Author: Mark Whitmarsh

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Port Louis

Port Louis is a fascinating place but our visit was far too brief and we only gained a small snapshot of the city. This was our penultimate outing in Mauritius but Port Louis is the  capital city and it may have been an error to visit for such a short time since it is full of interest. Now that I’m home and have spent much time reading, researching and learning about the places that I visited (hopefully to educate myself and my followers). I write this with a certain amount of regret for not making the trip to the capital a full day. We live and learn.

Enough of what could have been! We arrived into Port Louis to light rain and parked in what appeared to be a modern car park near Caudan Waterfront. How many capital cities in the world would you be able to park right in its heart, free of charge and with ease? Leaving the car, we walked unknowingly around the back of the Blue Penny Museum which is dedicated to the history and art of Mauritius.

 

Directly opposite the museum was a bust of Nicholas Baudin, funnily enough a Frenchman, a cartographic surveyor and naturalist (research reveals that he died on the island on his return from exploring and surveying the coast of Australia).

      

As we continued our stroll, we left the museum behind us and walked under a canopy of colour. This came from several colourful hanging umbrellas.  This looked like evidence of investment that had taken part in this part of Port Louis – a modern feel of entertainment, with shopping stores and eateries for the masses. The vibes were of a feel of a hangover as slowly but surely everything was springing into life. As we left the shopping precinct we passed a large anchor – a reminder of the city’s shipbuilding past.

Port Louis   

Shopping precincts are, to us, boring at the best of times and we were glad to reach the harbour’s edge. We walked a while but this was soulless and barely a boat to see except for a large military ship looking old and retired yet dominating the view. This was very surprising considering the country has no military force. As we turned away to look towards the rest of Port Louis we saw 3 statues. Our driver informed us that one was Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam (see the blog on the Botanic Gardens). The other two have been researched since coming home and only then to realise that they were huge characters in modern Mauritius. Is this the reason for the three statues being together in one square? The other statues were of Sir Aneerod Jugnauth (affectionately known as SAJ, a former President and Prime minster of Mauritius, who considerably shaped the economic and political contours of modern Mauritius) and Professor Basdeo Bissoondoyal (a Mauritian social worker who played an important role in pre-independence politics. He was a man of knowledge, discipline and perseverance and is portrayed as a beacon of hope for the common people).

   

Leaving these statues we headed towards the underground walkway. As we were just about to go down the steps when the Mauritius Postal Museum was pointed out to us.

 

Sadly, this was passed by with speed as we made our way towards to the central market. As we stepped into the vibrant and bustling indoor market, we were aware of the bright colours of fresh food and the smells of spices on sale.  Their rich aromas spread through the air tantalising our taste buds. Some stall keepers stood proudly hoping you would buy their produce, while others engaged in conversation with associates and there were plenty who were busily doing their much needed transactions. This all created a wonderful hullabaloo. We left the market by a different entrance and stopped at a few stalls selling some touristy bits which we picked up.

   

After our saunter in the market, we walked some of the local roads nearby before we retraced our steps back towards the Caudan waterfront. Along the way we passed some points of interest which included the entrance to Chinatown (I’ve never understood the fascination with these, common as they are in most cities these days) and the historic Jummah Masjid Mosque (oldest and first mosque built on the island – we didn’t know what we were looking at really so passed through quickly) and several colonial buildings. One of the colonial buildings in particular stood out, as it looked for all the world like “tin foil” had been used to repair a section of the roof. We returned back through what were now bustling streets surrounding the central market and past the main bus station. Lots of rickety, colourful old buses lined up ready to take locals to all various parts of the island. This is always a sight to behold and always action packed.

We picked up the underground bypass again and came out by the Postal Museum again. Before walking behind it to see the Port Louis Port Police building, we noticed a rather odd structure. Tucked away in between some modern buildings was a random windmill and it looked quite incongruous but fascinating. Puzzled by this building, I made sure that it was something that was researched when time allowed (windmills were built to assist the agriculture industry on the island and in 1999 this one was converted to a museum), and definitely would not be ignored next time we visit.

   

We had places to be so we left the windmill and hastily returned to the car via the Caudan waterfront. As we retraced our steps we passed the 3 statues though this time from a different angle. This meant that we noticed yet another statue behind them on the other side of the main road. This was the statue of Bertrand-François Mahé de La Bourdonnais (see Botanic Garden blog). His relevance not yet known he was sadly ignored, apart from a long range shot on the camera. His statue is located at the end Place d’Armes, which leads to Government house. We made our way back to the car jumped in and left for our next destination. I did make sure that we stopped at the Madurai Mariamen Temple.

      

Back to the regret thing. Research ahead of the whole trip makes sense. We missed the two cathedrals, the Champ de Mars (oldest horse racing track in the southern hemisphere), Fort Adelaide, Aapravasi Ghat World Heritage Site, hikes and viewpoints of Port Louis and countless museums. There’s loads to see and enjoy. Time beats you on occasions and opportunities aren’t grabbed. Let’s hope opportunities aren’t spurned in the future, and life will provide us with another chance…

Port Louis, Mauritius
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Chateau de Labourdonnais

Walking along the majestic avenue towards the Chateau de Labourdonnais is like passing through a tunnel. We’re told that the trees that obstruct the distant view yet create a magical, intriguing pathway are Ficus macrocarpa and also known as Chinese banyan. This is a ‘tunnel’ that is begging to be investigated. Every now and again the blazing sun appears from behind the white puffs of cloud in the sky. The natural sunlight almost provides spotlights along this tunnel as the rays shine through the branches and leaves. Heavenly birdsong drowns out the sound of our weary feet walking along the stony drive. We take a moment to pause. There is ‘light at the end of the tunnel’. We can see distant pillars forming part of a structure located behind a small fountain at the end of the path. We walk slowly under the blanket of greenery that shades us and the view changes with each step as we get closer to the building. Then, as if by magic, we have escaped. The avenue suddenly sprawls into a bowl shape that surrounds a basic and charming fountain. The water splashing out of the playful child statue cannot distract from the elegance and beauty of Chateau de Labourdonnais behind.

Chateau de Labourdonnais   Chateau de Labourdonnais

A brief history
The marketing material reads ‘estate established 1774’. As mentioned previously, this was during the French occupation of the island. At the time, the plot of land was a concession granted to two young orphans, Marie Louise and Henriette Tréouart de Longpré. We learned that these concessions were granted to colonists to develop the land. This normally involved property improvements and developing agriculture. By the time the British were in possession of the island, a certain Mr Jean Baptiste Germain bought a plot of the land in 1814. He built the first sugar mill in the island on that property. 7 years later in 1821, Mr. Jacques de Chasteigner Du Mée bought the estate. He set about extending it from a modest 186 to around 1400 acres in 8 years. Upon his death the property passed to his two daughters: Mrs Aubin and Mrs Bourgault. In 1839 the estate was named Labourdonnais (perhaps after the Governor we learned about in the last blog, however, he had nothing to do with this property). Mrs Bourgault’s son-in-law (Christian Wiehe) was married to her daughter Emilie. In 1856 Christian decided to build a chateau. It only took three years to complete. Christian Wiehe was evidently a clever man with good business acumen. I’m led to believe that he was a distinguished Mauritian.

The Chateau
This is not a castle (the French word château means castle), but a magnificent mansion. The pristine appearance screams wealth and prestige. The restoration work that has been undertaken here is most excellent. The designs of these plantation houses have taken into consideration the hot weather. This one has a double veranda that looks like a wrapping around the house that almost hides it. It is stunning with a colonnade of white/cream pillars, almost Romanesque, which are used to support the first floor and roof. It is, to my mind, a simple yet effective design. One could imagine sitting out on the veranda and enjoying the view back up the avenue. We sat awhile and watched the playful birds. There is a difference between Chateau de Labourdonnais and Eureka Mansion, built 1830, and it is stark. One feels that the first owner of Chateau de Labourdonnais was richer than Mr. Le Clezio but this is only an impression gained. This may be down to differing levels of investment in the refurbishments but there is a clear contrast.

 

After walking across the veranda and through the entrance hallway, we start to notice the symmetrical alignment and details of the whole house. The dining room has delightful scenes painted on the walls which add a real splash of colour. A chandelier provides glamour above a plain brown table which has been left laid, one feels, for some imaginary guests. On the opposite side of the hallway is the lounge. Again, this is beautifully restored. It is, however, very bland in comparison to the colour and style in the room we have left behind. Other rooms on this floor include a pantry, a storage room and a study.

 

On the first floor is a bedroom neatly laid out, and where you can watch a documentary about the restoration work that took place here (time was short and, sadly, we missed out), and then there are some exhibition rooms. These displays provide valuable information about the island, the agriculture activities that took place and the history of the Wiehe family. Regrettably, we didn’t have the time to read all this information as we were exhausted from our day out. Thankfully, I managed to take some notes on the important information that has proved invaluable in writing this blog. After completing this floor, we left the house from the far side to explore the grounds.

   

The Domaine
I mentioned earlier that the estate is vast and not all could be seen on this quick visit. We made do with the visit to the Chateau de Labourdonnais and a walk around the small garden area attached to the side of the house and also to a little ‘farm’ area. The small garden area and grounds around the house showcase the natural beauty of the vibrant flowers, and trees including towering palms. Altogether they create a sumptuous display of colour and exude a potent fragrance. Being animal lovers, we quickly bypassed the ‘farm’ area as it seemed to be too crowded and a lot of petting was underway. Instead, we enjoyed the local flowers and birdlife. Along the way we could see the sugar mill in the distance and we finished at the rum distillery. The wider estate has diversified as time has passed and developed a couple of shops, a restaurant, a café, a garden centre, and a school. A ticket to visit the chateau also includes a tasting session of their home-grown rum. Created using fruits and sugars grown on the estate, we feel sure that the rum is good, but, sadly, our taste buds didn’t enjoy it (to be fair we don’t enjoy rum back home either!!). We can say that we sampled the rum but are not the best tourists to pass comment.

Chateau de Labourdonnais was the most up to date attraction that we visited on the island. It is testament to the stunning work that has been undertaken to preserve Chateau de Labourdonnais. We hope to return one day. In the meantime, anyone visiting please feel free to let us know your feelings.

Chateau de Labourdonnais, Beau Plateau Road, Labourdonnais, Mapou, Rivière du Rempart District, 31803, Mauritius
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Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam Botanic Garden in Pamplemousses

Rumours of its beauty, its history as the oldest botanic garden in the southern hemisphere, combined with the knowledge that it is one of the most popular tourist destinations in Mauritius, meant a visit was a must. The Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam Botanic Garden in Pamplemousses didn’t disappoint!! Botanist’s we are not, but we certainly enjoyed viewing the vast species these gardens had to offer. Our visit and further research once home also educated us, not only on the flora, fauna and birdlife but also on a few people associated with the island’s history.

We were given a couple of maps of the Botanic Garden after paying our small entrance fees, and, wanting some time to ourselves, we ignored (perhaps wrongly) paying for a guide to take us around and instead tried to navigate our way to the points of interest. The guide would have provided us with valuable insight and knowledge of what we saw, but alas, it was our honeymoon, and it was nice just to enjoy each other’s company!!

François Mahé de Labourdonnais
A Frenchman and a successful sailor and trader before he became Governor of the Island (1735-1749). He set about raising many buildings, including a fort, armoury, and warehouses. He established Port Louis as a naval base and installed a dry dock to establish ship building. He also set about building a number of houses, one of which was Chateau de Mon Plaisir (located in the Botanic Garden). Following our newly acquired maps we headed straight for the first point of interest, the Chateau. A beautiful building standing proudly, it immediately captivated our attention as we walked towards it blissfully unaware of its history. We admired the building but didn’t venture anywhere near or inside the building, I mean, we were here to see plants!! There were some noticeable trees planted by famous visitors. One in particular caught the eye and that was planted by Princess Margaret on the 1st October 1956 and labelled “Lagerstroemia speciosa.”

Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam
As we moved around the chateau capturing photos from different angles we discovered a place which, I imagine, would have huge significance to the people of Mauritius – a memorial to Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam. We were walking on the exact place in which one of the country’s most illustrious sons and who was also called the ‘Father of the Nation’ had been cremated on 17th December 1985 (as was Hindu tradition), 2 days after he deid at the state house in his role as Governor General. It is evident that this man was a giant among Mauritians and highly respected. He was a politician, statesman and philanthropist who fought for the rights of the labourers. His most noticeable contribution was, surely, securing independence from British rule in 1968 and in turn becoming the country’s first prime minster. The significance of the man has only been realised as a result of this trip. Not having been alive when these events happened it is easy to bypass part of British history and the breaking up of the empire. We perhaps should have realised the importance of the man when we arrived at the Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam Airport.

   

Pierre Poivre
We left the memorial to Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam and followed the main avenue (Avenue Sir John Pope Hennessy) towards the white lotus pond. We were enamoured by the local birds as they entertained us on the grass as we walked. The pond had striking, white, lotus plants, photos of which we captured before moving on to find the main feature – the giant lily pond.

Just before our arrival at the lilies, there was a bust of a gentleman called Pierre Poivre. Again, we blame our unintentional ignorance of who this man was on a lack of resources. With a name like Pierre, you would be right in thinking he was French, which indeed he was! I’ve mentioned that France controlled the islands through the East India company before the British took control in 1830s. During the French ownership, Pierre (in 1765) became Intendent (Governor) of the island and neighbouring Reunion. He founded the botanical gardens that are enjoyed to this day back in 1769 as he tried to break up the Dutch’s monopoly of spices. He brought many plants and seedlings to the island which were mainly varieties of cloves and nutmeg.

Bust of Pierre Poivre at Sir Seewoosagur Ramgoolam Botanic Garden in Pamplemousses

The head of this figure was made such that he looked directly at the Giant Lily Pond. The spectacular Victoria amazonica lilies bathe on the surface of the pond. These lilies are huge compared to the lilies we’re used to back home. Their roots are noticeable around the side and beneath the plants as they lay peacefully in the water. I am not sure whether to describe them as bowling green like or green floating pancakes. They certainly drew a crowd – both people and birds alike.

We left the lilies and, following the map, tried to discover anything else that was fascinating. We did walk along ‘Avenue Charles Telfair’ in search of ‘Talipot’ tree. I think it was the wrong time of the year for this to be in bloom as we did not notice it or could see it. We spent time admiring all the flora and fauna of the Botanic Garden. The avenues that we walked were stunning, lined with tall palm trees on both sides. They looked all the same but apparently this is home to over 80 different types of palm tree! We meandered our way around the rest of the gardens before heading back to the main entrance. The gardens spread across some 37.5 hectares.

 

As we walked back we made our way along  ‘Avenue Bernardin de St Pierre’ it brought us to the edge of the ‘Grand Bassin’ (I would guess a man-made pond), where we watched nature in all its glory. I mentioned in the ‘Tamarin Trawling’ blog how I had been fascinated with the striated heron. We were lucky enough to see one attempt to get his dinner. We were stood on the edge of the pond and were trying to photograph one in the distance, when Hannah quietly pointed to one just in front of us. I quickly refocused my camera when I saw that he had a fish in his mouth. We stood there watching as the heron tried to kill the fish. The fish was a slippery customer and managed to escape, bloody and wounded back to the haven of the water. The heron bemused by defeat then prowled along the edge of the pond hoping to recapture its prey. Sadly, we couldn’t stay any long to watch any more action. A natural display of life, survival and potential death and food.

Looking back at the map, it looks like all the avenues are named after people. I would be very surprised if they aren’t associated with the country’s history or had been visitors. We were visitors but, sadly, I don’t think we will get an avenue named after us!! We returned to the entrance absolutely enchanted by our visit to this botanic garden. Perhaps we learned something that day – don’t ignore these botanic gardens when visiting new places on future holidays.

Pamplemousses, Mauritius
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House of 109 doors

I feel there is no better place than the house of 109 doors, (Eureka Mansion for its formal name) to delve into the fascinating colonial history of Mauritius. Mauritius was claimed by France in 1715 and was administered by the French East India Company. The French government took control in 1767. In 1810 the island was captured by the British during the Napoleonic Wars. In the last blog we looked at how the British built their defences and this creole house was built in 1830 between the Moka river and Mount Ory. The house is perfectly sheltered among the local trees, and sits beneath the Mount which provides the most stunning back drop to this picturesque, colonial house (as I think you would agree from the pictures).

House of 109 doors

It was built by Mr. Carr, a British aristocrat, who wanted to be close to ‘Le Réduit’ (the Governor’s house – which is now, coincidently, home of the President of Mauritius). I’m led to believe that it was then sold to Mr & Mrs Robinson via an intermediary family before the Robinsons sold it in 1856 to Eugène Le Clézio. I must admit to being a little bit confused over these next stages of its history, so hopefully I have got this right. I believe that Eugène was the eldest son of François Alexis Le Clézio. When François visited the island and discovered the home, it was the home of his dreams and said Eureka! (reference Archimedes’ exclamation Eureka!). This family would remain owners of the house for the next 120 years. The family was to build its wealth on the island’s sugar industry. The house passed through the generations before finally being sold to 2 real estate agents in 1975. They only kept it for two months before Jacques Planteau de Maroussem and his in-laws bought it. Jacques’ mother-in-law was a grandchild of Sir Henry Le Clézio (son of Eugène) so the house was in family ownership once more.

 

The house was built completely out of wood. It is now a museum and provides a fascinating insight into 19th century Mauritius and the country’s plantation past. It certainly is a masterpiece of tropical construction. It is a real beauty to behold (look at that picture with the mountain behind the house). It was built using local ebony and mahogany wood and with some of the structural beams are made of tambalacoque wood (the seeds of this tree were eaten by the dodo). Two verandas were constructed. One points to the north (for the winter) and one to the south (for the summer). It is through the northern veranda that entrance to the house is made. As we walked into it we immediately felt like we had stepped back in time. Fine furniture and curious antiques were in each of the ground floor rooms. Particular sights of interest were an antique gramophone, and old camera and a piano (remembering my youth when lessons were regular, and I wish I hadn’t stopped playing) where we duly sat for a customary tourist photo. There was no kitchen in the house as it was made out of wood. This was a good design feature as this separate building was only a short way from the main house – fire prevention I guess.

     

We finally dragged ourselves out of the house to explore the grounds and gardens. Sprawling out in front of the southern porch was a lush green lawn which narrowed off at the far end. To the left was a secluded pathway that took you to the end of the garden. At the end of the path, there was a little area where we turned around to look back at that incredible view. Beautiful. Stunning location. The sun peeking through the clouds lit up this wonderful house, some of the 109 doors and windows gleaming like laser beacons at us. The small, planted area at the bottom of the garden looked like it had been constructed in the shape of a heart.

We left this dreamy Mauritian view and continued to follow the path. The path was to lead to the famous waterfalls that formed part of the estate. The path did change to a steep and uneven route which passed through Mauritian flora and fauna. Not being an expert on this, it was of little interest apart from providing shade from the beating sun. Along the way there was a sign that I’ve read before but is always a poignant reminder of the need to look nature. “Kill nothing but time. Leave only footprints. Take only pictures”. When we reached the bottom of our climb, we found 3 fine waterfalls but the fourth one didn’t look that impressive. We could have spent longer enjoying the therapeutic sounds of flowing water and bird song, but we were keen to see so much more so we walked quickly between the waterfalls before making the climb back the way we came. The heat certainly made harder work of the route, but we got back to the house invigorated but exhausted, hot and sweaty and in desperate need of a drink. We duly supported the local café/kitchen by buying a couple of drinks. We sat out on the northern porch and took a moment to ourselves before heading back to our patient driver who waited in the car for us. Join us as we move onto our next stop of this island.

 

Maison Eureka, Mount Ory Road, Eureka, Mount Ory, Moka VCA, East, Moka, 80825, Mauritius
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Martello Tower Museum

Leaving behind the physical and fun activities, it was now time to vary our excursions to do some educational exploration. We could have been daring and hired a car to explore the island but in holiday/honeymoon mode we were content with using a local taxi man (Jay) to drive us around and take a more laid-back approach. Jay was a recommendation from a fellow guest (they having used him on a taxi journey) and worked out a lot cheaper than booking through an online company or our hotel. This is clear evidence of the value of meeting and talking with people and not always relying on the internet – as if evidence were needed!! The internet has its uses but social media has changed the way we communicate, and that not for the better. Face to face communication is a dying art and its future doesn’t look bright based on the teens and twenties we see. We booked two day trips with Jay and split these into a day meandering into the north of the island and a day meandering around the middle and southern part of the island. After a few exchanged WhatsApp messages (the internet has its uses!!), we agreed on some places to visit one of which was the Martello Tower Museum.

Martello Tower Martello Tower

The first place I want to write about was the Martello tower. Our taxi was a smart Suzuki. Most cars we observed on our meanderings were modern and the roads on which we travelled were of good condition. We left the main road/highway before turning into the local housing, wondering where we might be headed. Jay was quick to point out a random sign saying that it was the right way. We parked up in what looked like a normal public car park – like we have back home. Directly in front of us was a mound and to the rear of us the tower. It was clear to see that the car park was ‘overseen’ by a short and stumpy tower. The addition of the car park meant that he local landscape was a lot different now compared to the time when the tower was built. We left the car immediately and made a beeline for the entrance to the Martello Tower. A little puzzled and amused at the need to rush in, all became clear. We quickly walked in and handed over the a pittance of an entry fee. The lady behind the counter, registered our visit before she went to the entrance and brought the prison cell like door shut and locked it up. Fearing an ambush/capture we were quickly put at ease when our driver (who accompanied us on the tour) explained that we were on a private tour and that we wouldn’t be disrupted as the door was locked. We quickly relaxed into the informative chat provided to us by our guide.

It is evident there has been some serious love, care and investment put into the restoration of this building. It shows an important past in the island’s history. Personally, I always find these places fascinating. I always try to visit anything that is British when on my meanderings. It was amazing to see how vast the British empire extended at its height. Was it not the largest empire known to man? A quarter of the world’s land area ‘belonged’ (there is a debate to be enjoyed about the use of this word!!) to the British back in 1913. Flights have made travel so much quicker and easier, but when the British captured these lands, it would have been some boat journey here.

When the British captured the island, they decided to build 5 Martello towers along the west coast in strategic locations near to river mouths as part of the coastal defence against a French invasion. At the time the French weren’t too happy with the British plans to abolish slavery. Building of the Martello Towers started in 1832 and were completed in just 3 years. This was just a couple of years before Queen Victoria came to the throne in 1837. The British based the Martello towers’ design on a tower they had been impressed with during a conflict against the French during a fierce battle at Mortella Bay, Corsica. The Brits were so impressed by these structures that they took them to all parts of the empire to aid its protection. The 5 Martello towers in Mauritius were never to see any military action.

Our guide was based on the current “entrance” level (I believe that this wasn’t the original entrance level). When we walked into the Martello Tower it was noticeable how thick the walls were. Some were 11 feet thick! The tower was built using basalt rock. Beneath this entrance level (which I will refer to as ground level), was a fascinating design. Underneath the floor we walked on was where the water was stored. Whether it was the Brits or an idea they had pinched, they managed to design a system that harvested the rainwater captured on the roof and then was stored beneath them. Our guide was quick to pull on a device which showed us the water still stowed beneath us through a glass viewing point. The entrance floor our guide was on would have housed the powder magazine. She showed us some of the ammunition types that would have been stored here on this level.

     

Our guide then took us up some stairs to the first floor, and as we entered it an impressive fan vault ceiling was seen. It was surprising to see this in a bright, white colour. This was the area where the soldiers would have lived and slept and where the original entrance was. The captain/general in charge had their own area constructed out of timber. This had been carefully restored to display a captain writing at his desk. Around the middle were several muskets and a cannon ball where you could try and guess the weight. My guess was hopelessly wrong. If you are ever there, take a close look at the ceiling as you can see the stalactites forming.

   

We left the digs (first floor) and made our way to the final floor, which was the roof. As we came out onto the roof of the Martello Tower, the original cannon was set up in place, and it had been lovingly restored. Our guide was able to explain how it gave the small garrison a 360-degree shot. It now resided pointing out to sea. In the distance was Morne Le Brabant. It certainly was a dreamy view for us (not surprising considering our walk up that famous mountain), but you could see the strategic view from back in the day. Standing there one could dream of a tall ship waiting in the bay to invade or bring supplies. Sadly, it was all rather peaceful.

This completed the end of our tour of Martello Tower. It was quick. I couldn’t fully listen partly due to the fact it was hard to understand everything that was said (there were some language barriers which made it hard to understand). Some online research was needed to help write this blog and assist with the education, however, we thoroughly enjoyed our visit to the tower and used the internet to compound what knowledge we acquired on the day!! We certainly learned a lot and would recommend it to anyone else who is visiting this wonderful island.

   Martello Tower  

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Tamarind Falls

The third and final part of our Mauritian adventures with Yanature (the tour company), was a half-day hike to the Tamarind Falls, also known as the 7 cascades. A must do apparently for anyone visiting the shores. Again, we had organised transport to pick us up from the hotel. We had a later pick up on this morning which was greatly appreciated! It meant we could enjoy breakfast before leaving.

The first hiccup of this trip occurred when we walked out, a taxi driver ushered us to jump in and he drove off hastily, clearly working to a tight time schedule. Half asleep we naively just followed him. Not until he left the complex did he and we realise that we weren’t the right guests for him to pick up, and he had to make a quick and embarrassing U-turn and return us to reception where our taxi was waiting. We quickly changed over before leaving for a second time. We then made the rather peaceful journey, inland and north of where we were staying.

On our arrival we were greeted by our hero Rowin, our guide from our first “hike”. Our mix up before we left meant we were the last to arrive, and this time we weren’t so lucky as to have our own personal tour. We were to be accompanied by two couples from Czechoslovakia, making us a group of 6 plus Rowin. We were dropped off on some fairly flat ground and on the edge of some sugar cane fields, we made our way around the edge of the crops. As we progressed, Rowin said that we were to take the small gap in the trees. Clearly this was a gap with which he was well acquainted. He had warned us that this hike wouldn’t be as difficult or technical as the mountain one which meant we were in relaxed spirits. We then started the descent down a steep track, using the trees, branches, roots and anything else we could lay our hands on for support (these would have been great on our first hike). Our hike was to navigate and see 5 of the cascades on the river Tamarin (see the second Mauritian second blog). Had we done the full day hike we would have seen all 7.

We arrived at the top of what was the second cascade, and clearly the highest point of the river we were to see. The area a hub of activity, as different tours were setting up or off. If the first cascade was also here it wasn’t that impressive as we didn’t even notice it, I fear it may have been nothing we hadn’t seen before. On the edge of the flowing water we walked around a few groups who were evidently going to be taking a more direct route to view the waterfalls. Rowin encouraged us to come close to the edge to look over the waterfall. We were going to get used to this as it happened again and again throughout the hike. Hannah watched from safe ground and at a distance as I laid down to peer over. I’m sure there are more daring “travellers” out there who will try to capture a more daring shot. I was happy just to say that I had peered over.

Customary snaps captured we found a safe place to cross the flowing water and started to make our way down the steep forest to the bottom of the 2nd cascade/waterfall. We zigzagged our way down, Rowin carefully guiding us as we dodged trees and stumps. Some of our other group’s members shoes probably weren’t appropriate as they tackled this section. As we came down we began to realise that we were going to be walking behind the waterfall. Whenever this happens it is an incredible experience. There were a couple of viewing points where we could grab a picture of the water falling from above. Rowin informed us that when we got to the bottom we could go for a swim. Already sweating in the heat this was music to my ears. We skirted our way around the edges to find our own little spot where we could gain access into the natural pool. I stripped off, climbed on top of the rock as I was told before jumping out into the pool. So cool and refreshing. I swam around the pool, before swimming underneath the falling water. I returned to the others and quickly dried off so we could carry on.

We left waterfall/cascade number 2. An impressive drop of water we hoped that the rest would be equally as impressive. For the moment we had done the serious descending, we went through some trees and navigated a muddy section before we arrived at the third waterfall. This one was tucked away on the other side from where we were hiking so wasn’t as impressive as the second one, we had just left behind. We quickly captured our custom photos.

Sadly the 4th waterfall wasn’t that impressive either, on our approach there was a pool where a few people had stopped and whipped off their shoes for a natural fish pedicure (personally I couldn’t think of anything worse) but it did lead us to the top of 5th and final waterfall we would be visiting. Again, there was a ledge where the water was falling, now more confident we were able to grab a spot near the edge for a photo, Hannah more confident and daring now, Rowin as always, our willing photographer.

Photo’s duly taken we made our final descent around the edge of the water through the local foliage to arrive at the final destination. By now we were all ready to cool off. We quickly stripped off and a combination of sliding graciously in and bombing were witnessed. I managed to climb up a little bit of the waterfall for a full shower this time before bombing off. Nature’s gift provides much more fun than the latest smart phone or video game. After playing about in cool and fresh water, we climbed out, and, after navigating the uncomfortable ground back to our clothes, got ourselves ready to descend back to civilization.

Before we left the river, Rowin wanted to show us the top of the sixth cascade which I think was perhaps the most impressive. It certainly looked the highest of all the ones that we saw. Hannah, invigorated from her swim and hike through nature’s playground, was brave enough to join me to peer over the edge. It certainly looked a long way down and can see why it was a full day hike to complete all 7. Perhaps next time we can tick those final two off.

                 

As the saying goes, what goes up must go down, or should I change it to what goes down must go up, sadly we had done the down first so we needed to get back up to starting point, where those sugar cane fields were. Rowin led the way and picked a gap in the trees which was an apparent path to the top. No struggling this time for us both, we were able to relax and enjoy this thoroughly compared to our experience on the mountain. Our only mistake was not re-applying the mossie spray, as they could clearly tell we weren’t local. We finally reached the top, after what seemed an age when we came out further into the sugar cane fields, we had earlier started in.

We walked slowly along a designated flat footpath back to where all the cars parked, and our taxi was waiting. It was here that we had to say goodbye to our guide, Rowin. He had been superb!! He provided us with two thrilling days of adventure, and certainly had taken us out of our comfort zones. Both days beat sleeping on a sun lounger. I’m sure we will keep in touch – he and his son are big Man Utd fans (yes I know that isn’t much fun these days). He is a fan of modern technology so this makes this cheap and easy to stay in touch. Common ground shared and a friendship built through travel is what travel is all about.

Join us as our next set of blogs as we look at some of the places we visited on taxi tours of the island.

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Tamarin Trawling

Tales of our second trip will seem tame in comparison to those of our first adventure. Another early wake up was required for today’s activity (so much for relaxing). We were picked up at 0530 by taxi. It was the same driver that we had already met. We meandered our way a little further back up the west coast than we reached in yesterday’s trip to our next meeting point. You could feel the sun was rising, although we couldn’t see it yet. As each minute passed, the darkness that we experienced as we set off began to dissipate. There is something truly magical about watching or being awake for the sunrise. A glorious sunrise is spellbinding and often captivating It is certainly a great start to a new day and gives a chance to reflect and be grateful for another day. It provides inspiration to live for the day.

The sun was rising behind the mountains that covered the terrain on this part of the island. We arrived at the former fishing location of Tamarind Bay. The fishing economy having long gone, this was now a tourist hub for watersports. Laying peacefully in the bay were jet boats that would take tourists out onto the crystal-clear waters in sporting pursuit of mother nature. Our day was going to be by paddle power. We ignored the boats as we left our activity centre carrying our sea kayak. Tired though we were, we were both excited and invigorated by this new holiday hobby we had embraced. This day was a stark contrast to the first time I booked Hannah onto such an activity in California. We made our way to the water’s edge. We waited for another couple to join us and for our guide. The beach wasn’t as clean as the one at our hotel. There was more seaweed here. We put our toes in the sea to get used to its temperature whilst a couple of local dogs ran merrily around the beach chasing each other. Such energy for first thing in the morning and a reminder of what we had left behind in England.

Our guide arrived, not with a kayak but a paddle board along with the other couple. We quickly established that they were French, and our poor guide was going to have to speak in both English and French as both couples weren’t strong enough in a second language. We had a quick lesson / recap on how to kayak and the importance of working together in unison, before pushing in the kayaks and jumping on. Someone had made a joke that kayaking can be the grounds of serious disagreements that tests the strength of a relationship!! This may have been true the first time we tried this out but this time we were quietly confident of our ability to have a good time. As we left the shoreline the sun was just peeping up over the mountains to say hello. The sun rose higher with each stroke, to keep us very warm.

We paddled our way out to the entrance of the bay, on what must be said were very calm waters. To our left was the mountain (Le Morne Brabrant) that we had climbed the previous day and to our right was the start of one of the island’s famous coast lines called Flic en Flac. Behind us, I believe, were the mountains called Trois Mamelles (literal French translation – 3 udders) and Rempart (French for fortification).

The main reason for kayaking out here was that this was a renowned feeding ground for the local dolphins. They must have known that we were coming and decided that other local bays would be more appealing than showing us their playful nature. We waited patiently bobbing up and down on the ocean. We shared stories with our guide, who was also a big fan of Italy. Today wasn’t our day – the other bays must have been preferred – and our guide suggested instead that we return to the shore and picked up the river that flowed into the bay and kayak upstream. We all agreed and turned and headed for land. I must confess that I couldn’t see where we had started so we had to have full trust in our guide that we were paddling in the right direction. By now the sunshine was there but a stiff morning breeze was blowing the wrong way for us. We certainly had to power our way back to the shore.

Upon arrival, we climbed out of our crafts and dragged them through the very shallow mouth of the river. It was noticeable how quickly the water colour changed from the ocean blue to the brown and murky river. Once we cleared the shallow water we jumped back in the kayaks and made our way upstream of the Rivière du Rempart. This was one of two rivers that converged at the shoreline with the other being the Rivière Tamarin. It so happened that we were to explore more of this river on the next day on our third outing (watch out for the blog on this).

Back to our exploration of the river Rempart we noted that there were large houses belonging to wealthy people that were dotted on one side of the riverbank as we set off up stream. Every now and again a deafening noise of birds or local building works would disrupt the solitude. As we passed the final house our guide was quick to point out that this was one of the most important house on the island. It belonged to the head of the Christian church of Mauritius. A beautiful red roof rested on the arches surrounding the outer porch. There were well-maintained lawns. Through these arches a cross with Jesus on was clearly visible.

It was here that we left civilization and went more into an overgrown area. I was expecting Tarzan to swing in front of us as we ducked low level tree branches. We swerved around the low level rocks. Our guide informed us this was a place that he would come to escape, chill and relax. How true this is I will never know but it certainly wasn’t a place for us as we would have been eaten alive by the mossies. So, we thankfully turned the kayak around before we retraced our steps (sorry I mean strokes) back to the confluence of the two rivers with the sea. It was here that I was becoming fascinated with a local bird a ‘striated heron’, I believe. They were everywhere you looked.

Sadly, our time on the kayak had come to an end, which was good job as we were now both starting to feel rather hungry, and the mossies were certainly getting well fed on us. These early morning starts are great, but they mean missing breakfast at the hotel!! On a positive note, the early start means that one is back in time to spend the rest of the day lounging around, which isn’t a bad thing.

Watch out for our next adventure as we combine the water and the hiking.

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Mauritian Mountain

We had arrived in Mauritius, the destination of our honeymoon. Our route involved a stopover in Nairobi. Getting out of Nairobi airport was an experience that I wouldn’t wish upon any traveller. Our residence for the next 14 nights was the very impressive Heritage Awali Golf resort and Spa in the Bel Ombre and South western corner of the island.

   

Every morning, we would walk along the beach after breakfast. It felt good to at least stretch our legs before finding a suitable location to lay down and rest for the day (even the local stray dog would do the same). Lying there we would look out on the beach and enjoy the same view each day. The wind would push the clouds every now and again and bring with it the odd outbreak of rain (we somehow managed to miss a passing cyclone). Ignore this threat of bad weather and picture a postcard, if you will. At the forefront are white sandy beaches, beautiful tall palm trees, and the backdrop is the ocean. The ocean was a fascinating two-tone colour highlighting the coral reef with which the bay was associated. Resting completely soulless on the water were a few boats. They looked somewhat as we felt – calm and relaxed and, I dream here, like us enjoying the fact they had nothing to do. The holiday vibes are encapsulated in this one view – a total escape from the mundane life back home. In the far distance, when the cloud and rain didn’t hide it, you could just make out the top of a mountain. The name of that mountain was Le Morne Brabant with its apex just peeking above the trees. How many people were blissfully unaware of its existence in our hotel I wonder?

A book was enjoyed, along with a couple of beverages, conversations were had, and new acquaintances were made. Life felt good, but something was missing. We’re not ones to easily sit still and there was an itch that was getting bigger as the days went on. We wanted to escape that zen and explore and learn about this island that we had chosen as a honeymoon destination. We had taken the hotel bikes out for an exploratory trip along the coast in an easterly direction the day before. This had whetted the appetite.

     

I found a local company (Yanature) with which to book a guided tour of Le Morne Brabant, completely unaware of the mountain’s significance to the island’s history. The tour was booked as we love walking, and the mountain was close by and registered as easy/medium difficulty. A couple of nights before our planned ascent we sat around a fire as entertainers breathed fire, sang songs and beat the drums. We had made friends with another honeymoon couple who were going to complete the hike the next morning. We duly met up with them the following evening to listen to tales of their adventures. It became apparent that our guide was going to be essential and that this wasn’t going to be “walk/hike” as we thought it might have been. Their tales certainly worried Hannah and me. How much we slept, I do not know; I certainly lay in bed contemplating the fear and stress for I had managed to sign up and take Hannah as well.

We woke bright and early. I say ‘bright’ loosely; it was still fairly dark at this point. The rest of the hotel was certainly sleeping as we made our way through the hotel for our 0515 taxi pick up. The taxi driver very kindly drove us to a deserted shopping mall where we were to meet our guide. Our taxi guide shared stories about how he had climbed it along with most of the locals. Our guide (Rowin) arrived a little later than us, then we followed him to our parking point. We got out of the cars, completed the introductions and signed the waiver. We then left the parking area and started making our way into a wooded area and onto a track which led us up the ‘mountain’. When I think of mountain I think of something in excess of 1000m high. The highest point on this trip was to be 500m, 56m short of the summit!! Sounded easy!!

    

The early stages provided us with great shelter from the rising sun. Every now and again there was a gap in the local flora and beautiful views of the lagoon we had left behind were seen. At about the halfway stage on the ascent we took rest on a couple of benches. Bins overflowing caused Rowin to express his anger. It was here that we left the walking we envisaged it might have been to the top and started climbing! As we approached the technical section there didn’t appear to be an obvious route to the top. Rowin (who runs up and down the mountain for fun!) clearly knew which way to go. For an experienced climber this second part of the ascent would have seemed easy. We, however, were tourists. Rowin began to realise that we were proper tourists with a lack of hiking/climbing experience!! We both had a steely level of determination to reach the top and thoughts of nothing else would be contemplated. We crawled and climbed our way up the first section, Rowin directing our hands and feet movements. I believe at this point Hannah informed the Rowin that she wasn’t good with heights. I appeared to be fine with all this, which was surprising when you consider I had struggled up the Eiffel tower and the Golden Gate bridge and Hannah had loved both experiences. What we didn’t realise was that we were following in the footsteps of Maroons (this was called the slave route). The island has no natives. Most people were brought to the island through the slave trade. These people managed to escape the sugar plantations and slavery and used the mountain and trees to hide/live from their masters. When the soldiers/masters came up the mountain looking for them, some decided that rather than be caught they would jump off the mountain and die rather than be recaptured.

After completing the first technical section we arrived at a pinch point. This was an exposed area of the mountain where the views where incredible and on both sides of the mountain. On the one side was the view of the lagoon, and on the other side a view of the west coast of Mauritius with Benitiers island standing out (I mention this as we visited this island later in the trip and this is going to be the subject of another blog). We enjoyed the views and we could even see an eagle flying. I must admit to not wanting to look at it and purely focus on completing the last and stressful part. Rowin made a joke with Hannah that when we reached the top he would make the phone call for the helicopter to come and collect us. She looked at him with a sense of true optimism, but, alas, he was trying to provide some kind of joke and some added fun to the experience.

 

We waited for a group to descend before we took off for the final climb. It was short and sharp. Hands and feet were both essential to complete the climb. We zigzagged our way to the top. A white cross a sign of reaching the top. We collapsed on the floor and took stock for a while before we slowly grew some courage to take some pictures. Upon completing the formalities, we turned to realise that what must go up must come down. There was going to be no helicopter to provide us with an easily way out. Rowin led the way, helping Hannah with every step of the way. The short sharp final section completed we stopped so I could take a few more pictures before we started the long descent of the technical part. We crabbed on front and back as we descended the steep staircase. Rowin expertly providing us with the exact locations to put our hands and feet. At times he would stop us to help both individuals and couples who had attempted to tackle the climb on their own without a guide. They looked even more touristy than we did. One certainly felt without Rowin we would not have made it. After what seemed like an age, we made it on to solid ground. No longer did we need to use our hands as much as our feet. We retraced our steps back along the path through the trees and back to the car. We thanked Rowin; he had been superb. He very kindly informed us that we would be seeing him again on another adventure we had booked with the company. This was great and reassuring to hear. We jumped back in our taxi and returned to the hotel before noon. After a quick shower and a return to our beach wear, we made our way back to that postcard view. This time though we had a story to share, a sense of achievement, which meant the drinks were more of a reward than a mere social lubricant.

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Coronation Church

Blog writing is a journey. What may have started as a set of reports about trips made to many destinations has developed. Speaking generally – to write about a trip to a place with a sunny climate to spend time on the beach presents no real challenge and this was realised early in the journey, but, with increased age, an awareness and pursuit of delightful places to explore, observations to be made, history to be learnt, etc., has happened. This has not been by chance but by design.

London is not a sun seeker’s destination – certainly not in April. Not too many beaches there either but, with care, the mind can be broadened by a trip there. By now seasoned followers will have gathered that a long list of London landmarks that I would love to see has been formulated. In this blog I try to explore and investigate an architectural wonder but on walking away from the site I have a thousand more questions than I had when I entered. That’s not a bad thing. It is good to question.

Now, I am not averse to entering a church, abbey or cathedral. I find them good places to calm down and contemplate life. Often, I am there alone with my thoughts but on this occasion (as was the case in July 2022 at St Paul’s cathedral) I was there with my father. He, like me, was bowled over by the fact that a timed entrance slot had to be pre-booked and further surprised to see so many people inside Westminster Abbey. There were significantly more people inside this building than there were in the height of summer at its neighbour on the hill. This was the first difference but, immediately on entering, our minds raced back to our previous experience together (I paid for him that time as well!!) and noted each further difference with each step that was taken as we were shepherded on a one-way system around the building. It was all rather regimented but necessary due to the volume of foot traffic.

Perhaps it was the phenomenal number of things to see, the multitude of tombs/memorials of/to famous people to locate and the number of visitors sharing the experience with us that contributed to a feeling of confusion. I was completely baffled by it all and I don’t think that my dad was too far behind me (I refer to his feelings rather than his walking pace!!).

The building is very famous, strikingly beautiful and massively interesting. To me it was an intriguing and beguiling place. To us Brits there seems to be a lack of appreciation or willingness to visit such iconic places but to foreign tourists, there appears to be incredible levels of fascination. The ‘abbey’ is situated in the heart of central London, in the city of Westminster (some people refer to Westminster as one of its boroughs, however, I call it one of London’s two cities) and a short walk from the River Thames. It stands
proudly alongside the Houses of Parliament with the Supreme Court nearby. The first question I have is – is there a link between all three? It is left open ended as I search for the answer to this and many other questions.

We in England, and I speak generally, associate what transpires at Westminster Abbey as the apparent religious heartbeat of the nation. Perhaps even this statement is a basis for debate. This was my first visit inside the building and, possibly my father’s first as well (he may have been taken inside the building as young lad by my grandfather but that would have taken many years ago!!). Both of us had witnessed (via the TV!!) special occasions with people dressed appropriately and ushered to a set place according to a
seating plan and not one of them wearing headphones. The pomp and circumstance of these occasions are manifest in a carefully scripted programme that leaves the TV viewer, to our minds, focused on the people involved, the music that is played, the words that are spoken/sung and the way they are delivered, the colour, the pageantry, the precision, etc., rather than the surroundings. Now we saw the building from a different angle alongside people from all over the world and there are no complaints. The experience was not to be missed and thoroughly enjoyed. The trip to St Paul’s was on a Friday, I believe. This was a Saturday. Did the change in the day of our visits have anything to do with the marked difference in footfalls? Perhaps that is something to be considered ahead of a return visit.

From my point of view the experience was eye opening, sometimes jaw dropping but a rather confusing visit. There was no dome that required craned necks to see the inner detail and then to climb to stand on it and view London from a never-before-seen angle. There was no crypt that we found that housed memorials to the famous and noble. And yet there were plenty of ornate memorials to kings and queens that were above ground so to speak. Notwithstanding the beauty and the splendour of the things seen, I came away with a range of thought-provoking observations.

Church, Abbey or Cathedral?

You may question this question as there is a clue in the name. Westminster Abbey is in fact its historical name or should I say nickname. So no, it is not an abbey. Confused? Bear with me. I’m sure we’re well aware of the reformation during the reign of Henry VIII, where he famously broke away from the Roman Catholic church though not for the same reasons as, say, Martin Luther. He and others ruthlessly ravaged, and destroyed and dissolved many of this country’s abbeys, and took a lot of their wealth and land. When we picture an abbey we see romantic ruins and not a perfectly kept building. Maybe Westminster Abbey survived the iconoclasm of the 16th century due to its incredible royal connections and the fact that Henry VIII’s father, Henry VII, is buried here. I’m led to believe that it was re-founded as a cathedral after those dissolution days and spent a few years changing back and forth from an abbey to a church, but when Elizabeth I acceded the throne over ten years after her father died, she made it a church and a royal peculiar and it has remained such ever since. So contrary to its name, it’s neither abbey nor cathedral. There is a Westminster Cathedral but that it is another building a little further down the street. Westminster Abbey is, in fact, a church and it’s real name is Collegiate Church of St Peter at Westminster. That begs another question – what is a collegiate church? Let us consider this new term that I have encountered.

Royal Peculiar

For the next part of this blog, I had to resort to reading books and guides (which is not a bad thing) as it soon became clear after the visit that I understood very little about what I had seen. My father has lived significantly longer than I and is equally not averse to entering churches recognizing in them places to learn, among other things, about our rich history. He had never heard of ‘Royal particular’ either. What is one of these? The questions were coming thick and fast and the desire and need to learn came with them.
Much, if not all, of this knowledge is gleaned from reading books and guides. This church is owned by the monarch. It is another jewel in his crown and possibly the reason for it being so impeccably maintained. I am not yet able to understand the workings of the church of England. Perhaps after some really serious studying I can explore this in a separate blog. All we need to know is that this church doesn’t belong to a diocese (areas of the country in the care of a bishop) or answer to any bishop but instead to the monarch. This means that the Dean of Westminster runs the show and not a bishop. The Dean of Westminster features in the ceremonial occasions that take place at this prestigious building. Here’s another question I have to investigate – what is the difference between a dean and a bishop, an archbishop even, for the archbishop of Canterbury performs most royal ceremonies at Westminster Abbey?

Mausoleum?

For a layman it is hard to see how this is a place of worship. I would hazard a guess that the majority of visits are made to look at the graves to learn about English history and to admire the architecture rather than worship God. To be fair, that was the purpose of our visit and we were in no way disappointed. It was staggering to learn that over 3000 people are buried in the abbey and there seemed to be countless other memorials that occupy the available space. Upon entering the building, one feels small and dwarfed, a forgotten person, a mere mortal as the great marble statues of illustrious 18th  & 19th  century prime ministers loom high above the recent entrant in the reception area. There was a statue of Disraeli – his form is hard to miss. I remember seeing a statue of Robert Peel. There was a monument to William Pitt. These are perhaps excessive and over the top, but best sum up, in my opinion, the nature of the place. The presence of these statues be the confirmation of the political and religious links of the two neighbours. As one is borne along with the crowd, it is vital to constantly look down, up, left, and right, as with each step a grave or monument is seen and it is easy to memorials to really famous people. Stephen Hawking’s grave is a particular favourite of many of the visitors to the church. My own fascination is with the former monarchs of the land. At the very centre of the church is the resting place of Edward the Confessor. He was perhaps not laid to rest in this place as he was moved several times, and he was believed to be responsible for miracles and favoured by God. Edward the Confessor is surrounded by 5 kings and 4 queens. He is now laid to rest in St Edwards the Confessor’s Chapel. He died in early 1066 and his death triggered the events that led up to what we know affectionately as ‘1066 and all that’.

Henry VII Lady Chapel

To the east of Confessor’s chapel is the jaw dropping and glorious Lady Chapel. A truly spectacular and astonishing architectural achievement. Calling it splendid doesn’t do it justice – it is that sublime. I can’t recall ever walking into a place and being so amazed at what I saw. For a moment, a lengthy one at that, I was completely spell bound. The level of detail and expense put into such a place can see why it was described in 1545 as ‘the wonder of the entire world’ and a century later as ‘one of the stateliest and daintiest monuments of Europe.’ Questions flooded into the mind – what is a lady chapel? Why at the east end of the building? Why behind the main altar? Why are most churches built on an east west axis? How did the people back in the 15 th century construct these buildings (I refer to the fabulous fan vaulting in particular)? I am told that the lady chapel is built in perpendicular style (what does this mean?) with its most striking feature its fan vaulted ceiling. I hope the pictures do it justice. The flags add tremendous colour to the perfectly crafted yellow looking stone. Is this next sentence too strong? I implore you to visit it yourself. It is truly magnificent. There are a further 15 kings and queens buried in here alone, including Henry VII and his wife, Elizabeth I and her sister queen Mary.

Coronation Church

The recent coronation of King Charles III was the 40th to have taken place in the church and provided further incredible evidence of our long-standing traditions. This dates back to the first coronation taking place at Westminster Abbey on December 25th 1066 (funny day to choose but maybe Christmas was celebrated in the same way or on the same day back then) when William the Conqueror decided to reinforce his claim to the throne. All the future monarchs have taken the oath here apart from two, the boy king (Edward VI) and the king who abdicated (Edward VIII). There are, no doubt, many tales of these coronations where it was not the perfect spectacle that we witnessed (albeit by TV) in May 2023. Thinking of the previous coronation on June 2nd 1953, my father wasn’t even born and, though there is footage of the events of that day (it was very wet outside I was told by an aged aunt), these seem to be of the placing of the crown upon Queen Elizabeth’s head and not of the rather weird parts of the ceremony that lead up to the crowning event. That day taught me a lot via the TV screen. I am still confused in that during the coronation ceremony it was not the dean, head (if that is the right term) of the most important church in the land, but the Archbishop of Canterbury who placed the crown upon Charles’s head. As we know, the coronation uses one of the most famous pieces of furniture in the world. It is over 700 years old and can be seen in a corner of the church, well protected by surrounding glass. This was removed during World War II when London was under attack from the air in the Blitz and taken to Gloucester cathedral and, no doubt,
stored in the crypt there.

Gothic Masterpiece

Construction of the church that we see today began in the 13 th  century by Henry III when he decided to rebuild the church that had been raised under Edward the Confessor’s direction. He laid the foundations before running out of money!! The church was not finished when he died. The building is a masterpiece of Gothic architecture but what does this mean? Similar great projects were underway across medieval Britain and Europe in the middle of the 13th  Century. The lady chapel was not started until the early part of the 16th Century and took 10 years to complete some six years after Henry VII died and his charismatic son assumed the throne.  General observations I’m always in awe of the arches, the stained-glass windows (did we see many of these at either St Paul’s or Westminster Abbey?), the monumental tombs and ceilings that adorn the many churches and cathedrals in our land. There are terms which I still do not understand – it seems like a different language is used in these places and, by this, I mean all Church of England buildings that I have visited, and others as yet not seen – but I will find out. Whether I remember them or not is another matter. For some examples, what is a reredos (how is it even pronounced?)? What is a chancel (the spell checker wants to put in the word chance!!)? What does it mean? Where is it located? A nave? A transept? A misericord? A cathedra? A quire? A rood screen? The pelican in her piety? The lamb with the flag? The green man? The list is lengthy and this does not contain questions about other people who run these churches and cathedrals.

This building is a masterpiece but is by no means the only architectural wonder in Britain. Arches, both small and large, are spread in perfect unison from north to south side. Stained-glass windows adorn spaces along with windows providing natural light. Some of these were made in medieval times. Presumably the golden coloured dividing structure between nave and quire (?) and adorned with a memorial to Sir Isaac Newton to one side of the part that faces west is the rood screen, but it is quite unlike the beautifully carved wooden though narrower ones that are prevalent in churches throughout the land. Almost everything is confusing despite its undoubted beauty. The lady chapel is the jewel in this crown though the rood screen (I call it this not knowing if I use the right term) is marvellous. I am left thinking that if the fan vaulting has been made these 500 years or more, what could we construct in 2024 that looked anywhere near as nice and that would stand the test of time.

Another London landmark seen and many more to go – watch out for the next one! Coronation church is certainly a favourite.

Conclusions

This is starting to read like a report now but my (our) visit challenged me (us) to look beyond the narrative and explore what I was seeing. I hope that I have raised some interesting thoughts about this place and lesser places like it and perhaps inspired you to get out and explore. I’ve learnt about a royal peculiar and not I alone! I have delved deeper into the history of our monarchy and left with some puzzlement over the makeup of the church. An increased appreciation of architecture and construction grows with every visit as I try to learn and understand these engineering feats. I could and probably should have written a lot more but will hopefully leave you wanting to explore these places for yourself.

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Victoria’s Birthplace

On a late summer’s Sunday, we took the opportunity to expand our knowledge and view of London’s landmarks by ticking another off our ‘must see’ list. Kensington Palace is a lesser-known building than some of the city’s more iconic ones. It is the second royal residence in London behind Buckingham Palace.

Kensington Palace clearly lacks the pomp and circumstance associated with other royal residences of the land. There are no red coats at the gate, or visible police presence protecting a so-called palace. We can only recall the odd statement from a palace security guard warning of pickpockets!! Our visit seemed slightly surreal as autumn seemed ever closer there was a real warmth and friendliness amongst the crowds of people wandering the palace and grounds. It certainly drew more of a crowd than we were anticipating.

The palace is nestled on the outer western boundary of Kensington Gardens which are joined to Hyde Park. Some way from the central sights of London, it certainly is a long walk from central (downtown for you Yanks) London, however, we made the short walk from Paddington station. Upon arriving one sees a statue of one of our most famous monarchs, Queen Victoria. Her connection with this palace was our main reason for visiting. Queen Victoria was born and raised at the palace and this connection is shown throughout the first part of the residence.

We walked through the first set of rooms of the palace which are associated with Queen Victoria. They were bland and plain, though Victoria’s father thought differently when he wrote this in a letter on the day that she was born there, “The apartment could not have been more comfortable, calm, close to the town but with the view over the most magnificent park with a beautiful bit of water”. It is very hard to disagree with this opinion as the view from the window of ‘the pond’ is, indeed, beautiful. The modern metropolis that now surrounds the pond in the distance brings a different perspective from yesteryear. There is a plaque by a window on a wall that reads ‘In this room Queen Victoria was born May 24th, 1819’. By all accounts, Victoria had a very lonely and unhappy childhood through no fault of her own. She was manipulated and controlled by her mother’s partner and clearly out of favour with her uncle, the Prince of Wales, who effectively was king due to his father’s health and who became king George IV early the following year.

It is sad to think that Victoria was left hidden away here, and, even sadder, that this treatment was possibly a sort of punishment. Sir John Conroy was definitely a favourite of Victoria’s mother, Lady Flora Hastings. The potential was there for a young Victoria to become queen and Conroy realised this. Could it be that the introduction of ’The Kensington System Rules’, a set of strict regulations imposed on young Victoria, were designed to bring her under his control so that when she acceded the throne, he, in effect, had control of the Empire? Whatever his mindset we know that any such manipulation backfired on him for he was banished from the Royal household as soon as Victoria became queen. The rules are displayed on one of the walls for all visitors to see. Perhaps her closest friend during her childhood stay here was her furry friend Dash. Another couple of noticeable items on display are jewels (one of which was designed for Prince Albert as a gift) and a dolls’ house (which is a scale version of Kensington Palace). At around 0600 on the 20th June 1837, Victoria was woken to be informed she was Queen and to make her way to the Red Saloon to meet the Privy Council. The Red Saloon remains and houses a painting of that famous meeting.

After visiting the Palace, the main attraction for me became the state apartments. These certainly felt grander than the Victoria rooms. A visit allows one to explore and educate oneself on a period of our British monarchy’s history of which I was previously unaware. When William III and Mary II, who were our first and only joint sovereigns decided to move here, they purchased a Jacobean mansion formerly known as Nottingham House (built in 1605 by Sir George Coppin). At the time of purchase, it was a two-story Jacobean mansion and was clearly going to require some work. They instructed Sir Christopher Wren to complete works on this mansion and to enlarge it to become a palace. Sir Christopher decided that to save time and money, he would keep the original house intact and add three story pavilions at each of the 4 corners.

Mary II’s sister (Queen Anne) would go on to finish these works and make significant improvements to the gardens. This included the construction of the Orangery (now a restaurant offering elegant lunches or indulgent afternoon tea). The Queen’s apartments include a staircase, gallery, closet, dining room, drawing room & a bedroom. Compared to the King’s apartments they come across very bland and basic. The King’s apartments are, in our opinion, the most appealing part of the palace.

The penultimate monarch to fully live here (George I) spent lavishly on the palace. What is seen here is the staircase, the presence chamber, the privy chamber, the cupola room, drawing room and the King’s gallery. The staircase immediately attracts one’s attention upon entrance. This grand entrance is a must see and was painted by William Kent as a vivid recreation of George I’s court. The other room which is superb, splendidly decorated and worthy of admiration is the Cupola room. This was the work of William Kent and his first commission. On looking upwards, the fictive coffered dome with the centre piece of the Star of the Order of the Garter is seen. This beautiful room was home to lavish parties given by George II, but in 1819 the baptism of Princess Victoria also took place here.

Our tour of Kensington Palace was complete but as we left, we walked around the grounds as everyone can do without purchasing an entrance ticket. Maybe this is where those pickpockets lie in wait!!

Our impression is that the beauties of this palace are relatively unknown, but, in our opinion, is testament to 300 fascinating years of royal history. As palaces go, it did seem to come across as more of a home and most definitely when in the Victoria rooms. The Queen’s apartments stir up the thoughts of being in a palace, but it was the king’s staircase and cupola room that give this place its ‘wow’ factor.

As we left London again, it was with a slight spring in our step. Another summer has passed by and we have completed another fascinating, educational and inspirational visit that has more than satisfied our curiosity and we are encouraged to return to this great city for more visual treats by way of our further education.

     

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A Tuscan Fairytale

The sun is sinking in the west, its rays radiating an array of colours that light up the sky. The sound of enjoyment and the chink of glasses combine with nature’s evening song to disturb the peaceful end to the day. Each evening we both take a moment to appreciate not only nature’s final daily display but the sight of our friends and families together as one.

Whisper it very quietly, but we have a secret to share (and one we hope remains a sort of secret!). This is a place with which we fell in love the moment we saw it and now a place we will never forget, and one that will live long in the memories. This place oozes warmth, generosity and friendship. It’s almost secretly but idyllically set in the Crete Senesi region, among the clay hills south of Siena and near the Arbia River. Here lies the romantic and intimate Castello di San Fabiano.

Our fairytale gave birth to new friendships, strengthened existing ones and opened the eyes of many to our fascination with travel and history. This castle has a rich and diverse history. It takes the form of a small hamlet and like most places with a long-standing history was built around a small church of which we have proof dates to 867 AD. The small and enchanting church was a stopping place for pilgrims and is dedicated to St. Fabian, to the pope and to martyrs. There is an apse from the 9th century, some of it may be dated to the Romanesque era,  and a façade was completed in the 18th century. I’m sure as we continue to revisit, we will spend some more time with Andrea, the present owner, and learn and explore its full history, but he did mention on a memorable night on the day after our wedding that there is a document confirming this very early date.

Between the church and the castle are the beautiful gardens that surround the castle on all sides. These charming gardens played host to our coming together, with nature in abundance and the aromas of rose bushes and lemon trees which have been planted amongst the cypress trees giving that beautiful Tuscan vibe. The castle was built to protect the nearby ford as this was one of the only passing places along the river apart from a Roman bridge a bit further downstream. The fortifications that took place meant that the towers were created to assist with communication with nearby Siena. The towers that are seen today were built at the turn of the 13th century, and a visit to the highest accessible point is a must to sit and savour a glass of wine as the sun sets. You can see all of Siena’s skyline as the sun sets behind it and perhaps you can think about picking up the fire signals of yesteryear. The castle did see some “action” when the king of Naples army laid siege in 1409 AD. They decided that this would be a perfect post station for the long journey from Naples to Paris. It then passed into the hands of the powerful Sienese family for the next 500 or so years before changing hands a few times to be purchased by the Fiorentini family.

We can be grateful to Andrea’s father (Giovani’s grandfather) for purchasing it and to the family for their continued labour of love that they have invested and continue to take on to preserve such a charming place. Spending time with the family is an honour and privilege to learn about the place. Perhaps the castle and the surrounding countryside is a secret that is worth keeping to ourselves but we have started to share not only its location but its vibrancy on our recent big event and have been surprised to see how many accepted the invitation to come and now, perhaps, share an admiration for such a place. Words perhaps can’t describe how much this place means to us both; we hope it won’t be long until we return.

 

Castello di San Fabiano, Crete Senesi Gravel Ritorno, Monteroni d'Arbia, Siena, Tuscany, 53014, Italy
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Mayan Masterpiece

Chichén-Itzá – not to be confused with chicken at Itsu.

How can you say that you have been to the Yucatán peninsula if you’ve not visited the archaeological site of Chichén-Itzá? Drag yourself away from the white powdery beaches of the Mayan Riviera   and you will be blessed with an education about the classical and post classical periods of world history. It provides answers to a curiosity about the rise and fall of the Mayan, Toltec and the Mesoamerica civilisations and cultures.

I’m struggling to learn and understand the history of my own homeland, let alone delve into the history of another country, but isn’t this what travelling does to us? We get opportunities to learn and explore different cultures that have evolved and then shaped the world in which we live today. I confess that prior to this trip that the Mesoamerican era meant absolutely nothing to me, which is surprising as I had visited this place before. This trip fed that inquisitive instinct to learn about new places. To my way of thinking I feel like the explorers and pirates of yesteryear who set off not knowing what was over the horizon. The French, British and Spanish discovered much of the east coast of the Northern and central America, but it was the Spanish who arrived, explored and conquered the Yucatán peninsula.

When the name Chichén-Itzá is mentioned or searched then the Temple of Kukulkan immediately comes to mind. The temple that everyone is obsessed with is in the heart of the Chichén-Itzá site. Chichén-Itzá provides an obscure look into the history of Mayan. The site is still an active archaeological site with discoveries being made continually. Speaking to locals and reading different sources of information will provide the enquirer with many myths and mysteries of the site. Carlos, our guide on this trip, seemed to have his own versions and theories of what might have happened here, so it is very hard to understand what is true or not. He would always refer to his ‘beautiful picture’. A phrase to which he would continually return when he wanted to show a picture to support his theory.

The Temple of Kukulkan is undoubtedly the showpiece to the whole site. Steeped in much history, it’s the one thing that everyone comes to see, and why not? I’ve not seen the pyramids in Egypt so I cannot compare. The temple has an ability to cause some to stand in open mouthed awe. It is also known as El Castillo (the castle). It rises imperiously to a height of 94 feet. The gloriously steep pyramid displays the accuracy and importance of astronomyto the Maya. The perfect astrological design includes 4 staircases each with 91 steps that face the cardinal points. At the top platform you’ll find one platform (a final step) add that to the simple maths of 4 times 91 and you get 365. This combined with other features give you the Mayan calendar. You were once allowed to walk to the top, that privilege was taken away as the result of spring break misdemeanours. Twice a year an optical illusion takes place at sunrise when the sun casts a shadow on the northern side, which looks like a snake is slithering down the steps. This equinox happens twice a year in the spring and autumn. Those pesky American college kids mean that climbing to the top and inside is now prohibited, a great shame as there are rumours that a smaller pyramid lies inside.

If you can drag yourself away from the one thing everyone has come to see, in the main area you will notice to behind it what looks more like a temple known as the Temple of Warriors. This rectangular building has steps in the middle up to an area where a sculpture rests in between pillars. Again, access is denied, but at the bottom of the steps are several pillars. It is rumoured that there is a pillar for each one of 450 warriors, but our trip was short so we didn’t have time to prove if this true. My guess is that this number is purely mythical.

At the opposite end to the Temple of Warriors, lies the ball court. It is said that this is the largest ball court in the Mesoamerica area. Upon entering the theatre, you will be immediately drawn to the two rings situated in the walls on either side. How the game worked I still can’t understand but I believe the idea was to get the ‘ball’ through the ring on the wall. I think I’m right in thinking that the rules meant that no arms or legs were allowed to move the ball and was also played in the dark. Very strange especially when it is realised that the losers became a sacrificial offering. Can’t imagine too many wanting to take up that sport. Glad that we have moved on from those times.

My two visits have shown me what everyone comes to see. Longer time would be needed to explore the full site and see why this became a significant centre of political and economic power. Suburbs were built around the site, with connecting stone roads. Sadly, I leave this place, one of the seven new wonders of the modern world. I wish I had longer to explore the site and delve into the dark underground world of the Mayabut as I was a tourist, I was caught in the rat trap of tour agendas. Had I been in traveling mode I perhaps would have learnt so much more. So, I say, “Adios, Chichen-Itza”, and look forward to visiting another wonder of the world in the near future.

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Loving London

Not a war time cry across the wireless but a phrase from the lyrics put together by ‘The Clash’ and with which its song leads I feel ‘London Calling’. The Clash would follow up their leading line with ‘to the faraway towns’, and this is so as I sit on the train back from this incredible city and return to my faraway town.

Some would associate London calling with the punk record or look back at memories of when it was the leading line on the wireless before the BBC would deliver reports on the darkest periods of World War II. Relaxing by letting the train take the strain I start to ponder how on earth I can write a single blog about the ‘greatest city’ on earth, that has become the laughingstock around the world recently’ apparently. I will stay away from the politics, after all this blog is about travel, London has been calling me for a while now, but though my mission to visit every city has taken a hiatus, everything now looks to be getting back on track.

A city like many others on this personal journey, it is steeped in so much of Britain’s history, which is infused through every nook and cranny of this metropolis. It was the Romans who first established this city some 2000 years ago, before many ups and downs created what is seen today. The Black Plague, the Great Fire Spanish flu and even the German Luftwaffe tried to destroy it, but she still stood firm. These are just a few periods of its incredible history that have shaped the city seen today and perhaps are reasons for so many visitors.

London lures many people to visit, to work or even to in live in, I’m included in that number. What is the reason? Politicians strive for power, investors and bankers seek their fortune, some people arrive for a glimpse of the monarchy, or others just like to find fame in that ‘Instagrammable’) location. The facts surely speak for themselves. Before the pandemic struck, some 18 million people came to visit the city every year. This is further evidenced by London being voted the greatest city on the planet on numerous occasions. This, of course, is open for debate.

Someone wise once said, ‘Why, sir, you find no man, at all intellectual, who is willing to leave London. No, Sir, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford.’ Sadly, as I write this, I tend to disagree because, on this day, I am willing to leave London. Has the world changed greatly from the day that this was said? In my opinion it has greatly! In my eyes the hustle and bustle are okay for a day or two, but full time? Not for me! That’s a rat race I don’t want to win. Perhaps many Londoners shared the same view as they flocked away from the city during the pandemic. As I see it there is a call from afar of green and pleasant lands that offer a quality of life that the city can’t match. Full time bloggers dedicate their blogs to this city. I’m just an inquisitive individual trying to learn about these lands.

It’s that thirst for knowledge that has taught me London is two cities the City of Westminster and the City of London. The City of London is surely a far cry from the small fort the Romans would have established when they invaded these lands. When the Roman Empire fell and the Romans left these shores, the city has evolved from sticks and stones into the financial hub of the world (would need confirmation that this is still the case). Now referred to as ‘the square mile’. It is adjoined on the western boundary by London’s second city, the ‘bubble’ (sorry City) of Westminster (the chaos of that City is reflected in the daily news, and I will leave that for you to follow). These two Cities combine to form the central heartbeat (downtown – if you’re reading from across the pond) of what many people associate as being London.  The gothic grandeur sprinkled throughout as modern & medieval architecture stand side by side complimenting each other is a sight to behold. London’s addictive atmosphere evokes curiosity & excitement. This is true for me as a visitor, but for those who live here 24/7 they may have other feelings. These two cities, together with 31 boroughs, combine to form the Greater London Area (GLA). Camden, Hammersmith & Fulham, Richmond, Southwark, Greenwich to name a few. Six of these boroughs do not have “London Borough” in their names: the City of London and the City of Westminster, and the Royal Boroughs of Kingston upon Thames, Kensington, Chelsea, and Greenwich. For someone living in the countryside its astonishing to think that an incredible 9 million people call London home which is more people than live in Wales and Scotland combined or the entire population of Austria. This amount of people surely gives the city its rich & diverse culture. Over a third of this 9 million were born abroad which means London is probably as international as it is British.

These cultures combine to give a mix of cuisines like no other city. Forget ‘the best of British’, as food lovers are spoilt for choice. When visiting or living in London people are spoilt for choices. There are a remarkable 87 Michelin star restaurants in the city and 3 at the highest 3* level. There are even rumours that there are more Indian restaurants in London than in Mumbai and that the food is better than can be found in that city. A quick troll through Instagram will show you some of the famous ones, normally accompanied by a rooftop view for drinks – they certainly are the craze these days. If food isn’t what you seek, then perhaps a pint maybe calling you. Pubs are part of the very fabric of Britain, and it is claimed that in London you are never no more than 7metres from one (again how true this is I shall let you decide). The capital boasts some 7,000 public houses and inns. Afternoon tea is another very British tradition, and London (where it originates from?) does it like no other. A visit to the Ritz, Claridge’s, Browns, Dorchester and The Berkeley are all worth the financial outlay.

But London is more than food & drink. It can boast an incredible 4 separate world heritage sites. It has 2000 years of history. Meaning it has something for everyone. The Romans established it, it survived the dark ages before evolving through the Middle Ages, and now as technology advances at a rate of knots who knows what she might become. The great British Isles are blessed with many castles, London incredibly only boasts one these days, The famous and much visited tower of London. At one time there were 9 castles surrounding the city, but the only one remaining is to the west, which is her late majesty’s resting place, Windsor. A town not so far away, only a day’s march back in the day is well worth a visit but shouldn’t distract you from the time that would be lost to the vast amount of museums London has to boast. You could spend a couple of weeks in London and still not visit all the museums, as there are over 170 of them. The best thing is that most of them are free! Half of the 2 millennia (of the Christian era) have been ruled by the monarchy. Westminster Abbey (along with the Tower of London) dates back to the Norman invasion. Westminster Abbey is where our kings and queens are crowned. There is a fascination with the monarchy from old to young and far and wide, and while it gives us our rich traditions, values and pomp and circumstance the whispers grow louder for its very existence. London’s more recent history has been absorbed in political infighting that has come off the back of pandemic management. As we leave the ‘pandemic’ London, like the rest of the Europe, survived as it did the great Plague and fire. During the great plague some 40,000 Londoners were wiped out in 1665 and a year later the great fire tore through the city, but she still survived. As the city evolved from the turmoil of an epidemic and then ash, it rose again. The present St Paul’s Cathedral is testament to this. It left the medieval ages and golden years and went on to become the modern masterpiece everyone seems to love now. The impression I have is that much of London’s success can be put down to the Victorians. There may be similarities with the here and now as Britain looks to carve its new place in the world post Brexit. Perhaps some inspiration can be gleaned from its great and long-standing history. London is also home to some quirky street names.

I mentioned ‘wannabe‘ social media stars flocking to the city for the perfect location for food or spending money in the city’s fashionable drinking and eating establishments. Their arrival is clearly the city’s business gains. London is also one of the 4 fashion capitals of the world and is home to more shops than Paris. Oxford, Regent & Bond Street are famous as are Harrods in Knightsbridge, Saville Row or, my personal favourite, Covent Garden.  Fashion is so popular in London that it requires two weeks and not one in the calendar year for its fashion week. The city has also produced some famous names in the fashion world – Naomi Campbell and Kate Moss to name a couple.

With many people living, working or visiting the city, it needs a transport system like no other. Green taxes and overcrowded roads mean driving in London isn’t for the faint hearted. London is served by the largest city airport network in the world. The 6 airports that form this service to the city are Stansted, Luton, Southend, City, Gatwick and Heathrow. The London Underground with its famous map is an experience not to be missed when in the city. It’s the oldest metro system in the world, 402km long and boasts an incredible 270 stops. It is reported that 1.3 billon single trips are made each year on the ‘Tube’. It is also an interesting fact that more of the underground exists above ground. How could one write about transport and not mention London’s iconic Black cabs and red buses. They used to dominate the roads of the city, but now they are competing with uber, and bicycles as alternative forms of getting round. As the world looks to green alternatives, possibly the best way to explore the city is by foot. It’s certainly my favourite way to explore the place. You’ll hopefully be able to read my blogs soon of when I completed the Thames path which took me right through the heart of the city. The City is classified as a national forest. There are an estimated 8 and half million trees in the city with over 300 gardens. This equates to 40% of London being parkland.

So, as I draw this slightly longer blog to a close, I can only apologise for its length. Hopefully you can see how difficult I have found to condense this blog about the city, and I’ve barely scratched the surface. So, as I look to explore this great city in further detail, the capital of capitals, watch out for more and more blogs on this fascinating city. I will return to that famous quote ‘when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford.’ I’m not tired and look forward to returning. Are you tired of London? Answers on a postcard (email) please….

 

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Seymour’s Sudeley

Blissfully located in the northern environs of the Cotswolds and a stone’s throw from the town of Winchcombe lies the little known Sudeley castle. Ignore at your loss or take the detour to explore a castle steeped in history!! One can only imagine the grandeur and splendour that Sudeley castle enjoyed in its heyday, as it seems to be a place that was unwanted throughout the centuries. There was a reluctance to retain ownership of it. Its occupants’ loyalty to the king during the Civil War and subsequent lack of caring owners for a couple of centuries mean that it has been left to decay over time. The site now appears to be a combination of a stately home and some castle ruins. Imagination is necessary on any visit! The ramparts and fortifications are long gone; any visitor is left to wonder at the true size of the castle from the ruins that remain. We must be grateful to local glove makers who purchased it and, along with their descendants, ensured its survival.

Sudeley Castle is the only castle in the Cotswolds, which is an area of natural beauty in the UK and not to be mistaken with a national park. Much of its beauty and reputation lies in its famous wealthy villages and churches, and people from all over the world are attracted to this quaint region to capture the same images they have seen plastered over the gram. Thankfully, Sudeley Castle seems to be off the beaten track such that it has not been subjected to this racket and has retained its freedom from Instagram fame.

Sudeley Castle

This area of England boasted much wealth throughout the centuries, and this may be seen when visiting the area. The delightful stone-built houses are the subject of photos to adorn chocolate box lids. Sudeley Castle, of course, fed off that wealth. It was established in the valley sitting underneath the wealthy town of Winchcombe. In medieval times, lands and wealth were associated with the church until midway through the 16th century when Henry VIII’s greed took over. The tithe barn that remains on the Sudeley Castle site may have connections with the church and it may well be that local farmers had to give a tithe (tenth) of their crop to the church and this was stored in these barns.

Prior to Henry VIII becoming king, his father, Henry VII, united the Houses of Lancaster and York (their emblems being the famous red and white roses) when he married Elizabeth of York and inaugurated the Tudor dynasty. There had been a massive power struggle that had lasted many a year and culminated in the famous battle of Bosworth, where Richard III was the last/only(?) monarch to be killed on the battlefield in 1485 – ‘My horse, my horse; my kingdom for a horse’; Leicester car park and all that. Richard actually owned the castle a couple of times, as before he was the king, he was known as the Duke of Gloucester. His brother Edward IV had given him Sudeley Castle and estates and the Duke used this castle as a base during the famous battle of Tewkesbury (1471; another beautiful place to visit as there is a nod to those days everywhere). I guess as Richard got more ambitious, he then made the decision to move up north to pursue his dream and exchanged the castle at Sudeley for Richmond castle in Yorkshire (another tremendous place and, again, well worth a visit). No doubt it was a motive of becoming king that led to this move and the subsequent actions. On becoming King Richard III, he acquired the castle for the second time. He set about building the great banqueting hall and state rooms but all that remains today are scattered ruins.

Sudeley Castle

When Henry VII defeated Richard III he became king of the land and set about healing the divisions. One of his main supporters was his uncle Jasper Tudor. Henry rewarded this loyalty with the Sudeley estate. Jasper Tudor died at Christmas time in 1495 with no children and heir and this meant that the castle passed back again to crown. It was perhaps Henry VII’s son and Jasper Tudor’s nephew, Henry VIII, who reigned from 1509-1545, of whom everyone has heard in connection with our history. He wanted to cut ties with Europe (similarities could be made to today) but his desire stemmed largely from a selfish motive to break from the Roman Catholic faith. His legacy, especially that seen in the established Church of England, still plays out in modern Britain with much of our pomp and ceremony associated with the state church.

Controversially, Henry manipulated people and circumstances so that he had 6 wives during his 55-year life. Divorce, beheaded, died, divorced, beheaded survived, we all know the riddle. It was his third and sixth wives that perhaps are associated most with this castle. When Henry VIII had Anne Boleyn’s head cut off (he did visit Sudeley with Anne) he had fallen for Jane Seymour and she gave him the son he desperately craved – Edward VI. This meant that the family name (Seymour) grew in strength and power.

When Henry died, he left a widow – Katherine Parr (she died the year after Henry VIII), and a very young king. The new King’s uncles manoeuvred themselves to positions of strength with the elder (Edward – 1st Duke of Somerset) becoming Lord Protector of England for his young nephew (Edward VI). He granted his younger brother Thomas, the Sudeley estate and Castle, and granted him the titles of Lord Sudeley and later Lord High Admiral. Thomas was an ambitious man, which was also his undoing. He pursued the hand of the dowager queen (the Queen mother) and he married Katherine Parr in April or May 1547 a few months after the death of Henry VIII who had earlier claimed her hand in marriage ahead of Thomas Seymour.

Upon their marriage they moved to Sudeley Castle where Thomas refurbished the castle for his new bride and her massive entourage. Katherine Parr was wealthy of her own accord, a widow prior to marrying the king, she was also granted much wealth from the king on his deathbed. She also carried on caring for princess Elizabeth (latter to become Elizabeth I). She was to die at the tender age of 36 of puerperal fever shortly after giving birth to their daughter Mary, her only child in this her fourth marriage, who herself died at the age of 2. Katherine was laid to rest in the chapel of St Mary (located in the grounds). This makes Sudeley Castle the only private castle in the land to have a queen buried in it. Thomas Seymour was eventually executed for treason, as one of his many crimes was to try to marry Princess Elizabeth and pursue his own powerful agenda. This resulted in the castle passing to the crown and Mary I granted the castle to Sir John Brydges. Finally,  Sudeley castle remained in the same family for about a century.  During this time Queen Elizabeth visited on a number of occasions, the third and final time was a 3-day party to celebrate the victory over the Spanish armada (Sir Francis Drake and all that).

Elizabeth was the last Tudor monarch. She never had an heir, which leads us to the Stewart dynasty, another iconic part of our history as it was during this time that the only Civil War this country has experienced took place. King Charles I believed in the divine right of kings and this brought him into verbal conflict with parliament. This developed into something far uglier. He was ultimately unsuccessful in defending his crown and was beheaded early in 1649. Everybody picked sides, either Royalist or Parliamentarian, and the Brydges (Lord Chandos) backed their king. He left the castle in charge of armed tenants and servants to join the king at Shrewsbury in 1642 and the castle fell into the hands of roundheads (another name for Parliamentarians) who turned the church into a stable and slaughterhouse before Prince Rupert of the Rhine (nephew of Charles I), came back to take it into the Crown’s hands in January 1643. They lost it again in 1644, in the topsy and turvy affair that was the Civil War and Cromwell (he is the subject of another story) decided the castle should be ‘slighted’ or rendered untenable as a military post. This resulted in the castle being left to rot and fall into ruin for 2 centuries.

Then in 1837, Sudeley Castle was given a lifeline. The wealthy Worcester glove-makers, brothers John and William Dent, began an ambitious restoration programme. This was continued by the family and means that much of what one sees today is down to their hard work and good will.

Sudeley Castle

Only a tenth of what was once a wealthy estate of 12,000 acres remains, but what is left leaves much to the imagination and fascination. ‘Sudeley Castle and gardens’ may seem like a misnomer as it appears more stately home than castle. The gardens are charming, there is an iconic church which is home to a famous grave, and a castle that has been battered with Britain’s history. It may not look like a castle (think Windsor or Warwick), but British history has decided that for us. We can appreciate what it is and the stories that it must tell. It is and will always be a favourite of mine.

Sudeley Castle, Tewkesbury, South West England, United Kingdom

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Berkeley Berserkly

It was the start of the new season. The autumn air that normally fills my lungs with joy was interspersed with the dark cloud of coronavirus. It is like a sword of Damocles hanging over us, but thankfully, protected as best we could have been, the sun finally broke through the clouds on our latest venture. Its warm rays provided the ignition to light that fiery display that this time of year provides, its crescendo some time off, as that pallet of orange that so normally splashes upon landscape views, was only a mere sprinkling of colour. Only the promise of the colour cacophony could be seen that day as the green leaves that provided lush memories of those warm summer’s days had started to fade away. This was no ordinary beginning to the autumn fall; we were escaping the restrictions of a national lockdown and entering a crazy new world. A weird world, where a pandemic had spread throughout it like wildfire, raging berserkly and evoking pendulum wide opinions. We all were imprisoned in their own homes and this had been absolutely necessary. Now we dared to still explore, governed by rules and regulations. These were not the sort of meanderings I’d ever experienced before. Pre-booking, ‘the new norm’, has taken away that spontaneity as military like agendas needed to be created to meet COVID requirements. We judged it best to meet these and at least get out of the house. It is a hard thing to admit but travel and adventures have largely, though not completely as there is a real need to venture out, lost their appeal in this new norm. And as we come to terms with what a future world might look like it is with a sense of despair and sadness that, perhaps, things will never be the same again. Not one to dwell on the future but to live in the moment, Berkeley Castle provided the first chance of freedom.

 

This unattractive, rugged structure provides a differing form of intrigue and illusion, one that such historic places create. The name of Berkeley is well and truly etched in every stone for the family name has lived here for almost 900 years. If only these stones could talk……. They could relive the battles they have witnessed or recalled the visitors that graced the place or even borne witness to a murder. For so much of Berkeley’s beauty lies within its ‘tales’.

The castle was first built as a Norman motte and bailey. A wooden fortress built on top of the mound, and throughout the centuries was alternatively strengthened and weakened. When Robert Fitzgerald’s loyalty to the crown was rewarded with the grant of the castle and estates in 1153, he set about building the stone keep at the heart of the castle that one sees today (and where one’s tour starts as one climbs the steps to the first floor).

Over the next 300 years the family was in and out of favour with the monarchy as most families seem to have been in their time. At one point the Berkeley family were one of 50-70 noble families who helped govern the land but as their fortune ebbed and flowed, so did their wealth and favour. They were given dubious responsibility of holding a famous prisoner.  In 1327 the castle kept the deposed king, Edward II, who was then murdered here (as you enter the Kings Gallery (named after the family’s collection of paintings of kings of England) one sees where the not-so-pleasant deed was committed – allegedly). By now the castle was clearly being expanded and strengthened. The kitchens, butteries and great hall (displays a large flag which we missed on our first visit as we were drawn to the stained glass windows; we returned to this room when we came back from the kitchen and noticed it hanging there) were added, which are now part of the interesting tour that one embarks on when visiting. By the mid 1500s the castle was very appealing to some who wanted to get their hands on it, and upon the death of the fourth Lord Berkeley, an inheritance dispute took place, and with no direct heirs, it was fought amongst a couple of cousins, the crown and another earl wanting to get his hands on it. Years of dispute ensued. In between all of this it made its way into the hands of crown on a couple of occasions and Queen Elizabeth I’s favourite, the Earl of Leicester, most certainly took a fancy to it. He managed to persuade the queen to hand it over to him – the castle and estates were so valuable. It eventually made its way back into the hands of Lord Berkeley at a great cost (this throws into doubt the claim that the same family has lived here for 900 years). By now the Tudor dynasty was coming to an end to be replaced by the Stuarts (the Tudor period is referenced on the tour by the name of the room one enters when leaving the King’s Gallery – Drake’s room – which houses a number of paintings of ships).

The Stuart era was a fascinating period of English history as civil war broke out, the only time this country has experienced such turmoil, and Berkeley was no exemption as far as choosing a side to support was concerned. The castle’s location halfway between Bristol and Gloucester meant it was possibly a key strategic location. It changed hands an incredible 5 times between the parliamentarians and the royalists. Part of the successful Oliver Cromwell’s legacy ensured valuable and interesting items were destroyed as he went about rebuilding the land in his own image by removing any vestiges of Catholicism. Even the castle’s defences were destroyed, and one wonders why this should have been. I guess Oliver Cromwell sought loyalty from people in return for him giving back their lands; I guess he needed to know that the castle could never be used against him. So, Cromwell instructed the breach of the keep wall so that it could never be used as a fortress again. During the years the family has inherited some properties, estates and lands. Their most notable inheritance was Berkeley Square in London; sadly, this no longer belongs to the family as it was plundered during its ownership to service their lavish lifestyle but adds another point of interest to visit when returning to London one day.

As the sun was still shining it would have been rude not to explore the gardens – in many properties that is all that can be seen in these trying times. We went to explore what autumn had done to the foliage in the grounds. We followed the ‘new norm’ – the one-way system. Whether or not we followed it correctly was anyone’s guess, it was not that clear which way it went. The steepness of the steps going down meant that much landscaping of the gardens was difficult, and really all that is left is a walled garden. We managed to find some water features which led to a pond. This area provided a time to sit and reflect; I sometimes wonder in 20 to 30 years’ time how I would describe this year and I am left puzzled as to how I would explain it.

So, as autumn begins to warm my heart, I have to disentangle myself from the ever-increasing number of spider webs that now appear. It’s a favourite time of the year – we are so blessed to have 4 seasons. Its spectacular display of colour captivate my attention and I muse upon the fact that I should be preparing for the winter hibernation and not the start of our first travel plans of the year. I’m grateful for the history of this land, as it will provide me with distraction, and, thinking positively, welcome mental activity, during these lonely and scary times.

Berkeley Castle, Stroud, South West England, United Kingdom

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Eton Style

I love the Boatman for there I can eat in style. It is great to sit by the river in the grounds of the same pub mentioned in the piece on Windsor. I was in good company this time and the sun was shining. Lunch had been demolished and I toyed with the idea of indulging in some broken pavlova, mixed in with strawberries and lashings of cream. Instead I decided to cross over Windsor bridge and explore the town of Eton rather than indulge in its namesake dessert. My waistline almost expressed its gratitude for non-indulgence as I set about seeing if there was a link between the town and the dessert. It is rumoured that the dessert was to be served at some time during a cricket match between Eton and Harrow, it was dropped (hence the mess), and scooped up and served as it was.

I crossed the famous bridge, like so many have done before me. I expect that many visitors to Windsor have not gone on to explore the other side of river and the famous town but rather stay on the bridge and capture an image of the castle from there. Instead I left Windsor behind and started to make my way up the high street which is possibly like no other in the land but, sadly, on this day resembled more of a building site than a bespoke arcade. The ubiquitous British flags and bunting still adorned the street, providing much colour above as cars littered the street below. Whilst walking along the pavement I was drawn to some lonely books for sale outside a bookshop. I picked up one that said, “considered to be Dickens’ finest novel”. What a great purchase this may prove to be, as I look to create my own library and find a love of reading. Oh, where was this appetite when I was young? I went to purchase the book and grabbed a booklet regarding the “Eton walkway”. To my delight I was informed by the quaint man behind the desk that it was free. I was delighted that purchasing a book had resulted in the acquisition of a free guide to my afternoon of meanderings. So, I left with one of England’s finest works and a guide to show me the best bits of this town.

As I wandered up the high street, I was able to identify the points of interest as my step by step guide explained them all to me. A red pillar box, for example, once a common feature on the streets of our nation, only this one is a rare one indeed. Only 10 of these types of box exist in the country, and as a result it is grade II listed. A vertical slot for posting letters was puzzling to see. The guide took me further up the high street passing the Porny School towards Baldwin’s bridge. Just before the bridge are a couple of colourful shops that, on closer inspection, proved to be tailors. How does such a small town justify two tailors? Well this high street probably relies heavily on its ‘town and gown’ tag for just over Baldwin’s bridge lies Eton College.

The famous college was founded in 1440 by Henry VI and is dedicated to the Virgin Mary. As one approaches the college from the high street the first part one sees is the chapel. Not looking like a chapel, one can only assume what it’s like on the inside. The windows in the chapel were destroyed in 1940 during the bombing raids on England. On the outer edge of the chapel and, unlike much of the college, able to be seen by all is a plaque regarding William de Waynflete, a former bishop of Winchester, who paid for the completion of the chapel.

 

From here one approaches the main gates to the school.  It costs around £14,000 per term for education at the college. Originally 70 scholars were educated for free and provided with accommodation. Whether this is still the case in these financial times I’m not sure – I doubt it. Access to the school is very limited but a sneaky look through the grand gates will allow one to see the statue to the founding king in the centre of the quadrangle.

The college dominates much of the town, with 24 houses providing accommodation for over 1300 pupils. The mind begins to boggle at the finances this school operates with – oh how different to the budgets in state schools. On the other side of the road lies the second main quadrant of buildings for the school. Immediately you are drawn to what lies in front of the centre archway. What school do you know that has a historic cannon on display? A completely different world. It does provide wonderful photo opportunities as the marvellous stonework behind the cannon adds to the image.

The walkway then started to bring me out of the town. It was here that perhaps the finest view of the college was captured. As I stood there and took the picture I wondered if I was actually taking a picture of a college in Cambridge. Is there a link between the two establishments? It was also at this point I had passed some surprising iron rungs in the wall with my guidebook informing me that these are there to provide pupils access to the top of the wall to watch the ‘The Wall Game’. This takes place in the autumn term and is perhaps unique to this college.

The next part of the walkway involved me getting a little lost as I tried to pick up access to more of the buildings across the college’s greens. I eventually found my way back onto Common Lane which brought me back to the main college buildings and the top of the high street. It was here that I found ‘the burning bush’. Designed to help the boys cross the road safely, it was moved from its original location when the cannon was put in place. Now a significant landmark of the town and photographic opportunity, it also takes its place in front of a doomed building which bears similarities to that of Radcliffe Camera in Oxford.

Pressed for time, I return towards the river, passing some other points of interest which include the natural history museum and the museum of antiquities before coming across the church of St John. The church is now a shadow of former glories and has had to find a new way of surviving, the school coming to the rescue and converting it into accommodation and a local doctor’s surgery. Oh, how the religious landscape of this nation has changed.

My return to the river beneath Windsor castle completed the ‘Eton Walkway’. It had been an incredibly informative and pleasantly surprising walk. I left with another book for ‘my library’ and many happy memories. Anyone who visits Windsor must plan a longer trip than those arranged from London as they only give the visitor a couple of hours here. Windsor and Eton are worthy of more than a casual glance. Stay a night and spend some serious time here and you never know what you might find for across the river lies the town of Eton, dominated by a famous school and the town is associated with a dessert we all surely love. Why wouldn’t you want to explore Eton?

Eton, England, United Kingdom

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Vienna Vignette

This global downtime has given me much time to myself, to ponder, reflect and reminisce. The future of the world looks uncertain, however, I can take stock and be grateful for the memories I have already created and hope that one day soon I will be able to create many more.

A visit to Vienna was one of the trips made and should have been one of my first blogs. Sorry. Time allows me to resurrect the photographic memories (both electronic and hard copies) from which I draw upon to write this blog. Five and half years later I’m finally putting pen to paper (or fingers to the keyboard) and composing my thoughts on my meanderings to the Austrian capital. Vienna had only become a capital again when Austria regained its sovereign independence from allied control (another part of the history of this world that needs further exploration). Vienna’s interesting history shows that it has had its fair share of challenges, from the very start of its existence, surviving sieges and capture, to a city of palaces and society that entertained many. Like so many European cities its intriguing history is what inspires you to visit today.

 

What had lured me to this city I know not. Looking back, it was probably a combination of being given a number of travel guides and finding a cheap flight and the need to use up my remaining annual leave entitlement. Whatever it was that brought me here I can only be thankful as I left amazed at Vienna’s beauty. I waltzed around the streets of Vienna, uplifted by the glorious winter sunshine, and followed in the footsteps of illustrious musicians and royalty. The city boasts an abundance of architecture. Baroque buildings combine with several imperial palaces. Dotted around are museums and statues of iconic people associated with the city and mainly connected by the Ringstrasse.

 

In my recent meanderings around England (York, Chester) I’ve discovered how the Roman Empire expanded (and ultimately declined). I’ve learnt that the Romans had a good eye for setting up their outposts/forts. Vienna was slightly different as it was established by the Romans and called Vindobona. They may have got this one outpost slightly wrong as by the 5th century the barbarian invasions had reduced it to ruins. Its apparent weakness was its location on the edge of the Hungarian plains, but surely a strength was the mighty river that flowed nearby, the river Danube. This waterway must surely have been part of the success of the city as it evolved into a major trading centre by the 13th century. Vienna, however, knew its ups and downs. The same can be said for much of Europe. In the year 1683 it had finally defeated the Turks, and this is when the city really began to flourish, and it was that part of the city that I discovered and admired. The Hapsburgs ruled this imperial capital and developed it on the grandest scale. This brought with it much wealth to Vienna and its music began to thrive. Now known as the music capital of the world, its classical tastes are a far cry from the modern beats, inappropriate language and distasteful subjects. Europe looks to be reorganising itself once again due to Brexit and coronavirus. Clearly it has been here before. In the year 1814 the European powers that had defeated the Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte met for the year to discuss how to restore the established order which had been thrown out by the Emperor. So, as you can see the city is rich in history that has fascinated me as I have discovered and explored more of the world’s history. Perhaps I didn’t do the city the justice it deserves in that the stay was short but hope (if I’m lucky enough) to return one day to explore further.

 

My first day was spent walking up into the vineyards of Vienna. I was perhaps trying to follow in my father’s footsteps when he brought us here when I was 11. There is a distant memory of getting off a boat in the middle of nowhere and exploring the city or so he thought. I had some sort of a plan for the day that involved walking up into the hills to enjoy the views of the vineyards of Vienna and the city. Rumour has it that there is no other city in the world that has vineyards in such close proximity to the city centre. At the time I didn’t appreciate the fine tastes of wine; oh, how I wish I was heading there now with these taste budslong to sample the wine. Instead I made it for the views and breakfast. I had no planned route but followed the signs that were placed on the pathways. My reward at the top of a hill was a glorious view of the River Danube adjacent to which the stunning part of this city is built. The sun hadn’t yet burnt off the morning haze, so the pristine clear views weren’t seen. It was still worth the effort; to the left from my viewpoint was the uglier side of the city that thankfully wasn’t going to get any of my attention. Lying beneath the morning mist was a city waiting to be discovered. My inquisitive mind and body were ready to explore.

 

After enjoying some refreshments, I returned back down the hills to edge of the river. I had a map but was looking for a route into the city to find the famous Ferris wheel that had been used in the Bond movie ‘The Living Daylights’. Had I reached there I would have immediately recognised it as the place where my dad was given lots of grief for the circuitous route he had made around the city. Instead I stumbled upon a number of football fans and mingled and walked with them in the direction they were travelling. I soon abandoned my plan and followed them in the hope that they might be headed to a game. It soon dawned on me that they were attending a local game. I quickly went to the ticketing office to enquire if there was a spare ticket and I was in. It set me back 32 euros as I got to watch SK Rapid Wien play SK Sturm Graz at the Ernst-Happel-Stadion. By the time the game had finished darkness had fallen upon the city. I did get to the Ferris wheel but had to make do with night-time shots. A wonderful first day in the city came to an end shortly afterwards.

 

My second and third days were spent exploring the city itself. What an absolute joy it is to look back at those photos taken and remember the grand imperial beauty of the city. At the heart of Vienna lies the 12th century Stephansdom cathedral (St. Stephens). Very little remains from its early days, and, like so many cathedrals across Europe, additions were made during different periods. When in Vienna you cannot fail to see the cathedral as it stands taller than all around with its stunning mosaic roof, which was laid to show the Royal and Imperial double-headed eagle and the coat of arms of the city of Vienna, sitting with pride of place on the skyline. It is quite distinctive and makes it one of the most recognisable churches in the world. Its famous spire, known as Steffl, stands at 450ft high. Inside the cathedral are many pieces of artwork, that survived a fire towards the end of World War II. That fire also damaged the potent symbol of the city known as ‘the Pummerin’. This bell reflects the turbulent history of the city and was made from the canons that the Turks left when were defeated back in 1683. The bell, like the roof, has since been restored. My walk around Vienna meant that I discovered many other smaller churches that were equally as impressive as the main one in the city.

 

I may have been a bit naïve as I did not want to spend money exploring the many museums and galleries the city boasts, but I could also add to that argument that the weather was too good to be inside. So, my youthful exuberance made for exploring the beauty that this city had to offer by foot. Being alone I declined the touristy Viennese way of getting around the city, the horse and carriage. These are iconic symbols associated with the city just like gondolas are in Venice or punts in Cambridge. A lot of money could be spent on these things.

 

I mentioned earlier the Ringstrasse which was a grand boulevard built by emperor Franz Joseph to separate parts of the city. Whether or not it still remains I’m unsure, but what looks to be the more modern development of it houses some of Vienna’s landmarks. Here I found the Neues Rathaus (new town hall) where the Christmas market was being readied. It meant capturing the perfect picture was difficult. Combined with the tall central tower it was almost impossible to get a full image. Also, in this area is the Burgtheatre, which has been restored following damage sustained  during World War II. Its beauty from the outside must be admired but rumours of its internal grandeur, must remain just that. Another building that stuck out was the parliament building. You might be mistaken at this point for thinking that you were in Rome or Athens, as Greek and Roman statues adorn the building. In front of the building lies the Athenebrunnen fountain, dominated by the figure of Pallas Athene (the goddess of wisdom). Two final buildings worth mentioning (as they have remarkable similarities) sit mirroring each other. These are the natural history and Kunsthistorisches museums. Rumours are these might be one of the top attractions in the city. I, sadly, must report that I did not step inside them. I remember seeing these wonderful buildings as a child but only from the outside.

 

The Ringstrasse was designed to separate the Stephansdom and Hofburg areas of the city. The Hofburg area is named after the Hofburg palace, which is one of three that I visited in the city. This complex of buildings right in the centre of the city shows how it was built through the ages, as differerent rulers wanted to leave their mark. I can remember walking through here in the evening with my family and remarking at the number of flags dangling around (as a child I aimed to collect a flag of every country I visited). I can’t recall going inside the complex and exploring the library or state apartments. Instead, along with all the other tourists, I tried to capture images of the outside of the buildings, statues, domes and their architecture and decorative detail. One day….

Coming a little bit away from the centre of the city you reach the Belvedere area of the city. As I mentioned there were more churches visited than the cathedral and one of these was Karlskirche. A grand dome with columns either side of it make it rather appealing. Yet another fine example of the wealth of architecture the city boasts.  My main reason for coming into this area of the city was to visit a second palace. The beautiful Belvedere Palace had splendid grounds with water fountains that had been wrapped up for the winter. I could only imagine how many people would have been present during the summer months.

 

The largely empty gardens gave a wonderful impression as they bathed in the winter sunshine. Again, I didn’t step inside, but found my way out the back where a large water feature provided that iconic shot. As the cold and night started to approach, I made my way towards to the opera area of the city. A glimpse was made of the state opera house, its grand entrance living up to the hype. I would have loved to have been a position to make an entry, and probably listen to the music of the city’s famous sons, but my tired and scruffy appearance would not have been welcomed in such a grand location. Perhaps when I’m older and can dress more suitably I could return and watch a performance of the highest quality. For now, I will have to just enjoy videos of the opera house that emerge of the inside on the internet and in movies.

My final day took me away from the city centre. A short train trip was made to the third palace of my trip, Schonbrunn Palace. What a day this was. The ticket I paid for allowed access to 3 areas if I remember rightly – the palace, the coach museum and the zoo. I made the customary visit inside but disappointingly I can’t remember anything of the inside which is a shame and as the rooms look incredible – perhaps photography wasn’t allowed. This might explain my lack of memory – how interesting it is that we need help to jog our memories. I wonder how much of what I remember is based upon stories that I was told by those who shared the occasion or photos/videos that were taken at the time. Enough of that for that is a vast subject. From here I went to the coach museum, where glorious carriages were on display in the former winter riding school. My afternoon was spent exploring the vast grounds, which boast an impressive green house and a zoo. I went into the zoo as my ticket permitted this, but soon left as the guilt of seeing these wonderful animals in captivity was too much to bear. I always say that once you’ve been on safari (in 2006) you will never want to visit a zoo/aquarium. The palace has a potent yellow façade which is best viewed when walking up to and from the Gloriette. The views were worth the walk. I took on liquid refreshments at Gloriette as it is now home to a café/bar. I can remember indulging in conversation with an old gentleman who was a resident of the city. It was a perfect end to my trip as I sat and talked away about my visit.

 

Hopefully I’ve manged to describe my trip to this beautiful city. Pictures have proved invaluable in enabling me to retrace my footsteps and put my memories into writing. I’m sure it will provide a delightful Facetime with my father when he reads it and we reminisce. As I’ve remarked before I have many regrets in life, none more so than not writing a blog/diary as a kid or of my earlier travels and all the trips that my parents took me on. So, as I sit and dream of days when travel may resume in a completely different form, I take the moment to remember that my early travel was never taken for granted but I considered it and still consider travel a privilege. It is something that I’m missing greatly.

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Yes York

There are good days and not so good days. There are early morning run days and there are other days. There are home days and away days. Today was a good day (in every sense of the word – weather, profitable, awakening, etc.), an away day and ideal for a run. I left my hotel and started running from Clifford’s Tower around the walls before finding somewhere for breakfast. In those heavy plods, my overweight body gasped at the fresh winter air and cleared my lungs; I was richly rewarded for such an early start. As the sun shone and warmed my sleepy muscles, I began to enjoy this newfound way to explore a city. I must surely look at the health and environment benefits of exploring places in this and other ways. Like many of these cities this was not a first visit, but again my memory, or lack of it, has let me down, for anyone who has been to York will remember it.

It was reportedly said by King George VI, “that the history of York is the history of England”. Whether he ever said this I will leave to those who wish to confirm or otherwise, but what I will say is that if he didn’t say it, I will! York, the capital of the north, a Christian stronghold, once Europe’s chief trading base, and England’s second city, it really does provide a snapshot of England’s history. Although not England’s second city now, it is home to an important diocese within the Church of England and the title handed to the second son of a given reigning monarch.

How it came to be known as York is a mystery to me. When the Romans arrived, they named it Eboracum, before the Saxons changed it to Eoforwic and the Vikings named it Jorvik. Like I’ve mentioned before the Romans had a good eye for establishing bases. York was no different. Its ideal strategic location on the conflux of the rivers Ouse and Foss was their chosen spot. It probably provided good transportation links as well as defences. Very little of Roman Britain remains in York – there is an odd pillar here and there. Rumours are that much of Roman York is buried under the city itself but it does lay claim to the place of the proclamation of the Roman Emperor Constantine (a statue dedicated to the emperor can be found outside the Minster).

As the history books will no doubt inform me the Romans’ influence declined and then it was the turn of the Saxons and Vikings. York is filled with museums documenting their time in the city. Those not wishing to spend time in these museums only need to look at the Danish street names for the influence left over from the Vikings.

Everyone knows how the Saxon/Viking era finished some 300 miles south of York in Hastings by the Normans in 1066 – and all that. The new king of the land set about touring his newfound kingdom and building defences and religious buildings. He arrived in York relatively easily with no resistance and was handed the keys. He quickly set about building its defences as he raised a motte and baily castle here. The building of structures used for religious purposes didn’t come for another 200 years, so was there something already here? The city had two castles built and Clifford’s Tower (where my run commenced) is one of them. As I did those runs up and down the stairs to the castle I quickly got an idea of how easy it might be to defend these hills. Clifford’s Tower is the only remaining castle – the other has long gone. It is named after Roger de Clifford who was hanged here in 1322. There is a museum opposite the tower which houses the cell formerly used by highwayman Dick Turpin. These first original defences built by William weren’t that secure as the Vikings returned to capture the city. William returned, and set about rebuilding the city walls and destroying much of the land between here and Durham.

York’s other military defences that can be still seen today are its perfectly kept walls. Whoever saved the day in the 18th century when most city walls were being pulled down must be praised. What is left is not all encapsulating as I got lost when the walls stopped. Like Chester’s walls they beg to be traversed. At just over 3-mile-long they provided perfect running space and dreamy views on an early morning. I was lucky enough to get pictures of the Minster, etc. Whilst walls provide a great way of stopping anyone from coming in or out, there was a need for gates to be included. These medieval gates are called Bars. 4 of them are placed in the walls but I did not find out whether or not they match the points of the compass. Their names are Bootham, Walmgate, Monk and Micklegate. Built between the 12-15th centuries these provided the collection point for city taxes. The final two on the list of 4 are now museums to Richard III (Monk) and Henry VII (Micklegate). When I return Monk Bar must surely be in line for a visit as I’m currently reading about Richard III. Perhaps I should devote as much time to Micklegate Bar as well, as the city’s most famous of Bars. It is said that the monarch, upon arriving at York, would wait at Micklegate and seek the permission of the Lord Mayor to enter the city. Micklegate Bar was also the place in which the heads of traitors and rebels were placed on display. This gruesome decoration was prominent during the ebb and flow of the War of the Roses and as each side took an upper hand, they would display how successful it had been by this means. Most distasteful.

Inside those protecting walls lies the glory of York, it’s Minster. York Minster has been described as one of the world’s most magnificent cathedrals. This is up for debate. I mean, it’s not even a cathedral but a minster??? So how can it be one of the most magnificent in the world. My visits to cathedrals recently haven’t endeared me to them, substantial financial costs for entrance a major problem, but also timing my visits with essential building works. York minster was no different, at an alarming £11.50 to enter. I was heartbroken to see that the middle of the church had been blocked off for the once-in-a-century tuning of the organ thus ruining my photos of the inside and meaning access to see the central tower ceiling impossible. My selfish desires to capture everything on one visit must be put aside as I sit down and remember the cost of maintaining these buildings but also marvel at the sheer size of this place. I’ve made many a mention about how on earth these religious places were ever built or how they were designed. There is such a vacuum of empty space inside, one can certainly feel lonely.

On such a beautiful day I didn’t really want to waste it on the inside, I paid an extra £5 to complete the tower tour. 275 steps later I was rewarded with the best views of the city in glorious winter sunshine and well worth the exercise. I finally dragged myself back down again and had a wander around. Did you know that the Archbishop of York is the second highest ranking clergyman in the land? I guess an archbishop comes at the top of the hierarchy in the church of England and the Archbishop of Canterbury is the top man. The sheer size of the diocese of York also means that the archbishop is kept a very busy man. A step outside to admire the outside of the building in sunshine is much more appealing on this day.

After exploring the Minster, I stepped further into the city to be amazed at its preservation. You will find medieval, Jacobean and Georgian architecture now combined with the modern landscape of a city. There is so much to explore down winding and narrow cobbled streets. One street in particular is a favourite on Instagram, ‘the Shambles’. This crooked street with beautifully preserved, over hanging timber buildings provide the must take photo of the city. How many times has this street cropped up on Instagram pages? It is argued that it is the finest medieval street in Europe, and it is hard to disagree – people in Germany and in a city like Prague might have something to say. It really does feel like a step back in time, although its current shop holders don’t resemble the originals (a street full of butchers). There are many nooks and crannies to explore in this city and an overwhelming number of churches and museums. These museums also provide light to one of the cities more modern successes. Chocolate and sweets. We’ve all heard of the names Terrys, Cravens and Rowntree.

The success of these chocolatiers in the 19th Century owed much of its fortune to the links that the railway provided. We associate the railway with the industrial revolution, so it’s surprising that I mention it in connection with chocolate though this became an industry. The railway line gave it market access it could have only dreamt of. It also led to the beginning of the tourist trade that the city clearly thrives upon (second only to London on the number of visitors per year), as train loads of people arrived from around the country. At one point over 250 trains were arriving each day into the city. This of course led to the Victorians building a new railway station to manage the demand. By the end of the 19th century it was the railways and chocolate industries that were the biggest employers of the city. When in York, time must surely be made to visit the largest railway museum in the world. A former steam engine shed is now a converted home to some iconic engines – the Flying Scotsman, the Mallard, Stephenson’s Rocket to name but a few. Seeing these engines was a joy to see but felt a little dreary, for there is nothing more poetic than seeing these great machines in full working order. Visit the heritage railways and you’ll begin to appreciate what I mean.

York, perhaps ‘the capital city of the North’, whose fortunes rose and fell with its ties to the crown and church, was once England’s second city, and perhaps in some respects still is. I wish I had longer.  There is so much that I still haven’t seen or learned about but as so many cities claim to be modern metropolises, York’s claim to fame is its warped beauty and it remains an ancient artefact with its history is its greatest asset. York, I long to be back and to delve deeper into your layers of history.

York, England, United Kingdom

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Winsome Windsor

Fancy me being educated as I sat in the Boatman Pub by the River Thames and read William Woodsworth’s words on its wall.

How richly glows the waters breast
Before us, tinged with evening hues,
While, facing thus the crimson west,
The boat her silent course pursues!
And see how dark the backwards stream
A little moment past so smiling
And still, perhaps, with faithless gleam
Some other loiterers beguiling

Such view the youthful Bard allure;
But, heedless of the following gloom,
He deems their colours shall endure
Till peace go with him to the tomb
– And let him nurse his fond deceit,
And what if he must die in sorrow!
Who would not cherish dreams so sweet
Though grief and pain may come tomorrow

The beer helped wash down the good food as well. At the end of another day meandering and educating myself it’s always good to take stock of what I’ve seen. I’ve appreciated what I’ve learnt. History is a fascinating marker as we look to create our current and future lives. History never appealed to me at school – perhaps poor teaching and so many different historical eras were the issues. Of course, it could have been me to blame. I opted instead for geography and maybe links with travel was my thought process although I cannot recall having one!! I sometimes wonder how school may have been different had I made other choices than those made or shown the same enthusiasm as I have now.

I’ve been to Windsor countless times, yet I never tire of this place. My love affair with this town is perhaps shared by Her Majesty the Queen. Windsor’s evolution over time has been a result of its ideal strategic location. William the Conqueror first built a castle here as part of his western defences of London. Windsor was one of the 9 castles built around London to protect it from its enemies. Another of these 9 castles was the Tower of London. It is a day’s march between the two which was critical. William the Conqueror first built a motte and bailey structure. The castle now is no reflection of that former initial design. It is now an architectural masterpiece that takes centre stage and maybe takes your breath away upon first sight. A visit to the castle is a must, avoiding the coach loads of people. This is a difficult task but with unlimited visits for one year after the date of purchase on your ticket you will hopefully get a good visit should you return. Whenever you look at Windsor Castle (be that from the High Street or the river or wherever you choose in town) you see its dominating position. It has an ideal strategic position and its shadow is cast over the town. An exploration of the new town is a must and shouldn’t be ignored. This leads onto an enquiring nature of Windsor’s development as there is an old and new Windsor. The two towns are miles apart and downstream of each other with Old Windsor now a peaceful village along the river.

The castle is the oldest occupied royal residence in Britain. The castle has developed over its 1000 years of history from the time it was built by William the Conqueror in 1070 through many adaptions and alterations by different monarchs to surviving the great fire of 1992. King George V’s affection with Windsor resulted in his family’s surname change in 1917. His granddaughter, our current queen carries on the Windsor dynasty through to this day. A castle ticket allows access to the state apartments and St George’s Chapel. The state apartments boast a wealth of opulent furnishings and displays of artwork from the royal collection. Walking around these state apartments is at times mind blowing, the level of detail and beauty in each room being incredible. Modern life’s desire to capture everything on camera is strictly forbidden inside which I feel adds to its incredible charm. I would love to spend time capturing images of the ceilings that you see here, the angelic pieces of paintwork along with a room full of chivalric shields to name but a few. There are numerous amounts of weaponry displayed, all in pristine order. Also residing in the state apartments is the Queen Mary doll house. A truly remarkable and jaw dropping toy built by Sir Edwin Lutyens – it really must be seen to be believed.

After leaving the state apartments you walk around the iconic round tower. The tower is the centre piece of the castle and is home to the Royal Archives and photography collection. For a couple of months of the year you can pay extra for a tour which takes you to the top for incredible views of the castle, chapel and the town. When you leave the tower, you make your way into one of the finest churches of the land. Its incredible beauty was displayed in two recent, royal weddings that took place here. The chapel is the burial place of ten monarchs and if rumours are true then this will be 11 one day.

Whistle stop tours may drag punters by the bus load from London on crazy agendas, but I feel you could spend an age here exploring the history of the castle which is woven together with our rich national history. It is such a symbol of past Britain. When you can finally drag yourself away from the castle there is an abundance of pubs in which to enjoy a pint with the perfect view. Its amongst these pubs you find you will find Instagram’s favourite part of Windsor. The wonky house. Also known as Market Cross house, the following was taken from a visit inside:

Market Cross House leans quite a lot,
for eleven reigns it has stood on this plot.
No one knows why it tilts to one side.
could be the wood that never dried.
We like to think it’s a characterful tilt,
from 1718, when it was re-built.

From here walk under the arches of the Windsor and Royal Borough museum housed in the Guildhall, past the church of St John the Baptist on your left and one of the oldest post boxes of the land (dark green not normal red). Around the corner is a charming pub resting in front of the imperious gates that are the beginning of The Long Walk. Those not on a short trip should take the time to walk it as for some distance as you will get the best view Windsor Castle. Go the end of the walk (some miles) and you will get the iconic long distance view just like many have done down the centuries since Charles II formed the Long Walk. A copper statue of King George III upon a horse sits on top of the hill at the end of the walk and the statue has been made so that he looks back towards the castle. Is there a finer view in the land? Along the walk one passes through the royal deer park, and if the deer ‘play ball’ they provide great photographic opportunities.

After completing the walk return to the town and you’ll find an array of shops and eateries. Exploring the town will inevitably lead you to one of the two railway stations in the town. These brought further wealth to the town during Victorian times. The two stations are terminii. This proves that the railways and industrial revolution made its way to Windsor but there is no other further evidence to support this. Windsor’s wealth perhaps lies with its royal pardon in 1276. This meant that it didn’t have to pay any taxes to the crown. In 1840 a few years before the arrival of the railways Queen Victoria took up residence here and set about works on redevelopment of the castle. This brought a drastic change to the town, as it moved away from its sleepy medieval market past into a centrepiece of an empire. Heads of state were greeted and entertained here; a tradition that has long been continued to this day.

Windsor without the Thames is like bread without butter. Back in the day the Thames would have been the main travel link between here and London. A boat trip sheds light on the ideal strategic location of the castle. Much pleasure can be had from any pool of water.  Sadly, not in ownership of a boat I had to forego cruising along in my own vessel. I have done the tourist boat trips, but these are normally a damp squib. Instead I would recommend a free walk along the riverbanks on either side (the Eton side gives the better view of the castle) and witness the huge number of swans, but not to be distracted from the picturesque view.

So, as I sit and enjoy a refreshing pint, I try and understand William’s words and appreciate a real warmth for Windsor and try to work out why visitors to these shores don’t plan longer to visit this royal town.

Windsor, England, United Kingdom