An Irish Family Holiday- part 1

“I’d just like to point out something to you if I may?”

The Flybe check-in lady is pointing a finger at our e-ticket.

 Three heads bend down to examine it.

April 6............... Oh. Shit.

Today is April 5^th.

 My husband Fil and I and our teen boys Alex and Flynn had just got up at 4am to catch a flight from Southampton to Dublin. We are headed for a 9 day tour of Ireland.

There are options as to what we can do, but as the boys point out: who in their right mind (if given a choice) would get up at 4am two days running?

We wave farewell to a small wad of money and look forward to that time in the future when our mistake will make an amusing story. I personally wonder whether they will offer wine on the plane as breakfast food.

 In any event, we are now on our way to begin our newly 10 day holiday.

We have booked a 4WD tour for 7 nights with a company called Vagabond Tours, which will begin early on Monday.

 The tour, called North by North-West, will follow the coast more or less, heading north first from Dublin along the east coast, then along the north coast till Londonderry where we will cut across to Donegal and then head down the west coast as far as the River Shannon.

We chose this tour because it sounds like a great combination between sitting back and taking it in whilst hearing local history, and getting out there for walks amongst it.

Best of all its more or less out of our control so I am confidant there will be few complaints from  teen quarters. 

 It now being a Friday we will have three days to explore Dublin first.
 

We're not in Kansas anymore Toto.

From the moment we touch down in Ireland, we notice the people are open and friendly.

Dublin airport border control is the friendliest I have ever come across. Far from making me feel like a criminal (as most countries seem to do) it was a pleasant experience. I was laughing before I even left the airport.

Our Dublin Hotel is The Grand Canal. Though a little south of Dublin city centre it proved very easy walking distance to many tourist spots. The room quality, service and breakfast turn out to be universally great.

With cold but sunny weather, we dump our luggage and we set out to explore.

I must be in Ireland!

 

Dublin has an amazing mix of old and new. I have to say on the whole it is done very well. It is a very easy city to explore: flat with lots of pedestrian and cycle paths with hire bike stands everywhere.

 

Fil had been to Dublin back in 1996.He is amazed how the city had changed in the interim with the prosperity of the Celtic Tiger. Large shiny buildings line the river where he remembers old docks.

Over the next three days we visit Dublin’s beautiful parks and walk along the south and north banks of the river Liffey (the name originates from the word ‘life’ apparently) crossing it's various bridges, old and new.

 

In the beautiful Georgian quarter we visit The National Archaeology Museum. The building alone is beautiful enough to warrant a visit in it’s own right. The exhibits are  excellent. Perhaps most memorable are the ‘bog bodies’ recently found dating from the iron age.

It’s not often you see mummified bodies, especially ones so well preserved. It must be quite a shock for bog cutters to come across one, but a great story to tell at the pub afterwards!

Cleopatra? No, Flynn in chain mail at Dublinia.

 

Dublinia is a place we very much enjoy visiting too. This tourist destination exhibits recreations of life in Dublin in the Viking and Medieval periods. It is really well done, giving a tangible feel to the city’s rich history.

Only his shoes showed that the force was with him.

 

The wax museum also gets a visit. It’s a bit tired and dusty. Many of the historical figures are unknown to us, but we would become more familiar with many of them as we learn more of Ireland on our tour.

Flynn tries on the One Ring

 

In any case the boys enjoyed a few photo’s with some of the figurines.

Spongebob and Patrick

 Fil tries to visit the Old Jameson Whiskey distillery but it the queue is so long, he leaves, consoling himself that he will visit other distilleries on the tour. Honestly, the tears were few.

The Temple Bar area, Dublin’s historic quarter is a great pleasure to explore and probably how I envisaged the city. The buildings are colourful and full of character- a photographer’s dream. There’s loads of quaint and bargain filled shops, pubs and café’s. I much prefer this to the cities high street which is filled with the usual chain stores and costumed leprechauns waving donation buckets near the Molly Malone statue.

On one day we have a great lunch at The Brussels, an iconic pub. My mussels in garlic- cream sauce (with a chunk of soda bread on the side) is truly delicious.

The Big Keg?

We really enjoy out three days of exploration. We like Dublin very much but its time to leave.

Before we know it we are shaking hands with our tour guides and loading our luggage into the converted  4WD’s.

It being the beginning of the season, us four are the only guests. As a bonus we have two guides- Mark, and Sean who is in training. Wow, we will be spoilt! We can’t wait to start.

The little black Vagabond- mobile

The first leg of the tour takes us all the way up into Belfast. Mark has organised for us to take a ‘black-cab’ tour of the city’s trouble spots: the area occupied by Catholic’s and the area where Protestant’s live. The black cab idea is that it is a discreet and respectful way of visiting these areas. Our driver proves himself a wealth of unbiased knowledge.

  When we arrive at a particular open area whose house ends are covered in various memorial murals of people or events, we get out to take a better look.

 I don’t take photos. I feel odd and slightly uneasy here. It is a very sobering experience. When we drive into the walled areas of the city I am even more quietened. People live here in the lee of the wall (which is 25 foot high) with tiny caged gardens, so that if people throw something over  they are safe. Gated areas are still locked at night to keep possible troubles at bay. The whole thing is very sad but of course interesting in a depressing way and quite an alien sight to me for which I am grateful.

I am offered an opportunity to sign the ‘peace wall’, a piece of the wall which runs along My words look completely lost amongst all the other messages of peace, but it’s good to see so many hopeful words.

Amazing food. We personally came across nothing but.

The day’s mood is lightened by a great lunch at one of the most beautiful pubs I have ever been in- ‘The Crown’ in Belfast city. I could go on for some time on its merit alone- a true Victorian beauty. It is just as well we were eating as my mouth was hanging open anyhow. How I wish we had pubs like this in Australia!

The beauteous Crown, Belfast

In the afternoon we wind our way into the Glen’s of Antrim area.  It’s very beautiful with it’s green and rolling hills and still very cold with snow by the roadside in higher areas. We are told they had so much snow in fact that many farmers lost their new lambs. It is obviously a wild place where you take a risk to make a living.

 We stay the night in The Londonderry Arms, Carnlough, a faded seaside town. It has the feel of a closed down fairground on this cold day but I imagine it hums with life in the summer as it is a beautiful spot.

 

 Fil and I take a post-dinner walk along the seashore. Snow is clearly visible of the hills beyond.

Carnlough

 

We sleep well ourselves, but the boys in the next room do not. They are convinced it was haunted and kept the light on all night. It is the first time they have ever said such a thing . The Hotel, once inherited by Winston Churchill has a dated seaside holiday charm reminding me of childhood holidays. Later when I look up the hotel on the Internet there are numerous mentions of ghosts. The hotel itself calls the ghost ‘friendly’. Well, you would, wouldn’t you!

Rathlin Island and part of Scotland in the distance

 

The next day we continue our spectacular coastal drive. We have opted to do a walk across a rope bridge at Carrick-a-rede. We are asked if anyone is scared of heights and warned the bridge does swing a bit. In my mind I imagine an old rope contraption with seaweed dangling from it and seagulls flying below us through a bottomless crevasse. I am carrying my terrified husband.

I am relieved by the reality. I see the area is owned by the National Trust and the rope bridge is very new-looking and stable. Phew! It is still enough to have the group of Japanese tourists, crossing it when we arrive, scream very loudly. It seems the more terrified they are, the more photo's are taken.

The Carrick-a-rede rope bridge- better than you could hope for!

The area is beautiful; rocky cliffs and blue sea with green pasture above. The water below is a place where salmon used to run each year and the bridge was originally made by fisherman for whom my initial respect turns to thoughts of lunacy. It’s quite a thing to pick your way along a steep cliff, then make it over a paltry rope bridge to a tiny rock, all in the name of fishing. Sadly there are no salmon left to fish now.

The bridge is 66 ft long and 90 foot high above the rocks and waves. And it does swing!

Give me a bucket and spade and leave me for 20 years. The wonderful Ballintoy Harbour.

 

The next place we visited was Ballintoy Harbour. I immediately wanted to move there. What a magical place! Sandy little beaches, sea-caves, rock pools and boulders strewn with emerald sea-weed and yellow lichen. The sea was calm and serene in the sunshine. At this time of year (April) we almost have it to ourselves but I imagine in the summer it’s very popular.

 

 To top off this perfect place (if possible) there is a little café with the most delicious and enormous range of cakes (and other food, but who cares?). The boys order ‘Lumpy-Bumpy’ which is as delicious as it sounds odd. I'm hungry just thinking about it.

 

Sigh. It’s hard to leave this spot, but with belly's full and the Giant’s Causeway beckoning, how can we possibly resist…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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!