Happy Halloween

There were several of these web-like structures in the play areas of the beaches in Majorca. Pretty sure they weren't put there for these goof balls to climb, however.

I see England, I see France

Since Chan was feeling better by Thursday, we decided to take a day trip to France. We got the train in Dartford to Dover and then the ferry to Calaise which in total took three hours to complete. It was a beautiful clear day and it was great weather for crossing the channel. What surprised me was how well equipped the ferry was and it was not at all what I had envisioned. I thought we would be huddled in some glass covered boat with the waves edging up to the rails and a lone captain, with a pipe in the corner of his mouth, navigating recklessly towards the French coast. Nope, this ferry was a cruise ship, for goodness sake. Book stores, perfume shops, Costa coffee, restaurants serving curry, a couple of bars, and even a games room for the kids. With the crossing taking just over an hour and three quarters, it was easy to find ways to pass the time.

We did spend some time up on the deck and Rick and Chan spotted several jellyfish popping up and then back down again near the wash from our boat. Chan was pretty thrilled to see these creatures and it reminded me of when I was a girl and I lived in British Columbia. We used to go down to the docks and see what the fishermen had pulled out of their nets. Quite often jellyfish would get caught in the mix with crabs, seaweed, and other unwanted fish and they would be left on the docks. Not sure what ever happened to these outcasts but as kids we loved to poke at these wacky marine invertebrates.

As we approached the coast of France, we noticed this expansive beach that in the summer would probably be a blast to lounge on, walk along, and just hang out. Suddenly, though, I remembered that we were in France and I asked Rick if this may have been one of the beaches that had been stormed during war times. Rick said that it was Normandy and he wasn’t sure about Calaise but it still felt a little eerie as we quietly chugged into the port as the beach was desolate.

Once in the town of Calaise, we walked the streets reading the French signs (and trying out our language skills with shop keepers and bar tenders), drooling as we passed bakery windows, and were basically on a mission to find the best place to pick up some cheap wines. We found a local grocery store and that is when our excitement could no longer be contained. Holy crap, wine for 1 Euro 95! I am sure the locals shudder when nutty tourists like us show up. I just loved to see Chan imitating Rick and me grabbing for this and that on the shelves and cooing about the prices. “I’ll take one of those and one of these and yes, how about that too?” his arms extended and retracted like some kind of assembly line machine. Okay, so maybe we were a little over zealous about the wine selection but when do you get the chance to come to France and shop like that?

Aside from the wine, we did take Channing to a German bunker (sorry to say but it smelt musty and damp) and he was quite fascinated by the collection of guns, newspaper clippings, uniforms, and other memorabilia. I, however, was kind of creeped out by the manikins adorned in former military wear. I swear to god they were looking right at us and when we left the room, they would carry on a polishing their guns, smoking their cigarettes, or relaying a message through their cells phones the size of a shoe box inside of their glass cabinets.

The bunker was set in a lovely park which had an exhibition of at least fifty aerial photos taken around the world. We strolled through the park, taking in the massive pictures that were at least 4 x 6 feet and propped up on stands and lights overhead for viewing at night. I gasped when I came across one that was a shot of the brilliant fall colours in Quebec. It was so nice to see Canada recognized for its beauty amongst so many other fascinating places in the world.

We also stopped for a few minutes to watch a group of five men playing a game of Bocce ball and I took a couple of photos and said that our friend, David Serafino, would have loved to see this.

Since France was one hour ahead of us, we miscalculated our return trip and missed the ferry back to Dover. We had to wait an hour and a half for the next one so by the time we got back to Dartford it was just past midnight and no buses were running. When we tried to hail a taxi, we couldn’t get one to stop and this meant that we had to walk home (uphill most of the way) loaded with our purchase of 12 bottles of wine and a 3 litre cask of Riesling. We were pretty pooped by the time we got in the door. Next trip we are going to take a rolling suitcase and make sure that we watch the clocks for the time!

The rain in Spain falls mainly...

Well, our week in Majorca, Spain was interesting. Considering that Rick booked everything on-line, we travelled without any glitches. I tend to be a little leery of calling a toll free number and booking a trip that way, but we saved ourselves a bundle and when it was all said and done it cost 477 pounds for the week for flights and hotel for the three of us. I am quite satisfied that it was a good deal.

Our room was on the 9th floor and it had a specular view of the mountains, and the bay of Palma Nova. However, there was an odour that was coming from the bathroom and it was quite offensive. It was a cross between a swamp and an outhouse. We tried airing out our room and flushing the toilet and running the water in the tub and the sink, but we just couldn't shake the smell. When we complained to the front desk, they sent up a guy and he put some god awful concoction down the drains and told us to wait for 50 minutes. By this point, we felt we had been fumigated and stood outside with our drinks because our eyes were starting to water and I had a coughing jag from the smell. After 15 minutes we decided to start flushing the toilet and running the taps as we weren't sure if the Spanish speaking fellow really meant 15 and not 50. Mostly, it was because we got to the point that we couldn't even stand outside our room without being overtaken by the stench.

With the flushing rampage complete, we decided the best thing to do was head out and explore the area and check out the beaches. Palma Nova certainly caters to the British tourists as there was one pub after another serving chips, beans, peas, chips, beans, and more peas. And it also seemed that all of the pubs had the football game on and guys would be gathered round, beer in hand, yelling at the screens. Despite this, we were able to find a lot of other interesting places to eat and discovered the local grocery store so that we could take food back to our room and cook. Wine was dirt cheap and we were able to make ourselves some nice meals to go with it.

The area was lovely and clean and we had several beaches to choose from. Since we were there at the tail end of the travel season for the island, there was ample room to roam on the beaches and the board walks were not crowded with tourists. This enabled Rick and Chan to enjoy several games of Frisbee and I read peacefully and soaked up the sun on the sand.

Throughout the week, we visited the shops in the area, took a train to Inka to check out the markets, and rode the local bus to the city of Palma. The funny thing is, every once in a while, we would get a whiff on the streets of something that smelled a lot like our hotel bathroom and we started to wonder if there was a sewage problem on the island. The temperatures were in the low 20's, which suited us just fine, but by Thursday, we got a huge wind and rain storm and I thought that our patio doors in our room would shatter. We could also see the sailboats anchored in the bay, bobbing up and down in the grey and angry looking water and I thought of the night last summer when we were in a similar situation in our Northern 29. I suddenly felt super nauseous. It could have been, however, from the remnants of the toilet fumigation.

After the storm, the almighty smell, and a dog across the street that wouldn't stop barking, we asked if we could change rooms. The staff at the hotel was very helpful and nodded their heads when we mentioned the dog. I guess the owners go away and leave it there alone on a regular basis. In fact, several travellers have mentioned the barking dog on travel advisory websites. I felt sorry for the pooch, but I couldn't take his endless yapping either.

Since the hotel was closing for the season the day of our departure, there was an entire wing that was empty so we were given the option to move there for our last two nights. The room lacked the view, but there was no smell (thus abandoning our sewage theory), no barking dog, and we were able to finally get a couple nights of undisturbed sleep. That evening, however, Channing started to complain of a sore throat and by the next day, he had come down with a cold and was feeling pretty rough. It was a good job that we were heading home the next day.

What I liked best about Palma Nova was how easy it was to get around the area by foot and by local bus (very cheap way to travel at about 2 Euros each) and the beaches were clean and picturesque. It reminded me a bit of Daytona Beach in Florida and I can say that I would not want to go there during peak times because I am sure it would be party central.

Going away on a trip is a nice break, but it also makes you appreciate your own home too. I know, given how Chan felt by the time we did get back, he was pretty happy to climb into his own bed. Rick and I were content to just lay there and listen to the sounds of the traffic going by and say, “Listen, no barking dog!”

My Idea of a Good Time

Here is one of the long boats on the canal. Most have beds, kitchens and bathing facilities. It was interesting to see the drivers make their way with these through the canal. They were responsible for switching the locks (no lock masters here) and we wondered how on earth they eventually turned around and apparently it is not done that quickly or easily. Still I was enviously when I watched the boaters putter by with a cup of tea in hand and waving to fools like us gawking at them.

To Be or Not to Be

Took a tour of Stratford, and among other things, had our photos taken at Shakespeare's house. It was a cool and very blustery day, leaves and dirt were whipping around like mad. But we loved the town, the little shops, and brick streets. Most of all, we were fascinated by the long boats that cruised up the canals. Makes me want to sell the sail boat and pick up a long boat and tour England's waterways (not Rick - he likes more action and these boats just chug along).

Our British Thanksgiving

We couldn't find a turkey or pumpkin, but we did have a roast chicken and stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy. Not to mention that the wine here is so reasonable, that we enjoyed a bottle or two of that. Here's a shot of Chan and I in the kitchen before we chowed down on our dinner. Holy cats, the boy has stretched a metre or two! I think it is the British sausage rolls.

Happy Thanksgiving

home•sick Pronunciation: \ˈhōm-ˌsik\Function: adjective, Meaning: longing for home and family while absent from them, home•sick•ness noun

Have you wondered why immigrants create a little Italy or China town? Are you embarrassed to admit that you actually feel miffed at their inability to depart from the lifestyles of their home countries? After all, what is wrong with the country to which they have moved? Didn’t they leave their homelands for a better life? How can they possible integrate into a new culture if they cling onto the past?

Living in England, as a Canadian, is not a drastic leap, but that still doesn’t stop me from missing some things that were a part of my everyday life. Most of all, it has made me more cognisant of how an immigrant must feel when they come to Canada. At least I am not dealing with a language barrier or a lack of family nearby. Still, it feels strange sometimes to be away from my good friends and my eldest son and the step kids, my house in the country, my long term job, and the stores where I would frequently shop. Suddenly, I can understand how challenging it must be for an immigrant that is trying to shop for food and can’t figure out what is a good deal and what is not. How painful it must be when they get on a bus and can’t understand why they ended up at the wrong stop. How strange it must feel when a holiday that was celebrated at home is not recognized in their new country. So if homesickness is the longing for home and family while absent from them, then one could appreciate that the remedy for this is to be with home and family. And since home and family can be many miles away, would it not be reasonable to expect that one would be entitled to replace it somehow, someway?