New York City Holiday

I would just like to say one thing about our journey from London to New York and then I thing we'll move on just as the therapist suggested: If you really dislike someone and want to make them suffer, buy them plane tickets with Brussels Airlines.
Moving along then...New York eh?! Yep, we decided because we were that much closer to the USA whilst in England, we would just nip*across the Atlantic and take our boys, aged 14 and 17 to see New York for five nights, and even some days.(*really it's a decent 8 hour+ flight)
My husband Fil  and I are not really fans of cities. We don't much like crowds.
I stress about etiquette/cultural faux pas on the go and Fil, well, cities just seem to upset his whole Tardis coordinates.
To be fair though, the kids have been dragged around a lot of pretty scenery and historical buildings which is clearly boring as all buggery (This is mild colloquialism in Australia, so take it in context if you would- it means 'really, really') and we thought New York would be a little more exciting for them.

 New York City certainly hit the spot. What a great place! It's big, bold, busy and brassy.
 And I still liked it.
 Fil was the only one of us who had been to the US at all and never New York, so I looked up some etiquette and cultural tips so as not to appear too ignorant an ass during our  visit.
 I'll mention a few here in case you're thinking of going yourself and would appreciate some advice from a fairly clueless novice. Here goes-
For one thing tipping for service is standard,  but just so you don't get complacent, it varies from one thing to another.
Learning the different percentages is a great start, but there is a certain grace to it once you get the knack. So I imagine. We were hopeless! We tried. We threw extra money at some people and short-changed others (sorry!) in our awkwardness. No one swore at us though which was really decent of them. Not in a language we could understand anyway.

At first we didn't really get which helpful 'service' people get a tip and which you might offend by even offering. (For those interested, we left $2- a day for the hotel maid, tipped cab drivers between 10 and 15 % {you're grateful to survive the ride after all} and tipped meals 15-20%- but you gotta check the bill as some venues actually add the tip  themselves. )
Our accomodation was the Wellington Hotel on 7th Avenue on Manhattan Island. If you like a combo of chandeliers and scuffed skirting boards, this is your place. It impressed Borat in anycase as this was the hotel he stays at apparently in the movie of the same name.
 Don't get me wrong, it's a combo I quite like. Olde grande I call it. We had booked a suite based solely on having very little choice with it being Easter weekend.
We had spent many hours trawling the Internet for a hotel, getting more desperate as time went on.
 New York is not cheap at all, but the suite at The Wellington ended up a good thing as the boys had one room (a queen sofa and a portable king-single) with a tv and table and seats and so did we, plus a teensy kitchenette with microwave, fridge and sink.
 We all shared a nice bathroom with water pressure so high, taking a shower had you pinned against the far wall like a bug on a windscreen. From this I can assure you New York tap water tastes very nice.  Bonus!
 The Wellington is in a great spot mid-town, equidistant from Times Square and Central Park. There is a Greek Restaurant attached to the hotel which we never made it to, but the diner-style cafe is where we had our breakfast each day. Unfortunately the Internet shots did not show the queue most mornings to wait for a table. I had never been mashed up against diners, waiting a breakfast table for an 'included' brekky, but I have to say, the staff were amazing at wending and weaving and we never waited more than five minutes. It's just part of the fun.The trick was not to drool on seated diners.

The stodgy and tasty brekky of either French toast, a pancake stack with maple syrup of an 'American' cooked brekky, set us up each morning for a day of adventures.
I had booked a New York tour on-line (New York See It All! Tour). This turned out to be a really great city 'taster'. It was five hours long, mostly on a bus which we got on and off half a dozen times and there was also a boat cruise. It started and ended a few blocks from our hotel and we all had a great day out in glorious weather. We saw so many iconic tourist sights. Many we would have had to go quite out of our way to see on our own so this was a great time saver.
The Statue of Liberty out on the harbour was lovely. I was surprised to find to she was shorter than I  expected, but unlike me, of course seems taller on closer inspection. This was as close to Ellis Island as we got and for us that was fine.

Over the next five days we either walked or if we were feeling giddy, caught a cab which is a very affordable way for four people to travel cross town. Hailing a cab is a good exercise for tourists in confidence but in fact cab drivers are so used to bumbling out-of-towners, they'll pull up even if you gaze at them long enough with raised brows (you are trying to see if the cab light is lit to indicate it is vacant).
We visited the Empire State Building Never again. The queues sadly were a joke of two hours plus. At the top you have to wait patiently in crowds three-deep to get a view. Or yell "Look, there's King Kong", and push in as everyone turns their iphones upward.
 It took over an hour to get down again too. Urrgghh! Go after 10pm if you must go. (We tried to go at a 'shoulder' time too).Personally we happened to fly in to the city at night and they were the best views by far. Magic!

On another slightly disappointing note- Central Park- don't expect much in winter. It's bare and many lawns are roped off to recover. It just looked tired and over-loved. There are not really any flower beds that I saw. I bet it looks lovely in the summer and autumn though. I'd say best seen then.
I'm afraid artistically we only made it to the Guggenheim. There was an exhibition on that was not really my cup of tea, though I'm sure some people would enjoy it. Maybe. If you stood on your head and squinted.

 It really was worth going to see some of the permanent collection in any case. (I personally loved the pieces by Gauguin, Cezanne, Picasso, Rousseau, Bonnard, Seurat, Van Gogh).
New York is of course filled with amazing art galleries and museums but my teen boys were more interested in giant meals, giant toy-stores (FAO Schwarz is really impressive), Times Square and the general buzz of New York. We tried to book a Broadway show but could get no seats together. Should have booked before-hand. Speaking of hands- the tickets will cost an arm and leg but obviously worth it if you can gather the funds.

The USS Intrepid museum which is an actual aircraft carrier was a big winner. The museum is very interesting as are the collection of aircraft on deck including one of the  space shuttles. We also did the submarine tour which was genuinely fascinating (in a wow! and I'm glad it wasn't me way).
We visited the shrinking Little Italy, the growing Chinatown and SOHO- all great for a fascinating wanders of distinct uniqueness.

Our ice creams in China Town by the way ( Chinatown Ice Cream Factory) were amazing. My Zen Butter was divine (peanut butter and sesame).

We were pretty tired out with tramping by the end of our holiday, but really enjoyed our visit.
The locals were friendly and helpful to us at all times, though being a big city, people generally keep to themselves and get on with their own thing. Like getting around the ogling tourists;)
There are just so many beautiful buildings in New York, you have to look up a lot to appreciate them all!
I will just add that food really is very expensive if you dine in- even just a simple cafe, so the best way we found to eat (other than treating yourself to at least one great restaurant) is street vendors (the ones with queues are often the good ones;), deli's (which sell EVERYTHING) and the restaurants of Chinatown, Little Italy and the wharf building down Seaport ferry terminal.
I'm sure you could spend weeks in New York City and not really have seen much of it. It's truly a vast metropolis, but with all it has to offer, mapped out of sequentially numbered streets you can't really get lost on, I would highly recommend it as a fantastic place to visit.

Next we're emptying the coffers to go somewhere completely different...Ireland!

An English Winter

No matter the time of year, there is always a robin singing in our garden. Winter being no exception, the robin is a blessing in the cold, shaming you into crawling out of bed. If he can still sing with his little bottom feathers half frozen, you can certainly lift your Marks and Spencer's doona and stumble to the kettle.
When I describe our winter so far, as I soon shall, I have to say I am describing a winter in the South of England- that is to say by UK standards; not too grim. In fact the Scots would probably laugh long and hard at it, but for ex-Sydney-siders once outraged at an 8 degree winter day, it is a winter well and truly.
Autumn here ended in a layer of leafy, loamy compost- otherwise known as mud- so that when we had our first frost, it was a pleasure to walk on, not in puddles and to have the mud on our walks frozen in its tracks like cooled chocolate, but not as tasty.


I get terribly excited about the frost. You rarely get one where I'm from, and if it does it is an enfeebled relative of a good hoar frost.
 When I had to read 'Frost at Midnight' by Coleridge in high school, it was as exotic an idea to me as describing the weather on Venus. I didn't even know what a hoar frost was until I saw one here covering every surface with a beautiful crystalline glaze.

Driving Fil to work through the countryside, everything had turned a pale menthol colour and the dawn lights everything  through a citrussy gauze filter. I oohed and I aahed.
Fil just redirected my head to gaze back at the road  muttering about it being 'bloody freezing'. To him it is called a hoar frost  because 'hoar' is the sound of blowing warm air onto frozen hands.

I was so enamoured with this enchanted landscape I decided to go early one clear morning for a walk to the water meadows in Winchester. Being quite early and very cold, only daft people were up- that is to say me- and I saw no one about for a little time and felt like I had the whole beautiful world to myself.
Frost decorated every reed and branch and blade of grass. In the predawn, there was nothing but light birdsong and your breath on the air against the rosing sky.

 The river itself was still, blue glass and early though it was, the white swans, like ice-sculptures themselves, were already gracefully dipping their heads beneath the surface for breakfast.

St Catherine's, the old iron age hill fort , made a beautiful dawn silhouette in the south east, the first fingers of the sun combing through the knot of trees at her crown.
People, when you do come across them smile and greet you like a fellow secret holder.
 I came back from that shortish wander with frozen fingers and several hundred pictures I wasn't quite aware I had taken. It really was Magic!

The onset of winter here has a distinctive 'prelude to Christmas' feel about it.

Country butchers ready for Christmas.

 Initially people are excited with the cold because it coincides with the streets and shops being decked out for Christmas. Buskers sing opera or play flutes and lutes and violins.

Chestnut vendors appear in little red and gold painted pushcarts. Celebrations and ceremonies begin. In Winchester this began with an evening dedicated to turning on the Christmas lights. A week later is the lantern procession, where people make traditional paper lanterns and walk them in procession from the top of the high street to the cathedral. This marks the opening of the German-style Christmas markets and the ice rink- all nestled in the western lee of the cathedral. A choir heralds everyone in.

 The little cedar stalls with all their gifts and Christmas decorations look truly wonderful. The air smells of mulled wine and roast nuts. It is quite magical at night to wander around the stalls taking in all the sights and smells, pausing to watch skaters stay perfectly upright out on the ice.
 I like it in the early morning too when it is quiet and the sun glints of all the shiny stall decorations and the stall holders squint  in the light sipping coffee in preparation of a busy days trading.

Everybody seems pleased to be rugged up. You can feel the excitement. People wearing silly beanies or designer wellingtons wrap their fingers around a hot cider or mulled wine or hot chocolate with obvious relish. It is a happily administered salve to the first real cold. It does eventually disintegrate a little in the usual western pre-christmas panic, but for a time everyone enjoys it.

This being our first winter Christmas ever, we purchased our first real Christmas tree and a good sized goose for Christmas lunch. It doesn't snow as the boys would like, but we are not expecting it, people telling us that January is the usual time if we are to get any at all.
It's still lovely to enjoy our Christmas in the cold by our fake gas fire drinking mulled wine and eating mince pies. Gazing at our decorated tree, I am aware that this is the first time the Christmas cards we always receive match the real experience. The cold lends itself to hunger and we eat a beautiful Christmas lunch of goose and pork and roast winter vegetables, Yorkshire puddings and gravy. Not a drop of perspiration in sight. It is also nice to safely gain a few pounds and not have to get into a swimsuit for six months!

Christmas is followed by New Year and half the neighbourhood seem to have saved firecrackers from Guy Fawkes night. We fall asleep under a clear night of stars and fireworks, listening to some neighbours singing Auld Lang Syne with real Scottish accents.

 

We awake to the surprise that one of my brothers has seen in the New Year by getting married to his long-time partner at Gretna Green on the English Scottish border.
Facebook is full of New Years greetings going for 24 hours over different time zones. Hot or cold, everyone is pleased to have a sparking 'new' year.
For my birthday in mid-January I receive the gift of snow- quite a good fall, and though we are snowed in and cannot catch up with friends or relatives, I still have a lovely time making a snow-lady and walking my neighbourhood, wondering at the different landscape it has become.

 It is very strange to see the distant hills turned to snowfields and there is a quiet, almost post-apocalyptic hush everywhere. Most people are holed up indoors and cars are parked everywhere by the roadside. No-one is driving until the snow is cleared or the surface 'gritted'.

You can tell when the weather is about to turn- the shops suddenly empty of bread and milk, adding to the strangeness of this change in weather. People react as though they won't be able to get out, but I think it's more a case of not wanting to. A lot of people feel they want to hibernate.

For us of course it is a novelty.The boys enjoy snowball fights and Alex makes an impressive igloo after half a days work. We put out extra food for the birds and they seem glad of it. Every morning the snow is decorated with the little cross-hatches of birds feet. Our resident squirrel has disappeared completely. No doubt he is holidaying in Sicily.

We get a few days of sleet- nasty stuff that zeroes in on the tiny gap between your collar and your neck, and which ices up the road and pavements so that you have to walk very carefully- placing each step with a mindfulness knowing if you do not watch where your feet go, your backside with pay penance.
Though nights get quite cold, dropping down to -5 at times, we get some lovely clear days to go exploring. Many places close down in January for renovations and rest but the countryside is always open if you have gumboots and a warm jacket. I love seeing the stripped architecture of the trees in winter, pale green with moss and all carrying buds on their branch tips.

Though we still have February before us, the days are slowly lengthening again and the tips of a billion bulbs have already come up, with some blooms like snowdrops already flowering in places.
The yellow tassels of witch hazel and early gold flowers of gorse are a promise that winters end is drawing nearer, and I get a feeling that a spectacular show like I have never seen is just around the corner.
 Hold tight your mittens, but spring is almost here.

A Walk in the Autumn Woods

 

If you like Autumn (and I lurrve it), then you want to get out as much as possible during the season to soak up that gold into your eyeballs before the glitter fades.
Its a floriade of gigantic proportions, that goes all the way from gigantic trees carrying on like orange lava lamps, right down to dainty sprays of red berries, golden brown nuts and a rainbow of fungi at your feet.
Everywhere is the smell of woodsmoke, the odd bang of crackers and birds singing their hearts out while the going is still good and they haven't dropped frozen to the ground.
We are very lucky to be quite close to The New Forest in the south of Hamphire. It's a mixture of woodland and heath and boggy march and streams crisscrossed by hundreds of trails for the walker, cyclist or horserider.
The forest has all manner of wild animals including larger ones like deer and even its own breed of pony, native to the area.
 Pigs, cattle and donkeys also graze in a semi-feral situation, owned by locals whose families have been doing so for many centuries. Obviously a time-consuming job.
Through this semi-wilderness we set off on a walk very recently. We were folllowing a proper walking trail but decided to buy an ordinance survey map the size of a small country to 'help' us along our way. After being folded twenty two times and turned this way and that, it did indeed offer us a little help. I did my best to ignore teenage comments of -"Why don't you just use your phone Mum?!"
"No, not happening!"
 Firstly I wasn't going to admit I hadn't thought of it and secondly there is no romance nor education in GPS. A map is a magical thing I believe adds to the adventure. I keep my adventures small so it all works out mintily in the end.

The Pub- the real incentive for walkers

Our idyllic walk of course was circular- ending and beginning in a village green, AKA the pub.
But visiting must wait, and with that carrot  dangling, we diverted only to buy a piece of local cheddar and loaf of bread before we set off.
(Our fave walking picnic- bread, cheese and apples- that I can buy them now- fresh and local makes me want to do a little silly dance of smug happiness)
The course we took begins on an actual road- excitingly only one lane and between hedge,s so that you put out a hand to check the folliage for prickles for the time ahead you may have to throw yourself into them.
 Having run that guantlet, I am pleased when we reach actual forest and are walking off road.
I would like to impress you with them names of the trees we passed but aside from the obvious oak and maple and birch, I can only tell you they were very pretty. Every shade of gold from butter to bronze, citrus oranges and browns and reds.
Bracken dying off on the forest floor just added to the whole beauty of it. While the boys trailed behind us no doubt discussing xbox, I walked along saying repeatedly like a loon- "Ooh, isn't that beautiful!' every ten steps. Understandably Fil began to walk slightly ahead of me.

It's more fun to talk about Xbox in an outdoor setting.

Because I would pause and take pictures (Oh now she uses her phone!), I kept stopping and then running back to catch up, much like the labradors we saw people walking.
Dogs here are so polite, like most of the people. Owners say' "Come!" (if they even need to) and the dogs do it. Amazing!
Anyway, eventually we began to see more birch and then fir trees, which could only mean one thing (and that one thing wasn't that I had teleported to Norway), that we had moved to a higher, dryer area. It had been a cold morning so between the bracken steaming dry and the fir trees, I fully expected to see a tyranosaur emerge from the verge. Very exciting!
Up ahead the path got sort of shadowy and I said to Fil with enthusiasm- "What would you do if you saw a faun run across the path up there." (me pointing ahead). Fil raised his eyebrows-
"Well I probably wouldn't register it as a faun." (this isn't really true, if it looked like James McAvoy playing Mr Tumnus he would shoot it, considerably reducing the rsik of my running into him one day)
"Oh my God, how many mythological creatures have you possibly seen and not even registered?!" I almost yell at him.

Where IS James McAvoy?

Anyways. About halfway (it probably wasn't but whenever the kids start whinging we say it's 'halfway') we stopped for the aforementioned victuals. Of course we had already packed pear chutney, butter, apples and still water (tap water).
 Some toadstools kept us company as we kept an eye out for adders. Because the New Forest is on the warmer south coast, it has almost Australian sympathies and has a full arsenal of lizards and snakes, including England's one poisonish snake. I say poisonish because its generally not fatal. But still, any amount of venom injected into my body is wholly unwelcome, so we keep a good eye out for any slithering around our lunch table (pile of logs).
Lightly dusted with flour and cheese crumbs, we set off in seach of the heath we know is not far away. I identify "stone pines" in a loud voice. No-one cares, but I am impressed with myself especially as I cannot tell whether it is true knowledge or my subconscious making it up. Wacky and wily old brain!
The heath duly pops out before us, a mellee of browns with nowt but the odd  tree posing for effect. We have missed the heather flowering and the other flowers, butterflies and fairies of summer, but the heathland still  looks very lovely in it's scruffy coat of browns.
Wild pony backsides are visible everywhere once you start looking (because their heads are down grazing). Like a 'Wheres Filly?' sort of illustration.

'Wheres Filly?'

 Flynn wants to sneak up and hug them all one by one, but I don't know what preferred equine personal space is and I can't imagine being chased by ponies is very dignified.
It is a little bit like being out on the wild moors, but my Heathcliff has disappeared into a thicket of holly bushes up ahead. It's very exciting for me to see wild holly covered in red berries. Not only is it not plastic or on my front door, it is actually a facinating little tree with multiple trunks like a huddle of antelope with spiky hides. I shall gather some real stuff this year for Christmas. Brilliant!
Skipping on...Heathland makes way once more for forest and we wind down into some gullies where streams runneth over ground covered in nothing but a carpet of leaves. 'Tis very pretty but only I still thinketh so. The boys have had enough and Fil is no doubt halucinating pub oasis .
 Still, there a few last entertainments  to be had before we make it back there. Both involve ponies.
Firstly as we're heading down a lane, we see a pony coming towards us, followed by another and another and so on. They turn out to be the most adorable pick pockets that ever tried to eat your coat. We are lighter by two apples by the time they go on their way. Flynn attemts to hug each one, obviously hoping one will follow him home.

Pony highwaymen

And then we reached a VBP (very boggy paddock). It began innocently enough at a stile.
 You know: those wooden things you clamber over, throwing mud from your boot into your eye. Well, I like to think I actually have a bit of stile style. Country blood you know. But on the other side of said stile was a whole lot of muddy goop containing not a bit of animal excrement, due to it being an actual working paddock complete with staring livestock.
Well, of the four of us, let me say only two were wearing sensible foot attire. We all squelched and
skidded our way across this field, not swearing too much because there were two older folk walking behind us doing just fine.
At the far end of the paddock was the final stile,  locates of course at the boggiest spot of all. If that wasn't cause for pause, the pony standing in the way was.
 But wait, there's a second pony, who like an enthusiastic bouncer, pats you down for num-nums before you can even get near the 'stile pony'.
 I made it through alive, cleverly giving Fil my apple and escaping whilst he was being frisked. The boys, in their whimsical footwear stood way back, calling- "How do we get through?"
Now look, if I got some great amusement out of watching them mince their way through the quagmire whilst trying to direct ponies, I make no apologies. What I really wanted to do was video it, but I didn't. Because really I am a caring and thoughtful mother? No, probably more that I simply couldn't hold my phone up and slap my thighs laughing at the same time.
So, bespattered, tired and some of us squelching rhythmically, we did all eventually make it back for a pint at the pub.
Alex and Flynn collapsed their heads onto the beer-garden table while Fil and I went inside for drinks. The pub being busy, meant we didn't get served for at least ten minutes. We did have a good view to the garden from where we waited and we could see the boys didn't move an inch from their collapsed positions. They'd had a ball obviously: the worn-out little mud-skippers.

 

 

 And that's what its all about really: Autumn- fun, fresh air and a jolly good outdoorsy romp.
 Hurrah for Autumn!

Bavarian Holiday

Our next trip planned was Germany, and I for one was not so quietly terrified about the idea.
My father is German, specifically from Bavaria in the south. When I was a kid, I was put onto the phone to talk to my German grandmother. How I hated it! The poor woman and I could barely speak a word of each others language.No matter how many years went by we always had the same sort of conversation-
"Good morning/evening Nana/Natalie!"
"How are you?"
"Good."
LONG PAUSE.................................
Not much else,
"Okay, here's mum/dad...Goodbye/goodnight!"
And then relief mixed with terrible guilt. My Nana always sounded so happy to talk with me, but talk is not really what we did. I really dreaded those 'conversations' and then felt worse about feeling that way. All this had made me feel very nervous about revisiting the place. A few German lessons have not really improved my grasp of the language either and I haven't been back for 30 years.
Everyone wants to go, so it's top of our list, nervous or not. My grandmother is sadly no longer around, but we do tee up to meet with some relatives in one area, and I pick the other places for their ties to our family. If we're going to go, I want the boys to see where some of their ancestors come from.
Munich will be the beginning and end of our trip and is the only place not family related (well also the castle Neuschwanstein- I have been unable to trace my family tree back to King Ludwig, which is a shame because I would really like to inherit the place).
We check the weather forecast for the week we will be there.
 'Cold, freezing, freezing, cold.' We will be dropping down ten degrees from England. We  go out and buy extra clothes, especially in the thermals department.

Munich is indeed freezing when we arrive and is spitting icy rain. We rug up in a naive amount of clothes and go for a walk, grabbing fresh pretzels along the way. By the time we get back to our hotel we are half frozen and it is snowing in earnest. We are the only people jumping around in excitement about the idea.

 

In the morning both Fil and I jump out of bed as soon as possible to peer out the window like Santa has visited. We are not disappointed. Though we only look out on the train station over the road, snow has coated everything. It's popular to get around Munich by bike so there are hundreds of bikes parked round the station, all covered in snow.
We have a delicious breakfast and no matter where we stay during out holiday, breakfast never fails to please. The coffee is great and food to follow generally includes fresh breads, cake and pretzels, German sausages in various varieties, plus all the usual from a western style brekky both hot and cold. We pretty much waddle out each day.

 

Our first proper day of exploration, we whack on all accouterments for the cold. The boys in particular are dying to get out in the snow because its such a novelty. It fails to register with me that this could go on all day, and does. All the hours of walking, is at the speed by which two kids can also throw snowballs at each other or dump snow from a tree on each others head.

 

Munich is beautiful. We are staying in the old part of town and are amazed at the sheer size of it and the huge amount of incredible building and statues and general decorations about the place. Sadly when people think of Munich they tend to visualise the October Fest, but there is way more to the city. Way, way more.

 

The adornment of building with both sculpture and murals and tiles is magnificent and we probably catch a fair bit of snow in our open mouths. We walk all the way to the river in the north part of the old city. It is stunning too, though the last thing you would want to do is swim in it- it looks freezing. The snow falling now was in perfect snowflakes which none of had ever seen before. It was like having the finest white star confetti fall on you. Our dark clothes were covered in these perfect little sculptures. We stood there for ages like idiots remarking on them and trying to take pictures. Just magic.
We are absolutely worn out by days end of trooping in the snow but cake and coffee, followed by a traditional Bavarian dinner has us very happy in our exhaustion.
Next day we catch the train to Kempten, further south towards to Alps.

 Kempten is where my father grew up. Compared to Munich city it is much smaller. Our hotel is on the  road by the river with the old part of town just the other side of the bridge. There is snow everywhere here too, and it is still snowing lightly. We set off to explore straight away as we only have two days, and the next one would be visiting a castle some distance away.

 

There was a market winding itself through town so after having a look around we have a lunch of hot crepes. Yum. We had had the same meal in Paris five years ago and it is lovely to be travelling again in Europe having the same happy nutella smeared faces.

 

Once again we were impressed with the lovely building and fountains and churches. There is a sort of 'civic' pride that is really noticeable and impressive over here. The sort of decorations would just wouldn't really see much of in Australia. Of course, these places have been around for a lot longer, so plenty more time to decorate! In fact Kempten I found out is one of the oldest towns in Germany, founded around 752AD (Munich 1158), so plenty of time as I said to embellish.
Next day we set of a variety of transport modes to see Schloss Neuschwanstein. The story for this is far too long to tell here, but truly fascinating, right down to the King's eventual mysterious demise. I saw this place 30 years ago: I could remember two things- a room in the castle, and the horse cart we took up there- the horses farted all the way up the hill.

 

Although taking the horses up would have been great (wind or not), the queues were long and our legs quite capable, so we set off walking from the picturesque village up what turned out to be a very big hill. Peering out from the snowy trees beside the road (which regularly dumped slush onto people- amusing unless its you) we could see out to a winter wonderland valleys that stretched out for many miles.We could see lakes and little houses and everything dotted with beautiful snow-covered spruce.

 

 

Finally at the top we had a few minutes to snap the imposing outside of the castle before heading off on our allocated English-speaking tour. It is quite a process to see this place, but not expensive. It was busy despite the cold and I couldn't comprehend how busy it must be in the summertime.
 Once again, not enough time here to describe this place but I'll just say King Ludwig had been a  huge fan of Wagner and that every room we saw was a masterpiece of theatrical decoration like you have never seen. Just stunning. I immediately wanted to go back to mural painting. Even the boys were impressed, so you'll know it was truly amazing.

An incredible sunset on the alps was our view for the trip back and a fittingly picturesque end to our day.

Another train and we were off to our next destination. This time Lindau on Lake Constance ( Bodensee for the locals). Lake Constance is on the borders of Germany, Austria and Switzerland and the Lindau area is the only slice from Germany (The town is in two parts, one of which is an Island and the other on the mainland and from which area my grandmother originally hailed.

 

Lindau Island is where we stayed and once again it had been three decades since I had seen it and had only a vague memory of the harbour foreshore. It really is a magical place. By now we had blue skys and snow was only visible of the distant mountains on the far side of the lake. Der Bodensee is a long lake so you can see across it in parts and in the other direction it looks endless like the sea.

The water is crystal clear and very lovely. The little harbour mouth has a lion statue on one side and a lighthouse on the other and is the spot some years ago one of my brothers proposed to his wife. Nice spot Mark!

We very much enjoyed our stay here. The streets are cobbled labyrinths of gorgeous buildings- residential and shops. Once again, thoughtful and beautiful decorating is everywhere and of course being on the shores of the lake just make it even more spectacular. The boys made friends with a cat called Sam in a park and I'm sure were planning to kidnap it. I know Fil even snuck out from brekky with some smoked salmon for the poor half-frozen animal.
Finally we set off to Ulm, further north, where we would visit some relatives and where my cousin Jurgen very kindly spent a few days off work, showing us his town, as only someone who has grown up in a place can. Jurgen happily for us speaks excellent English and having struggled at times over the last week in German, it was nice to have a proper conversation with someone both parties understood.

He gave us a great tour of the old town beginning with Ulm Munster (minster) an amazing gothic church (tallest in the world) ,at which we all thought it was a great idea to climb hundreds of steps in the tightest spiral staircase I have ever been in- and people were also trying to come down! My poor lungs and heart! I cannot say how pleased I was that the second (and longer) half of the steps was temporarily closed.The view from the top was of course fantastic. My cousin promised us on a good day you could see the North Sea. Turns out the Nordsee is a chain of fish and chip shops ( cue German laughter)  BUT we could certainly see far beyond that.
Once again on the ground we had a look inside the minster (which I learn took over 500 years to complete).It is certainly a triumph of vision,construction and beauty.

 

Over the next two days we got no only to see Ulm and surrounds but hear local stories and facts (often amusing), but I also got to see and understand how this branch of my family fitted into all of this and for that I am very grateful. Its one of the reasons we decided to live in England for a while- you just don't get to fully appreciate a place unless to have the time to look more deeply. I also got to hear about my grandmother from people who DID know her very well and loved her, stories that were both moving and healing for me.

 

From Jurgens bee-hives, to Blautopf, to Ulm and it's sister- Neu Ulm, we had a thoroughly enjoyable few days (including excellent food and ale, both bought and home-cooked) in great company so that by the time we returned to a now snow-free Munich, we felt we had experienced an admittedly small but very comprehensive view of Bavaria, and enjoyed it thoroughly.

 

For myself I had a great time, and though it would certainly be handy to know more of the language it was certainly no hindrance to enjoying this very beautiful place.
 I'll be back!

Living in England- Same, Same- but different!

You can tell a tourist by their clothing can't you?
 The local fashion may not be very complicated, but bless the tourist- they just can't put two pieces together in a convincing fashion.
I am that tourist. I packed for our trip really poorly- my wardrobe looks like it was put together by someone escaping a house fire or drunk and wearing an eyepatch.
 It seems hysterically stupid, but I am having trouble just trying to casually stay dry and warm beyond pajamas. And the angle of the sun up here- it's lower on the horizon and gets right into your eyeballs. Why did no-one mention that? I need sunnies more than I did in Australia.

While I struggle with staying dry without looking like a fisherman, the boys (big and small)  have their own difficulties. Money is one of them- they cannot get their head around the plain looking paper notes and alien coins. At the shops they tend to dump a handful of coin on the counter and get help from a patient cashier.
Alex obsessively converts every price to dollars before he decides to buy it. Most of the times its a bargain because clothes are cheaper, as is food and public healthcare.
In England I can afford to buy mostly organic food from the supermarket. There is a much bigger range to choose from, with very clear information given on packaging. In fact there is a far greater range of everything to the point of things being overwhelming. Doing the groceries here does my head in.
  I would guestimate there is between two and three times more choice than back in Australia. In the preprepared area you need never cook again. Supermarkets here can be E-normous. Your trolley may contain butter, a bike, drycleaning, your mended shoes, a formal dress, and your prescription made up for the anxiety of shopping .
And, 10% of your supermarket isles are dedicated to liquor from around the world. By the time you reach it you are are too thirsty or stressed to ignore it. You have to recycle glass at the supermarket. I think this has replaced confession.
Far from what I have grown up with, my little local store is as cheap as chips, often cheaper than the supermarket and having a good turnover, is quite fresh. If I wasn't interested in variety I could almost do my groceries there.
Health here is also very affordable. I am on a visa so I am lucky to recieve care like a local. Most over the counter medicine is extremely cheap and public doctors gap-free. Prescriptions for many people including children are free. A flu shot will set you back 8 pounds and can be administered for free by the chemist. Unheard of!
A causal appointment at the Doc can take far longer here to get, but the serious are given priority and for the unsure, there is a very good phone service to acertain how unwell you are, or to give free advice, which I think is great.
Coming here you may not formally need vaccinations, but in fact as Australians we are very succeptable to all European virus strains, because we have never been been exposed to them. One such virus got us all and really hung around. Poor Fil had to take 3 days from work, and was very surprised to fill out his own doctors sick note- which everyone does for up to two weeks sick leave.
 In Australia there are I think different rules with various employers, but my last job every day off- even one- needed a doctors note for which I had to pay a $26 gap.
Furniture and household items I find to be similarly priced to Australia, but council rates and utilites more expensive. Services are often slow (it took nearly 4 weeks to get a phoneline) and I hear people complain about trades people overcharging and certain services having a monopoly they use to exploit people. I guess each country has it's ups and downs and all things balance out more or less in the end.
Houses and rent seems fairly comparable. Where we are here the locals find expensive but we find reasonable. Wages here though are lower than London as would be expected and so amny people communte there to work by car or train, just over an hour away.
Public transport is very good here and the vehicles quite luxurious but it is also very expensive and mostly privatised, though booking ahead makes a big difference.

 There are bargain flights to be had to Europe all the time( but not always for four people and not necessarily to the exact city of the country chosen). Petrol is dear- you pay in pounds what we pay in Australia in dollars.
Schools in this area are quite prestigious. What we call private in Australia are called public here and vice versa or something like that- quite confusing, but essentially my boys attend free schools as they did in Australia, but the ones round here look and feel like the private ones in Oz and all have waiting lists a mile long. Schools in general here seem to be overflowing.
For Alex attending college (senior high school), being Australian is a novelty that initially caused some ribbing, but with other students from all over the place, its all in a type of fun that I think he  enjoys. People over here expect Australians to be sporty and he is. No uniform and being treated as an adult is a bonus too.
For Flynn in a highschool where 99% of kids seemed to be English, he is finding being Australian a bit trying at times. His nationality is such a novelty that people constantly ask him to 'say things' so they can wonder at his accent. He finds the comments are very stereotypical and annoying. Australia is a long long way away and apparently still in the 60's. Also he isn't sporty and teachers tend to use that as a conversation icebreaker which falls flat.
Fortunately both boys have made friends, making school life easier. And they both like their teachers. In some areas the boys find subjects easier, some a bit harder. Both school are much bigger than anything the boys attended in Sydney, but are extremely well organised. It is assumed you are very familiar with the English system and this does sometimes cause some hiccups.
Fils work has been an unexpected culture shock. Employees at his work are much older on average and mostly anglo saxon. Many people are 'old school' something Fil had little dealings with before.
The sense of humour here is odd. There definitely is one, but people are quite proper, at least where we live. If you say something self depracating, they will often keep a straight face as though in serious sympathy. There are less out-going wacky colourful people and more odd and eccentric. People are just more self-contained.

Something I really like is that if people bump into you here, they always apologise. Back in Australia it was one of my gripes that if someone bumped into me they would rarely apoligise. I found myself doing it instead and then getting cranky because it wasn't actually my fault. Everyone here is very polite. From the down on their luck, to the teens, to the business people, doors get held open for you and people have lovely social manners. It's something that stands out. And in this area too, I rarely hear young people in groups acting agressively or swearing or yelling out. I'm sure it happens but not like I would hear it back where I lived. Once again, Winchester is only one place in England but the people here are nice. When you go for a walk, people say hello, no matter gender or age. Back home, fifty percent of people would look the other way when you pass, especially younger people.
Once again I have to say I am comparing one area I used to live in with only one I currently live in and neither are perhaps typical of their whole countries. But really, it amazing how very different two largely anglo-saxon English speaking countries can appear superficially similar but are really very different. I can only really admire the folk that switch places to a foreign language and/or a completely different race and culture. That would truly be a very big adventure.

 

A Seaside Holiday

With autumn imminent, the number one pick for our next free weekend was the seaside.
There's a sense of urgency to see as much sun and and outdoors as you can before you grab a crate of Tim Tams and a big doona and hibernate for the winter.
We picked Weymouth in Dorset for several reasons. One- we'd never been there, two- it's two whole counties away giving us some new places to see along the way and three- it's not too far from one of our favourite spots from our holiday five years ago, Lulworth Cove.
I've noticed In England I have a pessimistic/optimistic attitude to packing- you pack the stuff you hope you'll get to use (in this case swimwear), and also the stuff you will probably have to use (rain gear). Invariably the weather is somewhere in between and I will have nothing to wear.
We pack up Minty the wonder car and head off down south, with, it would appear, half of England. It's a slow drive but we're heading off on a beach holiday, and so who cares.
We chose a B & B as we often do. It's something I don't think I've ever done in Australia but I love using them here. 90% of the places we've stayed were great. There was that place where we realised upon retiring for the night, that our hosts have given up their own beds...
Usually it's good however. I love coming down to a little pine dining room in the morning the air smelling of cooked breakfast. You sit there at your little table, scooping marmalade out of those tiny glass pots and smile to yourself listening to other folk around you with various accents, plan their days adventures.If you are lucky your hosts are chatty and helpful and full of wonderful local facts and information. Other times they might hide and you can't really blame them.

Our hosts are in the lovely category this time and direct us to some likely places to get a good supper and the most pleasant route there. It probably wasn't the most wonderful route, but bless them they tried.                                
Weymouth is big old town. It sits on a wide bay facing south, with powdery sand at one end and pebbles at the other.It's full of hotels and amusement arcades and like many seaside places looks a little worn in a loved-to-death way. But the beach is pristine and raked daily and the water is great for families being shallow for quite a way out.
There are Punch and Judy shows, donkeys rides, trampolines, merry-go-rounds and ice-cream aplenty. We had fish and chips for dinner and Fil stated it was the best he's had in England- pretty hefty compliment. We strolled along the waterfront, illuminated with all the restaurants and clubs and then back over the swan dotted river to our beds.
The next morning, forecast good,  we head to the the beach early and for a while have it mostly to ourselves. The very brave menfolk hit the water, albeit very carefully, and I sat on the beach admiring their tenacity and being relieved I had none myself.
 An ice cream or two, and several hours later we drive to Lulworth Cove to visit the Durdle Door, part of the very long Jurassic Coast- loads of chalky fossil encrusted cliffs and beautiful beaches.

We came prepared with a camp stove this time and some sausages and had a lovely sausage sandwich lunch. Always hits the spot.

The kids tried to bury each other with tiny pebbles and I admired the scenery feeling very lucky to have gotten the chance to revisit such a beautiful place. The views from any spot, high or low are gorgeous. There was a kite flying above the cliff (the birdie kind) and I couldn't believe how it just sat on the air in exactly the same spot a few metres above the grass, waiting for a careless rodent.

Our last day arrives too quickly and this time it's raining. We don appropriate alter outfits, say goodbye to our lovely hosts and head to Kingston Lacy, a National Trust property halfway back to Winchester. Because we are members of the Trust, whenever we go away now, we look to see what property is in the area and go see it. Always great value.

Kingston Lacy is a jaw-droppingly stunning manor house on manicured acreage. The house is lovely from the outside but inside- ooh la la! The National Trust is doing a lot towards making properties interactive and child-friendly, but this place is still in the midst of child-frowning and really I can't blame them- it's like a palace inside. It's the sort of place you need to spend all day in to utter the appropriate amount of oohs and ahhs. We got at least an hour until enquires from the kids about leaving began, and then a good half hour after that.

                               
The grounds are nice to walk around as well though I was really annoyed to leave the little shepherds hut behind. Some consolation was found in the very nice cream tea that ended our visit. Unfortunately the wasps were just as enamoured with the strawberry jam as I was. Being chased by wasps was an unexpected and  rather exciting end to our holiday weekend.