker, Guillemots, The Kooks and many more – some you’ve heard of, some you haven’t. A lot of the groups headlining were British, so in effect I’d travelled all that way to watch UK acts. Ah well… there were some good French acts too. In particular Rock & Roll, a punk-rock group (watch out, my music terminology is generally off-kilter) who put in a huge amount of energy and effort. Not my kind of music, but I could enjoy the act. And one of the lead singer’s plectrums flew off, hit Romana on the head, and was promptly bagged by me as a memento!

We also accidentally stumbled into a show by Etienne Daho. We hadn’t heard of him, but reckoning that he was one of the biggest names on the list he must be good. So we were a bit shocked when he came out on stage and acted like it was still the eighties. The music, the clothes, the dancing…. I mean, I know the French music scene is a bit mixed up and not as leading edge as in the UK, but this didn’t seem right.

Eventualy we discovered it was something like Rick Astley getting a gig at Glastonbury. Those that were of a certain age when he was about would love it and enjoy it, but anyone who didn’t realise it was a one-off comeback would be left baffled.

The City of Paris Itself

What is so hard about Paris is that it’s been written about by most of the finest writers in the world. How can I expect to add something new to the mix?

And here’s the answer… I can’t.

There is little left to write about, yet so much too. I’d rather create an entire new site for Paris, than try to sum it up in one article. After all, it’s home to millions of people, with a tightly packed centre full of museums, secrets catacombs, alleys, shops, dreams, nightmares and passion. One page here does the city no justice whatsoever.

But I’m not one to give up quite so easily. So in fact I will sum up Paris in one sentence:

It’s a better city to live, love and work in than it is to visit as a tourist.

Italy – Lucky in Lucca, and more….

Sadly, I never had a chance to write fully about Italy – so you’ll have to make do with this brief overview. Sorry!

I’m now back from a couple of weeks touring in Italy. Shattered, and surprised at my lack of internet access. It simply wasn’t an easy thing to sort out in some places, and I didn’t have my usual phone as it’s broken, so I was relying on an old mobile for access.

I’m struggling, actually, to give words to this country. Usually beautiful, sometimes ugly, almost always friendly…

The Statistics:

3200 miles driven; 3 new dents on the car; about 100 gallons (378 litres) of petrol used; highest speed travelled – daren’t say but speed limiters may have been touched; speed cameras triggered: 1; chats with police officers: 1

The Places – In (very) Brief

Milan

Nicer than expected. Friendly folk. Food ok. Lovely but pricey hotel in the centre appears to be something of a secret. Shall I keep it that way? Ask and I might add the name… heheh!

Parking in places could be challenging, like many Italian cities, and expensive, but at least the city itself proved easy to navigate and we found the hotel quickly.

Verona

We stayed in an astonishingly pretty campsite in the fortress overlooking the city. Food excellent where available but watch out – it would seem late eating isn’t a big thing here.

Taking a walk through the narrow streets at night is enchanting, and in the day you can visit the balcony where Juliet reputedly greeted Romeo. A lot of people rub the breast of Juliet’s statue, in particular her left breast which shines golden compared to the rest of her body. I’m still not sure why but I guess it brings luck, love, or just horniness to those who touch it.

Venice

So pretty, and (mostly) doesn’t smell as bad as some had suggested after all. Food good in one place, distinctly mediocre in another – so pays to search out a place that’s obviously popular with locals. Campsite turned out to be next to the runway at the airport – as are many of the other campsites. Watch out. Pricey too, at £20 per night including a car.

Bologona

There was something strange about this town. It was almost deserted, car hostile, and difficult to navigate. We couldn’t find a hotel in the centre that looked even vaguely approachable late at night and ended up resorting to the Holiday Inn near the airport – expensive rack rates so use Amex or a similar travel service to phone ahead and get a decent price on your room.

We discovered that it’s a student city, which may have explained the summertime desertion. Perhaps it’s vibrant in term time?

Tuscany in general

I can see why people fall in love with this area. It can be cheap, but the combination of good weather, good food, friendly people and varied landscape make it irresistable. Throw in pretty villages and girls and you have a region that begs to be explored. Sedately.

Watch out for travelling packs of Americans and middle-class English retirees who may sniff at you getting noisily drunk in their unspoilt bit of the country.

Lucca

I’d never even heard of this town before coming to Italy, but a barman recommended it to us… so why not? And it’s great! Best bet is to park in one of the reasonably priced car parks outside the old town then take a cycle to travel around the town – either hired or, as with some car parks, take a courtesy bike. You can also cycle around the city walls. Great little place, though packed with tourists so it can end up a little expensive and tiresome – but it’s not as packed or overpriced as other cities. And anyway, if there are tourists, there are facilities….

Pisa

If you approach the famous tower from the right angle it looks perfectly straight. Which could be a disappointment if that’s all you came to see. It was British engineers who stopped it falling over, apparently, and for a moment you might think they did too good a job. The plaza the tower is in (it’s the campanile for the Duomo) is very beautiful and although the tower is the reason people come, it’s a little bit more than just that. However, it’s also true that few people explore the rest of this city. We didn’t either. I feel a little guilty.

San Gimignano

This little gem of a town has a lot going for it and must have been something of a medieval Manhattan. It’s very pretty, full of towers, and has an awful lot of tourists. Lacked the charm of Lucca, but well worth a visit.

San Miniato

We stumbled upon this very pretty and friendly little town and we asked in an osteria for a room. It was at this point we learned that an osteria is just a type of restaurant. But this is Italy so phone calls were made by the proprietors and before we knew it we were checking in at a charming little B&B in the town centre. Anna makes a wonderful host – but she doesn’t speak a word of English, so take your time with bookings.

Siena

We accidentally turned up on the day of the Palio trials. The Palio is a crazy bare back horse race in the main square of the town – quite possibly the most ancient and yet least professional horse race in the world. Shame we missed anything exciting, but the main square is beautiful and ancient.

Florence (Firenza)

Florence is beautiful but, for me at least, not something that I found as beautiful as expected. What it is good for is art galleries. You can see some incredibly famous artworks in the city’s art galleries.

Genoa (Genova)

Don’t bother! Never seen quite such an ugly mass of concrete building. There are beautiful parts, of course, like most Italian cities, but they’re not necessarily easy to find. The guides say the city has a ‘gritty realism’ which I always think is travel guide speak for “you’ll be lucky not to get mugged.”

But on the whole – what a great country!

Driving in Italy

Driving in this country is actually a great experience. The road surfaces are smooth, the drivers skilled, and the weather generally good.

But there are things to beware of.

Speed bumps appear to have been randomly placed on the autostrada. Some people claim it’s down to subsidence or lorry damage, but I think it’s just to keep you awake.

The distance and direction markers towards towns and cities were the inspiration for some of Heisenberg’s greatest work. You might see that your town is 25km away. The next sign, 1km down the road, will say 20km. Then it’ll revert to 25km and you may well conclude that you’re going round in circles. Or getting closer, because as you continue the next sign will say you’re 18km away. The actual distance may be less. Or more.

If you park in the wrong place you’ll get a ticket, but working out how to pay isn’t simple so I’m ignoring my ticket and waiting to see what happens. Anyway, parking places are colour coded – white means you can park there freely, except when the signs say you can’t, yellow means you can park there freely except when the signs say you can’t and blue means…. well you get the idea. I think blue is pay, white is free, and yellow is residents but the reality is that you need to check as different towns have different rules.

Italian Food, In Italy

I’m a vegetable, as many of you know, so obviously can’t eat meat. Italy at least has a good range of vegetarian food available so there’s no need to spend too much time scrutineering the menus.

The food itself range from great to mediocre but there was nothing so amazing that I’m going to make a special mention. I did enjoy the white truffle and artichoke tagliateli I had in Verona – something I’ve never had before and which was delicious.

Next Time

It’ll be Rome and the south. And more slowly – the furious pace we set meant we covered a lot of ground, but it was tiring sometimes. Still… we had a great time.

Gin Tonic in Lima Central

It was Douglas Adams that suggested that wherever you are in the universe, asking for something that sounds like “Gin and Tonic” will usually give you the same drink. Of course I’ve only been able to test this theory on Earth, but so far it had proven unbreakable. So in a non touristy town in Taiwan a “shintoniic” sound gave me a drink made from gin… and tonic. But if it can be broken, the Peruvians can break it….

Last night our request for two “GeenToneecs”, as listed on the menu, provoked an explosion of confusion with the staff at “Ellens House”, a bar round the corner from our hotel. After a few minutes two large glasses, with about 250ml of vodka arrived.

We pointed out the problem… that a G&T usually has gin in it. And tonic. The glasses were taken away, four bar staff held a conference, and they returned with… two glasses of vodka with a dash of sparkling mineral water. I took a gulp and my taste buds immediately caught fire. Another return… this prompted more confusion and they came back to say they were just nipping to the shops for a bottle of “agua tonica”. Ok… they were getting the idea. And then we got what I still think was vodka, with a dash of sparkling mineral water… and a dash of tonic. We gave up. Angelique had also failed to drink her “Baylez”… a cheap and eye watering version of Baileys.

Peruvian service is often like this. They do their best, bless ’em, but sometimes they’re caught out by their own menus. They then utilise a Just In Time system, as popularised in Japanese factories. This means having stock arrive just in time for manufacture – so saving on inventory costs and storage space. But for restaurants that just means that your entrée may well arrive after your main course because some of the ingredients involved sending a member of staff to the market with a shopping list in his hand. Still, the food at these restaurants is often surprisingly tasty – just don’t arrive hungry….

Peruvian Food

Peruvian food can be quite easily categorised into the following sections:

Salty and meaty.
Egg based.
Dangerous.
Salty and fishy.
Scary.
Salty and vegetarian.
Touristic.

Lomo Saltado is one of the classic dishes – fried and salted beef, served in a big pile with gravy, vegetables and chips – all mixed together. There may be some salad on the side.
Dangerous food can be summed up as pretty much anything raw.
Scary is roasted guinea pig – poor little thing has it’s claws on show still and it just looks wrong. Heart kebabs are also a bit offputting.
Touristic is largely edible, but expensive. It revolves mostly around pizza and pasta, but it’s not bad.

There´s a surprising number of vegetarian restaurants and they vary in quality. There’s a chain called Govinda run by Hare Krishnas and although the food is ok (and salty) the service was slow and the atmosphere utterly non existent. We’ve resisted trying another branch. Other vegetarian restaurants, especially in Cusco, can be excellent.

Breakfasts are a barely understood concept. A fried egg, a couple of rolls of bread and some jam, along with juice and tea or coffee and that’s about it. Sometimes you need more to set you up for the day.

Machu Picchu

This place is the jewel in the South American tourist crown. An abandoned town at the top of a mountain that never got destroyed by the colonials – partly it seems because it just wasn’t all that important and a lot because of its rather inaccesible location.

I won’t bore on about the history of this place, but instead I’ll say that it’s one of the most beautiful locations in the world. Vertiginous too – if you’re not keen on heights you won’t want to get too near the edges of the town. It gets worse if, like us, you decide to climb Huanay Picchu (I think that’s the name, I’m not checking notes right now) which is the peak you always see in front of Macchu Picchu in the pictures. For this you have to take a quite frankly dangerous path (especially if itÂ´s been raining) up the side of a very steep mountain. Quite often all you can see is a one mile drop to the bottom of the valley. I clung on and did my best in spite of my well known fear of heights. In the end though I saw an alarming enough section to refuse to move any further and simply sat down and waited.

But even where we reached was well worth the effort. IÂ´m soon going to be able to upload pictures to the gallery as I should have more time. First though I’m off to the Crovetto’s beach house for a few days of relaxation after the rest of the troupe disappear. Fiona and Renaud have already got back to Paris, with Soren and Kitt off to Denmark tonight and Angelique, Francois and Romana all flying out tomorrow. So the rest of my travels will be solo :o( The upside I suppose is that IÂ´ll be able to insist on a vegetarian restaurant every night so nutrition might improve a little ;o)

I probably wonÂ´t be able to post again until next week… so donÂ´t be too alarmed if it goes quiet!

I’ll say one more thing though – although I’ve thoroughly enjoyed this trip so far a little part of me is missing the home comforts – familiar food, no hawkers constantly trying to sell me things (I reached the point of muttering in English to one kid “Do I look like the kind of f*cking person who wants to buy a doll?” He didn’t understand.)

Safety when travelling

A lot of travellers worry about being robbed, kidnapped, raped, or jailed for trumped up drugs charges.

But they get on a knackered bus, driven by a coca leaf chewing driver for 12hrs at a stretch, along the most dangerous roads in the world, without a second thought. I´m pretty certain more travellers die in road accidents than any other way out here. Our driver for Chiway (Chivay) from Arequipa was, I´m sure, Fangio´s long lost and suspiciously young twin brother. But we got home quicker than anyone else so there´s always an upside.

In a week I´ll be saying goodbye to the rest of the group and striking out alone. Can´t say I´m looking forward to that moment, but it´ll also be nice to set my own pace and explore some more awkward places. Or just lounge for a week or two at a beach resort in Chile I´ve heard of. We’ll see….

Tomorrow is another day of Cusco – quite the most beautiful town I´ve seen. Full of a mix of colonial and Inca architecture, though the colonials pretty much finished off the Incan work. The day after is Macchu Pichu, or Machu Picchu – I can never remember the right spelling. It´s famously amazing, and we hoped to trek to it but the bad weather we´ve experienced here has, at times, turned the streets into rivers. Not good up a mountain so we´ll wimp out and take the train.

The Incan stonework is something to admire – close fitting stones, without cement, lock together and have survived many earthquakes. The foundations of many colonial buildings are Incan and you can still see the fine work. You literally can´t slide a cigarette paper between the stones. How they did it so well is a bit of a mystery. It´s a shame that the Conquistadors destroyed the indiginous culture so thoroughly. Had they not been quite so obsessed by shiny things Europe´s effect on South America would still be dramatic – we brought with us diseases as well as war, and this combination elicited one of the great holocausts in history, killing perhaps up to 90% of the native people according to some sources. But whichever way you look at it, we weren´t a positive factor here.

On top of t’world!

This is a complete re-write of the original, hurried, posting which failed to cover any detail about the Colca Canyon or Arequipa… or anywhere much that had passed between postings. I hadn’t realised I’d been so scarce with information.

Arriving High at Arequipa

We took what could only be described as a mobile sauna masquerading as a long-distance bus. We travelled from Nazca to Arequipa like this – sweltering on a bus that had very late. So after a long night of this ten hour ride along bumpy, twisty roads, we arrived at our first high altitude destination – the city of Arequipa.

It’s a classic, colonial city, and after Pisco and Paracas, and a lot of Lima’s less smart districts it came across as a clean and vibrant city. There are parts which are dangerous but as was the case on all of this journey – we never saw anything especially worrying to people who live in cities like Liverpool and Paris. Sadly the sky was quite cloudy so we never got a good view of the massive volcanoes like Misti and Chachani. This was a shame as they provide a stunning backdrop.

One of the highlights of Arequipa has to be the Monastario de Santa Catalina de Siena – actually a nunnery, it occupies a whole block of the city centre and was closed to outsiders for 400 years. Inside the architecture reminds you of cities in the south of Spain – colourful, fresh and simple. You can spend a happy afternoon exploring all the rooms, kitchens and chapels – seeing how life was lived here by the nuns for hundreds of years. A small number of nuns (around 20-30 it would seem) still live within the walls, but hidden away from the tourists.

The Colca Canyon and Condor Watching

From here we travelled to Chiway (Chivay) to see the Colca Canyon. This journey, although easier today than ever, is still rather gruelling – taking hours, half of it on unsealed roads and crossing a mountain pass at 4900mt. You soon start to feel the altitude and some members of the group suffered a little – Kitt in particular becoming ill enough to warrant a visit to the hospital. Once at Chiway you feel like you’ve arrived at a frontier town – the roads are mostly dirt, there are just a few cars and horses around, and the men and women look rugged.

At one point on the route we stopped at a café for some mate de coca (coca tea) and a break from the bus. Here a few kids were hanging around outside. I went to take a picture of one sweet girl (pictured above) and she promptly held her hand out and demanded “un sol!” I guess the money’s handy, though I hope that to earn this the children aren’t missing out on schooling.

Because of the tourist traffic through Chiway, we found that the food and facilities weren’t so bad for somewhere so remote. Ok, our showers were… shall we say rustic, but the rooms were clean and adequate and service friendly. The mobile phone didn’t work, but there were two internet cafés for those who’d like to recreate what the internet was like before broadband came along – the connection was sloooow. But it did work so I was happily in touch.

In the evening we ate pizza and danced away with a local group. I’ve got vivid memories of being grabbed by one of the local girls for the traditional dance and I could tell I had little chance of refusing. As I put my hand on her waist I realised that she was pure muscle. They build girls for strength up in the mountains. One of the dances they did was slightly bizarre, however, and appeared to revolve around domestic violence. Couldn’t quite follow that one.
Drank lots of pisco sour too. Hmmmmm….

The next morning we were dragged out at some ungodly hour. I’m not quite sure what time now, perhaps 5:30am, in order to wind our way up the Colca Canyon towards the spot where we hoped to watch condors soaring.

And lo – it was good. A little touristy – all the villages which mostly are sleepy and restful wake up for the visitors, putting on traditional dances and the like in order to raise precious pennies which help educate the kids and restore churches. I actually feel that compared to similar towns in Chile they’re not doing quite so well here. There are plenty of tourists, but not a huge economy generated by them so far as I can see. But they’re definitely doing better than they otherwise might….

As time passed we eventually arrived at the point where we might see some condors. And… nothing… it wasn’t the season. Most would be at the Islas Balestas, it seemed, feeding on the placentas of newly born seals. Damn… we’d just been there! Didn’t see condors or placentas though.

Disheartened we started to amble a little, look at the tourist tat, and consider heading back to the bus when we heard an “ooooh” from other tourists. As one, hundreds of tourists headed straight to the main groups and looked out. And there she was… one solitary condor! Then another… and another! As we stood at the top of the terrifying canyon (the deepest in the world) we watched as the condors arrived. They really are magnificent birds to watch as they soar effortlessly between the walls of the canyon in search of carrion. And they’re huge… so when they pass closely you get a sense of their grace… and ugliness. Man! When you get close they’re ugly… but from more than about 100ft they’re beautiful. Like some girls I’ve met, I suppose.

After another day in Arequipa our next stop would be Puno and Lake Titicaca – the highest navigable lake in the world.

Sand surfing in Huacachina

Would have liked to, but the thought of falling in sand and filling every nook and cranny of my body with sand just didn´t appeal!

So instead we climbed up to the top of the biggest dune we could see, watched the sunset, and then ran down using these comedy strides of about six feet. And got sand filling every nook and cranny of my body. Ah well.

The oasis at Huacachina is a lovely spot… but somehow felt a little sad. It was hard to put a finger on it – the rubbish at the bottom of the sand dune we climbed, perhaps, or the absolute lack of life around the oasis itself in the evening. The place we stayed had a nice vibe and the best chips I found in South America, but the rooms were the dirtiest and most bug infested of the trip. I never realised how much a tiny ant could bite until I disturbed some. This prompted my usual, rational response to bugs that bite me… KILL! KILL! KILL! Yes – my usual pacifist response disappears after I experience pain.

It´s weird coming from Europe. I thought parts of spain looked like a desert, but in comparison…. it´s nothing. In Paracas it rains 1.5mm a year. In the desert we´re in now it´s something like once every decade.

Anyway, for now it´s time for beer… tara!

The road to Paracas

And now we find ourselves in Paracas – a four hour bus ride from Lima. It’s a tiny fishing village with a lot of restaurants good naturedly touting for business on the promenade, a small beach, a few hostels and a feeling of chaotic charm. It’s clearly poor as hell, but everyone seems happy too.

This internet shop appears to be run by a fat woman who eats a lot of burgeresque sandwiches and her eight year old son who wields a notepad with impressive precision.

Jon and Kath – you want to know about the wimmin?

Short and stout, mostly! Seems like the latino lovelies that everyone expect are mostly to be found elsewhere – european settlement of Peru was limited, unlike some other parts. Of course, within the group I’m travelling with the girls are all lovely, but to say any more would be indiscreet :o)

Oh – something I’d like to say… there’s less litter on the streets in this third world country than most towns in the UK, France or Spain. Kinda depressing in a way.

Tomorrow it’s the Islas Ballestas, a nature reserve, by boat before packing up and moving on to Ica. Or Nazca. I’m not entirely sure – six out of eight of the group speak fluent French, and the consequence is that I miss stuff. But going with the flow’s good. I’m chilling.

Del Carajo

At the end of the night a few of us were still ready to party. The reception went from 2pm to 11pm and to be honest… that’s not enough when you have the wind in your sails. Myself and Romana had wondered off from the group to investigate another party in the military base that sounded fun, but like our own, without tickets you weren’t getting anywhere close. Society do’s are like that in Peru.

Carlos, Geraldine’s brother said he’d meet us at Del Carajo. Of course he was steaming by this point, but seemed keen. We didn’t realise he was also meeting another bunch at a restaurant elsewhere, and no doubt another group at a third venue. He didn’t show up at any – I don’t think his wife was having any of it!

And one of those optimistic taxis later we found ourselves in the middle of an obviously poor district – a nearby bar pounding out the music, armed guards, and dire warnings from the taxi driver not to go wandering around looking for taxis – which given we were still in wedding gear was sound advice in most locations. At 25soles each to get in it was damn pricey by Peruvian standards.

What we didn’t reckon on was the ritualised humiliation that was going to happen. We expected a bar – we got a big show. Part of which involved all tourists being asked to step forward. And made to dance. Realising this, Romana – who holds no truck with peer pressure – walked away from the stage and sat back down. I was alone. But I was going through with this…. My turn came up… And I danced like a white man. To rap music, for some reason, which as far as i could tell was taking the mick but in a relatively nice way. I hoped. But I was going to go along with it.

But Romana wasn’t getting off lightly – as I sat down I spotted her being dragged up to the front. Frankly I think the Peruvians were surprised that a Polish girl could do a better job of salsa and hip thrusting than the Brazilian that had been before. We didn’t need to buy any more beer after that and suddenly had a lot of new friends.