Blog

Van Gogh and Provence

I wrote this as I lay and take in the views of the cypress trees nearby. The same cypress trees that so often inspired Vincent Van Gogh during his stay in 1889.

And when I say stay, his time in the south of France weren’t his happiest moments. After a period in Arles, where his mental health declined, he admitted himself to the nearby asylum, here in St Remy de Provence. You may remember that he cut his own ear off after an argument with his friend, Gaughin. 

In the year that he was in the asylum at St Remy he produced over 150 paintings. One of his most productive periods. And one of his last. Leaving St Remy in May of 1890, he had shot and killed himself in November of the same year.

Swapping the rails for the road

We were in much better spirits as we headed by train from Dijon, via Avignon to pick up a hire car, and into Provence. This part of France is not served well by train so car was our only option. A hefty chunk from our travel budget that almost brought tears to my eyes. Seeing we had a Fiat 500 cheered me up immensely. My second time in a Fiat 500, although my first time was in one of the original, tiny cars, as I drove us both around Florence.

Victoria took the wheel today and not long after leaving Avignon we were rolling into St Remy de Provence. With a population of under 10,000, St Remy sits in the northern Alpilles, in southern France. The birthplace of Nostrodamus, St Remy is also where Princess Caroline of Monaco lived for several years with her children following the death of her second husband.

It is immediately easy to see what would draw people here. A small town of narrow cobbled streets, the sun glancing between the buildings, lighting up small piazzas of people chatting and sipping the famous Provence rose wine. Despite being a place that attracts tourists, it somehow manages to keep its rather sleepy feeling. We sat in the shade of a large tree and ordered two cold drinks.

As we had the luxury of a car we chose to stay some 10 minutes from St Remy, opting for a bed and breakfast in a converted farmhouse. We were spending two nights in the very small village of Maillane. A village of three restaurants and one wine bar. Our bed and breakfast had a small swimming pool and with the temperature in Southern France increasing, it was a welcome relief to go for a cooling dip.

Baux-de-Provence

Having the car afforded us the luxury of being able to go and explore places. One such place was Baux-de-Provence. Somewhere I did not know about and was recommended by Chris at the bed and breakfast. Ten minutes drive, a rather precarious mountainous drive, had us in Baux. And straight away, it grabs you. The dramatic landscape, towering over the village.

With a permanent population of under 400, the tourists easily outnumbered the locals. And it is easy to see what draws the tourists in. A castle that appears to merge with the mountain that it climbs out of. And a village that dates back to the Iron Ages.

A reminder about how precious life is

Chatting with the owner of the B&B, Chris, was a reminder of why we were on this trip of a lifetime. Chris is originally from Belgium, and often spent his holidays down in this part of the world. Ten years ago he suffered a life threatening illness, and spent over a year in hospital. When recovering he realised he had spent his life trying to do too much and wanted to enjoy his life more. So he packed up, moved to southern France, and bought the farmhouse that he now runs as a B&B.

Anyone for Cassoulet?

Two nights of relaxation, and eating with the locals, we were on the move again. Another place neither of us had been to. And I am still not sure I had heard of Carcassonne until recently. For those of you more familiar with it you will know how beautiful the castle and the old fortified cité is. The medieval fortress dates back to Gallo-Roman times and was restored in 1853.

Both evenings in Carcassonne were spent exploring the old city and the castle, roaming amongst the ramparts and strolling the narrow alleyways. Looking for the regional dish I discovered the cassoulet. A dish of duck confit and Toulouse sausage. It is delicious, and very popular.

I am a bit of a geek when it comes to the Camino de Santiago, and one day I know I will do a pilgrimage of my own. I was thrilled to learn that one of the routes to Santiago de Compostela, where all the walks conclude in the cathedral there, actually starts right here, in Carcassonne.

Another capital of wine?

But today, I wasn’t walking. We were dropping the Fiat 500 at Carcassonne train station, and we were destined for the wine capital of France, Bordeaux. Has anybody spotted a theme of our tour through France?

Bordeaux wines are known the world over. It was the Romans that introduced the first vines and Bordeaux has been synonymous with wine ever since. Wanting to promote French wine to the world, Napoleon III insisted on a classification at the 1855 Exposition Universelle de Paris. A classification that has remained in place since. Ranking the wines according to a chateau’s reputation, in order of “cru”, first through to fifth. 

Visiting the Medoc wine region

This, and many other interesting facts about the Bordeaux wine industry we learned on our wine tour to the Medoc region. A region that only produces red wine, we spent a half day exploring both the Château Marquis de Terme and Château Siran. The amount of rules and regulations that wine growers in Bordeaux need to adhere to are mind boggling. We learnt that vineyards are not allowed to irrigate the vines. With a dry summer like we have just had I do wonder how the vintage will turn out.

Falling in love with Bordeaux

Bordeaux is another of those cities that caught me completely by surprise. I fell in love with it. Such a beautiful river front, lined with grand mansions. Another city firmly on the Camino de Santiago. And a nightlife that seems to go for the whole day. Stumbling across square after square, all packed with people enjoying coffee, beer, wine, and plenty of great food. Our three days passed by so quick that I just wanted to press the pause button.

Time to say Au Revoir

However, in life, there is no pause button. We were heading out in the morning. And changing countries. Since leaving Australia, we now had country number eight in our sights. This would be the 28th new bed since we left Perth. I know. It is exhausting. But, I wouldn’t change a thing. 

We head to Spain tomorrow, and somewhere I have wanted to go long before I saw Anthony Bourdain visit. Without a car, or a train ticket, we were taking our first bus ride. Four hours and we will be in San Sebastian, in the Basque country is our next stop.

Au revoir, and hola!

Riding the rails

It has been suggested in some circles that I could give Michael Portillo and his Bradshaw’s guide a run for his money. With all the trains we have taken since leaving Amsterdam, I think they could be on to something. 

The trains in Europe are proving to be highly efficient, reliable, and somewhat expensive. Not the budget travel we expected. That said, we are about to embark on a different way of crossing Europe. More on that further down the track, pardon the pun. 

For today, we wrap up our fabulous few days in Epernay and again head to somewhere that neither of us has been to. And as such, a place we knew very little about. Other than they are famous for mustard. It turns out, there is a lot more to Dijon than its famous condiment. 

Some 3 hours and 25 minutes after leaving Epernay, with two train changes, we rolled into Dijon. Dijon has a population of around 125,000. A population that revels in a city centre that has been shorn of cars, become pedestrianised, and like cities all over the world, re-embraced trams. The city sits in the Burgundy region. The wine buffs amongst you may have just started to take notice, at the mention of Burgundy, one of THE wine regions of the world. 

Much of the architecture in Dijon remains as it was in mediaeval times. Times of the Dukes of Burgundy. Grand hotels (of the French type, which were in fact, large homes), large imposing buildings that now house such treasures of the Museum of Fine Arts, and the obligatory Notre Dame cathedral. It is said that scholars of mediaeval architecture make a pilgrimage to Dijon to study the immaculately kept buildings. I can see why.

The golden glow of Dijon

There is a golden glow to Dijon that is very appealing. From the tiled floor, to the buildings that crowd around the busy squares, packed with bars, and restaurants. As with everywhere we have been in France, regardless of the day of the week, the bars and restaurants are full and bustling. I read a lot about the “cost of living crisis”. A crisis that has not reached these shores, it would seem. Also golden, is one of the icons of the city, the owl that adorns the 13th century church of Notre Dame. Rubbing it with your left hand, we did, is supposed to bring luck. We are still waiting.

Trying out the local bed and breakfasts

For our accommodation, we booked our first Chambres d’Hotes. Bed and breakfasts that proliferate across France. We had three nights in a ground floor apartment of an old mansion. Our double bed was overlooked by a cadre of rather scary looking portraits. I was worried they may come to life at night.

Having fun with the language

Upon arrival at the accommodation, we were greeted by Brigitte. “Bonjour,” said I. “Je m’appelle, Fran.”

“Brigitte,” came the reply, quickly followed by a volley of French. 

“Ah, je ne parle pas français,” I said. 

Brigitte shrugged, and in another volley of French, told me she didn’t speak English. 

What followed was Brigitte checking us in, showing us around the apartment, and giving us lots of information. Nothing about the scary portraits! It was like a hurricane had just blown in. Victoria’s face was a picture. Like a rabbit in the headlights. I picked up a few words here and there. Nodded a lot. And kept saying “Oui”. What I was agreeing to I suppose we will never know. 

When we were alone we just looked at each other, and laughed. What just happened, we asked each other? 

Beaume, the real wine capital of Burgundy

Having three days in Dijon afforded us the opportunity for a day trip, so we jumped on to a train to Beaune. Described as the capital of the Burgundy wine region, (wine buff alert), it was a 30 minutes train ride away. Surrounded by villages producing some of the world’s best wines. Any Marsannay, or Meursault fans out there?

Strolling around the ramparts of the old walls I imagined what it must have been like in the prehistoric times, or as it prospered under the Romans. It probably wouldn’t have looked much different. The well preserved, fortified town is surrounded by hills that have vines clinging to them. The small town is a wonder of old cobbled streets and many squares that make a perfect place for lunch and a glass of that famous Burgundy wine.

Leaving for Lyon

Dijon and the Burgundy region proved to be a really enjoyable stay. One of our favourites so far. But like all travellers, we had to keep moving. We were heading south to Lyon. Somewhere I only knew about through the local football team, Olympique Lyonnais playing in the Champions League. 

Discovering old Lyon

And yes, there is a lot more to Lyon than their football team. We based ourselves in the presqu’ile area. The peninsular between the two rivers of the Saône and the Rhône. We had two great days that were spent exploring the city and getting lost in the old, narrow cobbled streets of Vieux Lyon, the old town. Of particular interest were the murals that Lyon has become famous for. We visited two of the most popular ones and were both blown away by how impressive they are.

Riding the funicular up Fourviere

Not far from the murals, holding a commanding position on the Fourviere hill high above Lyon is the, you guessed it, Notre Dame cathedral. One of the most impressive we have seen. Described as a wedding cake, it perches at the end of the funicular line from the old town. Wandering down the hill from the cathedral we stumbled across the Gallo-Roman ruins. Sat proudly in the centre is the amphitheatre, one of the oldest in all of Gaul. 

Time to head back to the station

Roman ruins. One of the best Notre Dames we have seen. And pizzas to rival the best of Naples were still not enough to put the brakes on our travels. As the third day dawned, we again packed up our bags, and headed to the train station. Not a station that would impress Michael Portillo but we were here for the 10.36am train to Avignon, and onwards to the Provence region.

Until the next time, santé

Heading in to France at Lille

I write this as I reflect on what has been a whirlwind few weeks. I am not sure where the time has gone since a) we left home in Perth, and b) since we left family and friends in the UK.

I had promised you that I would write and post shorter, more frequent blogs. My bad. In between exploring new cities, towns, and villages, I have not found time to sit down and compose my thoughts. A bit of downtime, a cold Kronenburg 1664, and a strong wifi connection has me once again sitting at the laptop.

Lille and the old town

We have spent our time since we last spoke, exploring the best of the wine regions, east of Paris. Leaving Belgium we entered France by train, disembarking in Lille at the Gare Lille Flandres. We weren’t in Lille for the wine, but for the culture. The old town is a delight and we had a couple of fabulous days exploring. Lille wasn’t on our radar when back in Australia planning this trip, so thank you Colin for the recommendation. 

It was in Lille that we had our first taste of steak in France. Ordering “saignant”, bloody, we both had the onglet, a speciality of the house. Steak cooked to perfection, with a mountain of frites. Paired with a local red wine, this was the perfect evening.

Talking of radars, we didn’t have much on when we left home in Perth back in mid June. As with the whole trip so far, we are making it up as we go along. As of the last count, since leaving home in Perth, we are up to country number seven. With our trusty guide book, and a sense of adventure, we look at places that may be good to visit, and move on. Leaving Lille, and looking at the map, the answer was obvious. 

Anyone for Champagne?

The Champagne region is famous for, well, champagne. As you will know, there are many pretenders, including Prosecco from Italy, and Cava from Spain, but there is only one champagne. A protected region, only sparkling wine made from grapes grown in Champagne can carry the prestigious moniker. 

Reims was our first port of call. The largest town in the Champagne region. With a population of 184,000 (ish) it keeps its small town feel. The streets surrounding the centre ville are clustered with champagne history. Not to mention the many champagne houses (read mansions) that line the streets. We passed Krug, Veuve Clicquot, and Louis Roederer on one short evening stroll.

It was in Reims that we had our first champagne tour. Booked into the 14.30 tour at GH Mumm. Walking into the air conditioned reception, who would have thought that there are 25kms of tunnels under our very feet?

The Caves of GH Mumm

It was into these tunnels, caves in official parlance, we all walked, following the very informative guide who walked us through the history of this illustrious champagne house. Set up by German brothers (hence the non-French sounding name) in 1827, GH Mumm now produces over 8 million bottles a year, and exports all around the world. The “cordon rouge”, red slash of colour is now recognisable in all corners of the globe. I know the world is round, but you know what I mean!

If you can’t spend all your time in champagne houses in Reims, then the next best place to be is the Notre Dame cathedral. Completed in the 14th century, “Our Lady of Reims” cathedral has to be seen to be believed. It is huge. Breathtakingly large. The scale of the place makes one wonder how clever people must have been, in the 14th century, to construct a place of such magnificence. What tools did they use? How did they get to such heights? How did they move such large pieces of stone? The mind boggles.

Epernay, Champagne Capital of the World

Maybe a glass of champagne will help? And after Reims, where do you head? You move to Epernay, of course. Only separated by 29 kilometres, Epernay truly is the capital of the Champagne region. Where else do you have a street called, “Avenue de Champagne”? Described by Sir Winston Churchill as the “most drinkable address in the whole world.” I wouldn’t disagree.

Strolling along the Avenue de Champagne you pass Perrier Jouet, Pol Roger, Moet and Chandon, Mercier, De Castellane, and many others. Champagne you may never have heard of. Produced and sold locally, but with all the quality of the big names you see in your local bars and restaurants. For our next tour of a champagne house, we were going classic.

Moet (pronounced with a hard “t’ as I am sure you all know) and Chandon has been in Epernay since 1743. Originally just Moet, under the control of a family of Dutch origin (hence the hard “t”) brothers, the Chandon was added in 1833 when a brother in law joined the company. A lot has happened in the intervening years and over the next hour and a half we got to hear about it, as we toured the rather chilly cellars.

Moet and Chandon alone has over 28 kilometres of underground tunnels beneath Epernay, surpassing even GH Mumm in Reims. Walking through them you get a sense of the scale of the operation. Cellar after cellar is stocked full of thousands of bottles of champagne. We even got to see some of the workers down there as it is a working production site. As with all good tours, this one ended with us getting to sample the goods. This time we got both a classic, and a rose champagne. Sante.

The Food of France

Drinking is half of the equation. Eating, is the other. And we have had some great food whilst crossing through France. Trying to eat the local dishes, I have had beef bourguignon, Flemish stew, and SO MANY baguettes. I also wanted to try the steak of the day in one town but Mrs C drew the line at me eating horse. Yes, cheval is still very popular in restaurants across France. Maybe I will order it when she isn’t looking. I am very intrigued.

Where next for us?

If you are following our journey through our daily Instagram photos (explore_with_fran), you will know that we are ahead of the blog. By a few towns and cities. For the rest of you, with no idea where we have been so far, watch out for the next update where we will discover amazing Dijon, be very pleasantly surprised by Lyon, and head into the south of France, discovering a little about Vincent Van Gogh.

A bientot!

Water, water, everywhere

When you discover that Amsterdam has more canals than Venice, you are not surprised when you find a gem around every corner. Designated a world heritage site, the seventeenth century canal ring around the city of Amsterdam was designed for a specific reason. 

Amsterdam was founded around 1250, with the building of the Dam, in the Amstel river, that gives it its name. In the golden age of the seventeenth century, more canals were built for the burgeoning world trade, of which Amsterdam was at the heart. The canals allowed for the thousands of small barges that carried goods to and from the various parts of the trading world.

On Leaving the UK

We arrived in Amsterdam after spending the best part of six weeks touring the UK. Catching up with family after the COVID experience everyone has had was wonderful. And we chose a longer time period just for this reason. Well, it wasn’t totally altruistic. We also wanted to have time to explore the UK as tourists ourselves. We were fortunate enough to have visited London and the Cotswolds as I have previously written about. 

Leaving the UK the only plan we had was a flight to Amsterdam. If COVID has taught us all anything, besides greater cleanliness, is that long term plans are about as much use as the paper you write them on. Our “plan” was to get into Europe and then avoid airports as much as possible, using the excellent network of trains that criss-cross mainland Europe. 

Amsterdam, Said with a Knowing Wink

Amsterdam comes with a certain reputation. Mention the city and there are a number of responses. Predictably, there will be smirks and knowing nods, pertaining to the city’s famous red light district. Now a tourist site in its own right it does have to be seen to be believed. It brings a whole new meaning to the phrase, “window shopping”.

There is also the side of Amsterdam that could keep you on a permanent high. Brown cafes and coffee shops are so called to distinguish between espresso houses. The latter where the only high you will experience is due to the caffeine. So, what would you go to a “coffee shop” for? Whilst not strictly legal, the use of cannabis and marijuana is permitted in these establishments. Smoking not your thing? Try the space muffins. If you want to lose a night of your travels!

Cruising the canals of Amsterdam

The water is the best place to see Amsterdam from. The canal cruise we took allowed us perfect views of the amazing architecture of the city. Gliding through the canals you get a sense of the scale of the city, and a thought of how much work must have gone into the creation of all those waterways. 

Our days were spent wandering the streets. Breakfasting by the canals. Sipping early evening drinks in one of the many bustling squares. And marvelling at how many cyclists there are. When someone tells you Amsterdam takes cyclists seriously, they are not kidding. Dedicated bike lanes separated from the traffic. No mandated helmet laws. Large bike parking lots. This is a city that does cycling right. 

Three days later we were back at Amsterdam Central train station, boarding a train to Belgium. This is how easy travel is within the Schengen area, the visa free zone within the EU. Why anybody would want to purposefully opt out of this arrangement is beyond my comprehension, but this blog is not about politics.

Brussels and Bruges

It is about travel, and we were travelling to the beautiful city of Brussels. The Grand Place, or Grote Markt, has to be seen to be believed. A vast open square, with gargantuan gothic buildings encircling it. Stand, stare, and wonder how these magnificent creations survived the World wars. We sat at a pavement cafe, ordered cold beers, and took a few moments to savour the experience.  We were lucky enough to catch the last days of the market square floor being covered with a decorative flower arrangement. A very impressive sight and one that increased the crowds.

Much like Amsterdam, Brussels has a lot to keep tourists happy. Plentiful food and drink, with some of the greatest beers in the world. The monks certainly knew how to brew. On the food front, I couldn’t go past a bowl of moules and frites, finished off with a gaufre (waffle), freshly made and drenched in chocolate, strawberries, and cream. Lucky that we were doing around 30,000 steps each day. Our legs were crying out for rest but our bellies were thankful for the exercise.

Historic Bruges

A short one hour train ride from Brussels, Bruges is the ideal day trip. Walking the one kilometer from the train station to the centre ville, you immediately start getting a sense of Bruges. Small, old buildings on cobbled streets, leading you to the main square, dominated by the 13th century belfry. The belfry, and Bruges historical centre are World Unesco Heritage sites.

And with such beauty comes the price that places all over the world are once again having to struggle with. Inordinate amounts of tourists. Figures from 2019 show that almost 9 million a year visit this small town. The local mayor described Bruges as becoming “like Disneyland”, and that “it was time to pull up the drawbridge”.

Whilst we are undeniably part of the problem, as we are two of the multitudes that march every hour from Bruges train station into the centre of town, I don’t know what the answer is. Tourism brings in lots of cash and jobs for locals into the economy. I suppose the question is, where is the tipping point?

On to the travel budget?

Whilst I am on the subject of food I know that a few of you have been specifically waiting for us to move to our “travel budget”. I can confirm that we are now tightening our belts and have even started having cheese sandwiches for lunch. I am sorry to report that these are not dry, but full of flavour and delicious. They go perfectly with a bottle of chilled water. Pizza by the slice is also very popular with Mrs C.

Onwards, to France, and the Champagne region

And the travel budget may need to be paused, ever so slightly, as our next destination is France. Starting in Lille for a few days we will then head in to Champagne, visiting the towns of Reims and Epernay. We have already booked a couple of tours of the champagne houses and their famous caves (cellars). Keep tuned for the next instalment.

Salut!

Is it too early for a cream tea? Said no one ever. A cream tea is the little sister to the traditional afternoon high tea. Something we are very partial to and a topic I have written about previously.

For the uninitiated, a cream tea involves two warm scones, preferably just from the oven, strawberry jam, and lashings of clotted cream. Now, here is the key point. Clotted cream. Not whipped. Clotted. Cream so thick it could be mistaken for ice cream. And a cream tea is not a cream tea without clotted cream. 

But why am I making such a fuss over the cream that comes with our scones? Because, despite having many, many high teas in Australia, I have yet to find one that does clotted cream. I mean, what is so difficult about clotting cream? In truth, I don’t know. Maybe I should investigate. There has to be some reason that “traditional” high teas in Australia are just not, well, all that traditional.

What is definitely traditional is the part of England called The Cotswolds. Situated about an hour from London, and three hours south of our native Yorkshire, The Cotswolds are deemed an “area of national beauty”. And walking around it is obvious why. Cottages dating back centuries. A pub reputed to be the oldest in England. Rolling green fields, hemmed in by dry stone walls. 

We recently spent a glorious three days exploring The Cotswolds.. And cream teas are something that quaint little tea rooms in The Cotswolds do well. Extremely well. 

With excellent cream teas, and so much history and beauty, I am left scratching my head as to why I have never visited The Cotswolds previously. I spent the first forty years of my life living in England, and saw much of the world. Ten years living in Australia and now I start exploring England. Better late than never. And what better place to start than the historic Barnsley House and Spa. Built in 1697, Barnsley House has been run as a hotel since 2003. 

We had two nights in room 5, up in the eaves of the main building. Carrying our bags up the flights of old wooden stairs, creaking with every step, you immediately start getting a sense of the place. Our room was huge. A vestibule. Large bedroom to the left. And a very impressive bathroom to the right. Complete with a sumptuous free standing bath. I had my afternoon already planned out. 

Downstairs in the hotel is the “Potager” restaurant, a word I later learned is French for “kitchen garden”. And wandering around the garden, I came to see where the name comes from. A garden replete with herbs and vegetables, no doubt destined for the kitchen. We had an excellent dinner in the restaurant, with Mrs C proclaiming that her lamb was the best she has ever had. I have to say, the steak I had was tremendous. 

Breakfast both mornings was also in the restaurant. Imagine my delight when we came down on the first morning and I saw that the menu included a “full English”. If you have ever visited England you will be familar with what a “full English” is. The fact that it is traditionally served with black pudding is an added bonus.  An acquired taste, black pudding is something I love and can’t get a good version of in Australia. Who would have thought something made predominantly with pigs blood could be so hard to come by?

By day three we had departed Barnsley House and checked in to the Wild Thyme and Honey, a boutique hotel in the tiny village of Ampney Crucis. Attached to the excellent Crown pub, we ended up debating whether to cancel our onward plans and stay longer. It really was that delightful. 

And if I thought I had hit the gastronomic highs at Barnsley House, they were just about to go into orbit. Dinner at the Crown pub was a “luxury fish pie” so good I decided that if I ever find myself on death row, which I sincerely hope I don’t, I now have a new “last supper”. Packed with all kinds of creatures from the sea, and a hard boiled egg squeezed in, and topped with Duchess potatoes, this fish pie for one could have fed a family. It fed me, and I just about managed to roll out of the restaurant.

The rolling had changed to walking by the morning and we spent our final hours exploring the tiny village. As with our whole stay in the Cotswolds I was blown away by the houses, the cottages, and the overall look of the area. Never has the word, “wow”, been so overused.

It may have taken me 50 years to finally visit the Cotswolds. I will not be waiting quite so long next time. 

When we last chatted, I was telling you about the travel mishaps we had. The ones that had happened in the first week. And I am glad to report (as at the time of writing) that we have yet to suffer any new inconveniences.

What I can tell you is that we have made it to England. For the first time in three years. We took our time in getting here since leaving Perth. Taking the chance to call in at a few favourite travel spots. And visit a few new ones.

Explore With Fran

For any of you following our journey on Instagram (explore_with_fran), and if you aren’t, what are you waiting for?, you will have seen some of the sights and places that we have been lucky enough to see. Noosa and Brisbane in Queensland saw us soaking up the sun, and sampling big city life. Hamilton Island had us living the life of luxury, with qualia cementing its reputation as resort of choice for those special occasions. 

The Lion State

Singapore again showed me why it is one of my favourite travel destinations. A city state country that runs like clockwork. Efficiency and cleanliness are by-words that describe the Lion State. We stayed in a different location for this visit, right in the heart of Robertson’s Quay. On the river and a little more refined than its upstart neighbours, Clarke and Boat Quay. 

And whilst I am talking of refined, I must mention the Champagne High Tea we enjoyed in the impressive surroundings of the Raffles Hotel lobby. From the high tea, we had a walk to the very “insta worthy” Atlas Bar, for gin and tonics. In a bar that looks steeped in history, and very redolent of the 1920s, we sat back in quiet grandeur, reflecting on a very impressive afternoon.

First Time Dubai

Leaving Singapore, I got the chance to add to the “countries I have visited” list. As the taxi screamed down the freeway, I was convinced we were going to die. Never have I been so close to a car in front, at such speed. I was left to ponder, “would I have enjoyed Dubai had I survived this taxi ride?”

We did survive the taxi ride, somehow, and we really enjoyed our four nights in Dubai. We were joined by Dave and Jane and it was great to catch up over some fabulous dinners, the most notable being at Hell’s Kitchen, in the hotel. Alcohol prices in Dubai have to be seen to be believed and thankfully we had the foresight to pick up a bottle of wine and a small bottle of whisky in Singapore airport.

A phrase I used a lot when we lived in Perth, was “hotter than hell”. When my weather app told me that the temperature in Dubai “feels like 55 degrees” I had to do a double take. This really was hotter than hell. It was the most oppressive heat I have experienced and the swimming pool was the perfect place to cool down.

We certainly cooled down a few days later, when we landed at Manchester airport in the evening. Yes, this is supposed to be summer, but is it. Really? What are guaranteed are the long evenings. With the sun not going down until around 9.30pm, my body clock is needing to do a reset. It is hard getting to sleep whilst it is still light out.

The long days are allowing us to have long morning walks, and days catching up with friends and family. Through the pandemic, everyone has had a tough couple of years. We have been away for three years. A long time to be separated from family. Until we decide on what the next stage of our travel plans look like, we will make the most of being back.