Postcard from England, part III (subtitled: punting on the Thames)

Remember when we sent actual postcards, in the post, when we went on holiday? They always arrived long after we came home but that was part of the charm, sort of (what wasn't so charming was writing dozens of them, trying to write something different in each one as if the recipients were bound to compare them and would be disappointed if the same phrase appeared on different cards...)

This is the modern version; it also arrives long after my return, so there's a bit of nostalgia for you right there.

On my last vacation day I went up to Henley-on-Thames. They had a "traditional boat festival" going on, however, I was seeing a friend who was participating with a vessel that was neither traditional nor a boat.

And I totally forgot to take a picture of the thing,

so this is a pic I stole from his facebook page, 

totally without permission

(hope I'm forgiven? :-)

I did, of course, remember to take a selfie.

Goes without saying...

That, my friend, is an Alvis Stalwart - an amphibious truck used by the British army from the mid-sixties onwards. Very cool thing to have sitting on your driveway.  And it lets you see the town from a different angle:

The Stolly wasn't the only amphibious vehicle around. There were quite a few, including this stylish one: 

aaaand into the water she goes

This makes a nice change from the usual

Sunday drive down to the pub, I think

One thing I love about England is they do events like this so well.  You can always be sure to see a couple of elderly gentlemen, totally dressed the part.   And find a nice place to sit down for a cup of tea. Or a glass of Pimms.  And there is always, always catering for your canine friend as well :-)

Alas, end of journey. The evening was spent on the terrace of an airport hotel, wine in hand, interrupting an otherwise interesting conversation every 2-3 minutes with "ooohhhh, LOOK - a PLANE!!!"

More travel to follow. Autumn plans include Hamburg, Berlin and, of course, the United States.  Can't wait :)

Postcard from England, part II (subtitled: all the pics I didn't take)

Waaaay back in the days - 2006 or thereabouts - my then-boyfriend gave me a camera. A pink Sony point-and-click thing, which proved remarkably durable.  It got clogged up with sand in Dubai which messed up the shutter mechanism; then about a month later I dropped it on the medieval streets of Carcassonne in France which not only did the camera survive; it fixed the shutter thing as well. Awesome little pink gadget.

The pink camera and its blue successor were my trusty companions on all the trips I took the next 6-7 years. But then I strayed. I bought an iPhone. And the camera mostly stayed home.

I love my iPhone to bits and pieces, and where would I be without Instagram, Snapchat, etc. etc. etc. - but I've never quite mastered taking good pictures on the run (mostly when driving) the way I did with the camera. Or at least, the successrate is remarkably lower.  Also, I'm way better at taking pictures on the sly when I'm using my camera instead of my phone :)

So whilst driving around the Cotswolds in my own terrific company, there were hundreds of pictures I didn't take.

And therefore, you won't see

...the lady who had lunch with her cat in a pub (it had its own plate and everything)
...the man who trimmed the edge of his lawn with scissors (a variety of garden pedantry I invariably associate with the English although it may be more widespread than I realise)
...the impossibly beautiful landscapes that are everywhere
...the pile of horse dung advertised for sale at the edge of the road, and the horse that made a contribution to it the very moment I drove past
...the man who told me he was in room number 4x4 (and no, I didn't go. Not only was I not tempted; I also didn't quite catch whether he said 404 or 414 and with my luck there is no doubt I would have ended up in the wrong room) (which would have made for a very interesting blog post indeed - but, no. Just no)
...the Indian family who had dinner at one of the hotels I stayed at. Never have I seen such gorgeous saris; never have I had a heartburn so bad as the extremely spicy curry they shared with me resulted in. Hot food and me clearly don't mesh well.

But you do get to see the gorgeous market hall (1627) in Chipping Campden





And the NatWest bank in Evesham (now, why doesn't my bank live in a building like this??)

You can see the canal in Lower Slaughter...

And one of the houses I might buy there

This WWI memorial totally reminds me of Downton Abbey.  I have no idea where it is - downside to driving around without an actual plan or route is that you tend to forget where you've been :/

....and ze family butcher (which always makes me want to pop my head round the door and ask, "how much to do mine?"   (please tell me I'm not the only one with such a bad sense of humour)  (hello??) 

Postcard from England, part I (subtitled:because I'm worth it)

I don't usually travel much during the summer months. Something to do with the garden being too lovely to leave, something to do with being intoxicated by the very thought of three whole weeks with absolutely zero schedule to adhere to, and something to do with every man Jack and his extended family also being on vacation and crowding hotels, flights, and any sights I may want to see.

But not so this year. Related mostly to the previous post's "hearts broken:1 and hearts mended: .25"; the latter hovering more around .05 at the time, I felt very much in a shampoo commercial because I'm worth it frame of mind and decided to cash in some miles for a ticket to London.

A similar train of thought had me on a hellbent I'll show him  myself the whole world I can do whatever I put my mind to mission and with that particular thought in mind I abandoned my trustworthy (ahem) ally British Rail and rented a car.

It isn't so much the whole driving on the left thing. I've done that before - albeit ten years ago, and in New Zealand. But I've spent more than my fair share of hours in the passenger seat in Britain and I know that many of their roads (at least, the ones I like to explore) date back eons. Well before anyone had thought of cars, much less two cars passing. What they had thought of was hedgerows. Tall, beautiful hedgerows, hugging the side of the roads snugly.  In other words; English country lanes are NARROW.

....so I went out and rented the least narrow car I could get my grubby little hands on. But of course.

And now that I'm safely home, I can say with total confidence and more than a smidgeon of pride (possibly a dash of arrogance as well): aced it.

It was an absolute beauty to drive, and boy-oh-boy you should have seen me confidently gliding through rush-hour traffic, roundabouts, roundabouts with traffic lights in the middle, and double-roundabouts (because that's how the British roll - you can't really have enough of a good thing).

Of course, sticking mostly to aforementioned country lanes, I didn't have to worry too much about keeping to the right (left!) side of the road, there only being space for one car.

(So when I came up to this farm vehicle which had blown a tyre and dropped hay bales all over the road, I graciously told the farmer I had all the time in the world and did not at all mind waiting while they crawled back to the farm at snail's pace.  Well, it was either waiting or reversing a quarter of a mile down a winding lane, so not a difficult choice ;-)

First real stop was the teeny tiny village of Slad. Mostly because I liked the name and also because it was the home of the writer Laurie Lee whose book "Cider with Rosie" I read many many years ago and don't really remember anything much from, except the inexplicable longing for England it awoke in me.

I had lunch at The Woolpack (don't you just love the names of British pubs!), caught a glimpse of a lady sharing her lunch with a kitten, and chatted to a man who used to live on a house boat but now owned a tiny cottage in the middle of nowhere and kept chickens (instant friend!) and did odd jobs for a living. And then I drove on, with the sat nav off.

'

This area, the Cotswolds, is awash with rolling hills - decoratingly dotted with flocks of sheep -, cottages built in Cotswold stone which has a certain yellow-ish hue to it so that even on a rainy day they seem to radiate a quiet sort of glowing coziness, and village after village with enchanting names. Broughton Poggs. Great Rollright. Shipton under Wychwood. Lower Slaughter. (And Upper Slaughter of course)

My travels took me fairly close to the Welsh border and I was thus able to enjoy the melodious tunes of BBC Cymru. Very delightful; of course I didn't understand a word of it but it was thoroughly fascinating all the same (I have fond memories of Wales. One time I climbed Mt Snowdon wearing sandals. Not 100% sure why I'd embark on something so foolish, but someone told me it would be an easy stroll and that I might be able to catch a glimpse of Ireland from the summit. Of course, it was so foggy at the top that I couldn't even see the path, nevermind Ireland, but I made it. Then I caught a tiny, rattling train back down again, went to the station where a drunken Welshman I'd met earlier was loitering (with intent). He snogged me and made a number of interesting suggestions not suitable for mentioning here -or in fact anywhere-, whereupon I caught the first train out and ended up in a very rainy Birmingham. As I said, I like Wales)

It's been said that if you have a garden and a library, you'll want for nothing more. I would submit that a passport should be added to that list. But then I reckon you'll be just about covered.

Stuff I did when I wasn't here, part 3: considered going vegetarian

Lad det være sagt med det samme: jeg synes meget bedre om Hong Kong end om resten af Kina. Hong Kong giver på en måde bedre mening i mit hoved når jeg bevæger mig rundt i byen, og lur mig om ikke det nok er kolonitidens aftryk der huer min anglofile hjerne. Inderst inde er jeg jo bare en elitær europæer.

Når det så er sagt, så lykkedes det mig stadig at få et par nær-gys-oplevelser ved mødet med et menukort...

@ N ~ you haven't really been to China if you haven't seen at least one menu with rather unusual items on it.  This time it was Hong Kong which I liked a whole lot better than mainland China (it's the elitist, anglophile European in me, I'm sure).  I still spent a couple of delightful moments pondering which delicacy to try before meekly opting for "just noodles with chicken please".

Mmmh, Saliva Chicken.

...or Drunken Pig?

Decisions, decisions...

Savlekylling eller beruset gris?

I'm guessing it was the Drunken Pig

that was out of service (but could 

definitely be mistaken here. It just

seems very likely is all) 

Jeg ved ikke helt hvad det var for

en ret, der var "out of service",

men det lyder da sandsynligt,

at det var den berusede gris

Hønsefødder og abrikoser

og lungen af en kyyyylling

Kom så, syng med børn!

PS . Det kan ikke udelukkes, at det

er lungen af en gris. Men kylling

passer bedre med melodien.

...but nothing beats this one from Beijing.

Face/Off

Intet slår dog denne her fra et menukort

i Beijing. Stop-Spild-Af-Mad folket

græder af lykke over den smukke

udnyttelse af hele dyret :-)

Stuff I did when I wasn't here, part 1: travelled to a parallel universe

I september var jeg i Hamburg med en flok fra arbejdet. Det var ræddi, ræddi sjaw, og en øjenåbner på mange planer. Først fandt jeg ud af, at Louboutin-sko koster lige så meget som serviceeftersynet på min bil. Så blev jeg tipsy i champagne midt om eftermiddagen (der var tynde strimler af appelsinskal i!  Nom nom nom!) (og en lækker bartender - altså ikke i glasset, men bag baren) (helt sikkert gay, men pyt) (...)  Så var vi ude at spise på Die Bank, hvor denne fine mand pryder en af væggene....

Og SÅ gik vi på Hofbräuhaus. Da vi kom ind lagde jeg godt mærke til nogle personer i Tyroleroutfit, men jeg troede bare det var personalet.

Men det var det ikke!  En lille ekspedition ud til dametoilettet gik via dansegulvet, og de var ALLE SAMMEN, næsten, iført Heidikjoler og Lederhosen. Det var helt fantastisk! Som at være steget igennem en magisk portal og pludselig befinde sig i et helt andet univers. Jeg døde næsten af begejstring over al denne tyske entusiasme.

Den unge mand i det fine outfit nedenfor har jeg en date med til næste september. Jeg kan ganske vist ikke huske hvad han hedder, eller præcis hvilken dato, men det skal nok gå alt sammen. Vores forhold var kort og følelsesfuldt - jeg spurgte om jeg måtte tage et billede af ham, "weil du siehst ja so fantastisch aus", og i løbet af ganske kort tid svang han mig rundt på dansegulvet så jeg følte mig aldeles i Harzen og det var ganske fortryllende.  "Wir sehen uns nächstes Jahr" aftalte vi, så det er ganske vist. 

Og denne seje dame - hun er fra Dänemark. Det er min kollega, som satte samtlige Mädels til vægs ved at løfte hele 5 ølkrus i én hånd. Jeg var dybt imponeret. Selv kunne jeg ikke styre bare et enkelt; jeg sad og drak suttekop-style med begge hænder på kruset. Og måtte levne over halvdelen...

@ N ~ a little scroll through the pictures on my iphone shows just how remiss I have been in keeping you updated on The Life and Times of a Travelling Spinster (that would be me).

So today I'll share some pics from September last year with you. They're from a weekend in Hamburg with some of my colleagues, and it was the.most.awesome.weekend.ev-ah.

The amazing people that I work with let me tag along with them to a shop that sold Louboutin stiletto shoes. A pair of those cost exactly the same as having my car serviced, and I absolutely cannot walk in them. Amazing stuff.  Then they got me tipsy on champagne in the middle of the afternoon - I took to it like a duck to water - and I did some serious flirting with the bartender (gay as a picnic basket of course; they're always the best flirts).  In the evening we went to a cool restaurant and after dinner we went to the Hofbräuhaus for some serious beer.  The pic above is one of my colleagues who could easily get a job there - 5 beer steins in one hand! I'm ashamed to say I couldn't even lift one; at least not in a controlled manner.  Drinking beer, sippy-cup style, is a new level of coolness for me....

And the people there - fantastisch!!  Most of them were in Tyroler outfits, and they were having a great time. Walking across the dance floor felt like entering a parallel universe. I very nearly died of enthusiasm.

The guy posing in one of the pictures took me dancing, and we have a date for next September which I am very much looking forward to.  If only I could remember his name. And the exact date. But no matter, it's a date. Definitely :-)

See you in a few hours

We are out to dinner. I have time to blog; my sister wants to stay here all night. And we might need a full five hours to sample all the stuff they have here.... Good thing I brought clothes with elastic waistbands :-)

In good health

There's a medicine shop across the road. They've got this one on display. When I asked if it was plant or animal, they told me half&half. I will go back tomorrow and find out what it's good for....

The selfie stick-less sister

Today we do Victoria Peak. This is not entirely without risks. Having witnessed how they fix the tracks in between trams we were squashed to a pulp as fierce tourists showed no mercy in the battle of Getting a Window Seat. More pics to follow, but we made it to the top and successfully navigated the forest of selfie sticks without getting poked (much) 😊

My car is disastrously under-decorated

The Chinese New Year is approaching. The year of the goat is just around the corner. This may or may not be the inspiration for these cars...

We have been shopping for food. The fish did not come home with us, but a giant Happy New Year apple did

Airport vignette II

Complimentary literature at the gate. When I get home I'll be so slim you won't be able to recognise me....

PS "Schlank-Trick" is on the list of new favourite words. Obviously. 

Airport vignette

I was up before 4AM this morning

I've had a latte and a bagel with salmon and cream cheese

And the lady in the chair next to me is reading a book with the title "Winter Kartoffel Knödel"

...and I'm booked on a plane to the Far East. Things could be worse. Welcome back to the blog :-)

I clearly need new clothes

Tur-rapport fra Wien, hvor jeg har tilbragt umanerlig dejlig eftermiddag med at indtage talrige kopper kaffe og kun lidt kage (.....) i det dejlige solskinsvejr. Jeg er på vej til Iran -HURRA- og benyttede lige lejligheden til at krydse Østrigs hovedstad af på listen over byer jeg ikke har været i. Det har jeg nu, og det smagte dejligt. 

Eneste lille ting: for et par timer siden lå jeg mageligt henslængt på en parkbænk og læste, da en lille pige gik forbi med sin mor, pegede på mig og sagde noget i retning af "vielleicht hat sie auch kein zu Hause?"

Ligner åbenbart en hjemløs. 

@N ~ have spent lovely sunny afternoon in Vienna, en-route to Iran. Have sampled the Viennese coffee, limited my intake of cakes, practiced my German (every time I said "vielen Dank", they replied "you're welcome". Something tells me ze pronunciation needs working on). 

Before going back to the airport I took a pit stop on a park bench to lie down and read. I was quite enjoying myself when a little girl walked past with her mum and I heard her ask (in German obvs.) "perhaps she also doesn't have a home?"

Hmmmm.  Apparently I look like a homeless person. But I'm sure the fashion conscious Iranians will sort me out in no time. Well, I hope so. 

The travel bugs bite

Alle mennesker har forskellige stress-triggere. Den suverænt værste for mig er, når jeg skal udfylde + indsende en visumansøgning.  Alt andet er jeg totalt sej til; og det jeg ikke kan - det "winger" jeg. Overskud er mit mellemnavn. Bare ikke når jeg skal søge visum til eksotiske lande.  Stress-svedende sidder jeg med vilde øjne og nidstirrer ansøgningen for at være 120% sikker på, at jeg har udfyldt hvert eneste felt og ikke ved en fejl er kommet til at krydse af ved ja ud for spørgsmålet om der er sindssyge i familien. Det tager mig 2 dage overhovedet at få den ud af døren, fordi jeg skal dobbeltchecke alting omtrent tyve gange.  Processen forsinkes yderligere af, at man meget ofte ikke må udfylde ansøgningsskemaet i hånden. Hvilket i princippet er OK, men når et af spørgsmålene er "which other countries have you been to?" og pladsen til besvarelse ikke er bredere end kolonne-vidden på denne blog, så kan det blive en anelse udfordrende....  Min løsning?  Jeg tilføjer en ekstra linie - skrevet på mit højtelskede gamle hakkebræt.  Hvad skulle man dog gøre uden en skrivemaskine anno 1959?

Når så jeg er blevet enig med mig selv om, at smukkere bliver den ansøgning altså bare ikke, går jeg ned på strøget og investerer mindre formue i pasbilleder. Herefter vandrer jeg ind på posthuset, tilbringer ungefär en halv time med manisk at checke, at jeg nu har printet samtlige af de påkrævede bilag ud, hvorefter jeg bruger en anden formue i frimærker på at sende mit højtelskede pas ud i det blå med anbefalet post.

Så sveder jeg lidt igen, for et menneske som mig, der altid har sit pas med (man ved jo aldrig, hvornår man kan blive tvunget til at forlade landet i en fart ...), er det meget skræmmende at overlade det til først postvæsnet, som utvivlsomt vil sende det med et postfly der bare forsvinder i luftrummet over Fyn, og herefter en ambassade, som - er jeg helligt overbevist om - vil lægge det i den nederste skrivebordsskuffe, ignorere det i ugevis, for herefter at tage det frem og stemple ***ACCESS DENIED*** henover det.


...

Jamen, jeg ved da heller ikke hvad der sker i mit hoved. Normalt er jeg relativt rationel, men jeg har altså lige det her blanke område i min hjerne, hvorfra al fornuft forlængst er udvandret.

Og nu er mit pas naturligvis for længst hjemvendt igen. Ledsaget af venlige hilsner fra ambassaden, som både ønsker god tur, lover godt vejr, og gerne vil høre hvordan turen gik, når jeg kommer hjem.

Det er jeg helt sikker på, at I også gerne vil høre om :-)

@ N ~ my passport has been on a little adventure!

I usually think of myself as a fairly calm and rational person. This may or may not be correct, of course. But the one definite exception is when I'm in the process of applying for a visa.  My own private stress trigger numero uno.

First, I pore over the application for about two days. Reading and re-reading the questions; checking and re-checking that I did not accidentally tick the "yes" box next to the question "does insanity run in your family?".

What doesn't really help me is that most embassies write that you cannot fill in the application by hand. They have a very helpful pdf form that you fill in online. Which is of course very well, except often they ask which countries you've been to before, and set aside one line about the width of this blog for the answer.  My solution to this?  I fill in as much as I can online, then print it out and add an extra line underneath on my ancient type writer :-)   and then I hope that when they see my occupation (travel agent) they will understand.

Finally I tell myself to stop obsessing. So I gather up all the various insurance printouts, copies of itinerary and passport etc. etc. that is supposed to accompany the application, and trot down to have a few passport pictures taken.  And then I go to the post office, where I spend about half an hour going over the documents ten times before sealing the envelope with a kiss and spending a small fortune in stamps sending it off by registered mail.

Now it's out of my hands, but that doesn't stop me fretting of course. I'm convinced that should I be lucky enough that the envelope makes it all the way across Denmark without the post office mislaying it (or sending it by air mail on an aircraft that just vanishes), the person in charge of the incoming mail will then place it in the bottom drawer of his desk, let it fester for a few weeks, before finally pulling it out and stamp ACCESS DENIED all over it.

I really cannot give you any good explanation why my imaginations runs wild like this. It is completely ridiculous.  Especially as my passport is now home, safe and sound, accompanied by the embassy's best wishes, their promise of fine weather on my trip (all part of the service), and a request to let them know how much I've enjoyed myself when I come home :-)

I am counting the days - it will be AWESOME!!!

Air France-KLM study trip St Maarten

Jeg var så heldig at blive inviteret på studietur med Air France og KLM. Ud over at det altid er skønt at komme ud og opleve de flyselskaber vi sælger mange billetter på, var vi så heldige at vores 2-dages tur, som fandt sted den sidste -meget kolde- uge i januar, gik til St Maarten, hvor 26 behagelige varmegrader lokkede.

PS - for the record: nej, folk på rejsebureauer inviteres ikke ustandseligt med på den slags ture. Så du behøver ikke at dø af misundelse :-)

Du kan gå ind på bloggens hovedside og bare læse indlæggene ud i et (de kommer lige nedenunder), eller du kan klikke på linkene herunder. 

Tak til Air France og KLM for en meget spændende og informativ tur!

The last week in January, I was one of the fortunate participants on a 2-day study trip, hosted by Air France and KLM. Our destination was sunny St Maarten - a bit far to travel when you actually have less than 48 hours on the ground, some would say, but it was perfectly pleasant.

You can either scroll down and read the blog posts below - or you can click one of the links.

Merci & dank u well to Air France and KLM for a very exciting and informative trip!


Our outbound flight Paris CDG-St Maarten on Air France

Our return flight St Maarten-Amsterdam on KLM

Changing flights at Paris CDG Terminal 2

... and pictures of planes at Airport Beach St Maarten - a haven for plane spotters :-)