Monthly Archives: September 2017

I have had the most fantastic few days in the fabulous city of Barcelona. It reminded me so much of Melbourne – same light, and the passages evocative of the laneways. Great cafes selling all sorts of tapas, and fabulous artisan craftspeople, especially through the beautiful area of El Born. The medieval streets above the old jousting haunts is just fantastic. It is like being caught in a labyrinth, with maze like narrow passages leading every way. As I wandered the streets, the tourists disappeared and I find myself strolling down narrow passages with craftspeople at work – fabulous jewellery, bags and leather intermingled with young men standing around smoking.

It is so nice to move away from La Rambla and the tourist promendade from Plaça de Catalunya in the centre, to the Christopher Columbus Monument at Port Vell. It is clear that security is tight, with police cars blocking entries to La Rambla. Today I have had a great morning at the Titanic exhibition that was really fantastic.

Now about that hotel, the lovely Yurbban Passage was an absolute find. It is brand new and located in El Born, so a lovely neighbourhood. The rooms are incredibly quiet and just lovely minimalist chic. The staff were fabulous, the hotel portable wifi saved me from getting totally lost (such a godsend), and breakfast was seriously yum. The pool on the roof had Barcelona’s best views, and sipping sangria with the view and lovely water for swimming was a bit sublime. Last night I was absolutely stuffed so thought I would have a crappy dinner in the hotel – well gee I was wrong – the most superb dinner of calamari, tomato crunchy something and crema catalana. I found out that the restaurant only opened last week with a Michelin starred chef so I don’t expect the restaurant to be quiet for long. The food was really amazing and amongst the best I have ever eaten.

My flight is delayed two hours, so it will be late when I finally get to London, but thankfully I don’t fly home until Sunday so it will all be OK. I am highly amused by the gutter mouthed British young things all going off about a delayed plane – I was tempted to give the toughen up princess retort but one can only guess what I would get in return.

Well, hard to think up enough superlatives for the genius of Gaudí. I came for the Sagrada Familia and it definitely didn’t disappoint. Antoni Gaudí’s temple to geometry soared upwards with the most fantastic stain glassed window. The light was pouring through and everywhere I looked there were wild shapes of all sizes. About 70% of the temple is finished, but it won’t be complete until 2026. The outside was so bizarre, with stone that looked like it was running down the sides, amazing figurines and the iconography of Gothic and Byzantine ages. I had a great taste of Gaudí with trips to the Casa Vincens, Parc Guell, Colonia Guell, El Drac de Gaudí at Finca Güell, and Casa Batlló and a taste of fabulous tapas at a lovely small café near Basílica Santa Maria del Mar. The weather is totally gorgeous and it is so nice to walk in a t-shirt and swim in the lovely pool of my super cool abode. No Gaudí there just super chic minimalism.

The Hotel Bastille Marais was just perfect. Oh so quiet, with a large comfy bed and copious hot water (once I managed to figure out the taps). The staff on the desk were totally lovely and couldn’t do enough to make my stay an enjoyable one. I do get stressed in France. Not totally sure why, but the language freaks me out. Silly really, as I am ok at reading some French and can generally figure out what most people are saying. I find the Parisian Bistrot terrifying though as I am convinced I will end up feasting on horse. I do feel much safer with the fromage, but then not that different to home really, as not that keen on meat at the best of time.

The location of the Hotel Bastille Marais couldn’t have been better. It was about half way between Republic and Bastille so walkable really to everywhere. Super easy to get to  Gare Du Nord, and a lovely stroll to Gare de Lyon for this morning’s train. Strolling was far preferable to the bikes amongst the traffic – had to close my eyes a few times as young girls without helmets swerved between totally mental drivers.

I have just arrived at Valence Rhone Alpes Sud so I guess it won’t be long until I drop in to Spain. The scenery outside has been beautiful so far. The small villages picture perfect as we have sped across France at 300km an hour.

I can now see the Alps out the window and sitting upstairs on this super comfortable train is just so much more pleasurable than flying. The sun is bright and the train is surrounded by hills. Terracotta roofs, church steeples and the occasional hilltop tower are nestled beneath the peaks that just have a smattering of snow. I have a bossy older French woman sitting in my assigned seat so am playing musical chairs as new people get on. It is OK though, as I get to see a different view out different sides of the train. It is a gorgeous day outside and I just feel so damn lucky to be here.

After my cheese picnic of last night, I woke up feeling positively sluggish. I had Fiona’s list so dragged myself in to the shower and headed off list in hand. After a 30km walk I ended up limping in to the pharmacie in search of something for my shoes as my feet have been completely battered. Today it was hours spent across the 3rd and 4th arrondissements

in Le Marais. I started in Place Des Vosges and wandered for miles and miles and miles. My slow day was about the pace, and the constant stops for a sit in another lovely square. Breakfast/lunch was a beautiful apricot, peach and apple tart from an enticing boulangerie which I savoured in one of Paris’s lovely garden spots. From shoes in rue de Saintonge to jam at La Chambre aux Confitures at 60 Rue Vieille du Temple I followed my sister’s directions.

I cursed the heaviness of my suitcase as the Clementine confiture was stunning, but it needed to stay on the shelf as I have an Easy Jet flight between here and home. I got myself totally lost in Le Marais and must have walked up and down rue de Bretagne, rue de Turenne and rue Vieille du Temple a million times. It was so lovely. Again, I walked for miles to the Boutique Maile, 6 Place de la Madeleine to taste mustard and lusted after the gorgeous copper pans at E. Dehillerin at 18-20, rue Coquilliere.

I do find the massive Parisian train stations totally confusing and got completely disoriented in Les Halles. I am not a fan of Starbucks but have never felt so pleased to see a Starbucks for a café latte. I had a lovely chat to a gorgeous young woman who kept apologising for her English – there was one very clear fact – her English was 500% better than my French. I staggered on to the train to Gare de Lyon. I was keen to make sure I knew exactly where I have to start my Spanish adventure. My boots are now filled with gel insoles but I think even those will provide little relief – my poor feet have been trashed with 100s of km of UK and Parisian streets.

I just loved my oh so quick train trip across the UK, in the tunnel and then the French countryside. I had done the trip in the dark and the heavy snow but had never done it in brilliant sunshine and it was totally fabulous. I arrived in to Gare Du Nord and changed to line 5 and a quick trip to Breguet-Sabin station. The tree lined street of Boulevard Richard Lenoir is so lovely and it was fantastic to watch people of all ages playing boules in the sand. Of course, being Paris, everyone not a child had a glass of red wine in hand.

I had a long walk through the Marais and a wander through Marché des Enfants Rouges, the oldest covered market in Paris. There was no sight of enfants clothed in rouge but plenty of stylish Parisians lunching on Moroccan fare. I had a massive walk down Boulevard Beaumarchais, through the Bastille and down Boulevard Henry IV. I strolled the edge of the Seine past Notre Dame and down to Du Louvre.

What really struck me was the enormous police and army presence since I was last here. I did feel slightly anxious a few times at the massive machine guns carried by the men in camouflage attire.

The jardin des Tuileries were as beautiful as ever but I was rather pleased to see the metro at Concorde. I caught the train back and called in to the Franprix for baguette, my favourite Roquefort cheese, and wine for my bed top picnic. I watched French TV and was highly entertained by a doco on Wills and Kate – couldn’t understand most of it but sat and nibbled away. I think I must have passed out as the tele was till blaring when I woke at 1am – of course, spent the rest of the night swearing about eating so much cheese – but oh I do love it.

After I left Cambridge, I had a cross country trek to Keele. The lovely Gemma drove me to Nottingham and I then trained it from Nottingham to Derby and then changed to the train to Stoke on Trent. The cabbie got me to Jan and John’s quite quickly and there were copious amounts of tea ready. Jan and John are always the most fantastic hosts and the usual welcome mat was out. Their house is lovely and huge so it could be filled up with sister wives. Grace was also staying, so poor John had a harem of Aussie women. We kept laughing about Big Love and giggled as we all went our different ways and then returned to John in the evening. The highlight one evening was the hedgehog that Reggie found for the sister wives amusement.

Jan and John are so lucky to be living on campus and as we walked down past Keele Hall and through the woodlands it was like a scene from Pride and Prejudice. I really expected Mr Darcy to emerge from the lake. Again, it was busy, but I loved spending a few days with the sister wives and John. I had great meetings at Keele, and Sue, Head of School, was totally lovely and I expect to be back there soon.

The train from Stoke to London Euston is super quick. John delivered me at the station and made sure I knew where I had to be. The only downside has been that I lost my damn glasses somewhere and had to buy a cheap pair of magnifiers. I have been experiencing awful travel sickness and I do wonder whether it is something to do with the glasses – but can’t see without them so just have to sip lemon and ginger tea and put up with it.

Euston to the lovely Pullman Hotel was a really short walk, and it was so nice to sit quietly and feast on Scottish salmon before falling in to bed. I knew I had to be up to catch the train to Paris from St Pancras so of course tossed and turned all night.

How cool is it that I was whisked from St Pancras to Gare Du Nord so quickly – from the Pullman in London to the lovely Hotel Bastille Marais in under three hours is a bit surreal.

I had a totally fabulous work day with Karen. We sorted the journals, Banff, and made a good start on solving the ills of the world. Lunch at the Tate was lovely and we walked, talked, walked, talked and talked some more. By the time I hugged Karen goodbye at Euston, we were as the Brits say, completely knackered.

I worked in bed for a while, as have had three PhDs to examine while I have been here, but then headed to platform 9 and ¾ for my train to Hogwarts. Well almost – Cambridge has that Hogwarts feel about it.

My time in Cambridge was completely packed so really had little time to do much but work. I caught up with the lovely Sarah, and good British fish and chips at the pub on Monday night was a real highlight.

I was lucky to stay in the very swish Cohen Court at Churchill College. Cohen Court has a Grand Design feel to it and has won British architectural awards. The architectural websites state that it was designed to ‘pay homage to the “picturesque Brutalism” of the original 1960s campus architecture’. Wikipedia tells me that Brutalism comes from the French notion of raw, and I guess there is something raw about the brown brick and concrete that is Churchill. There was nothing brutal about the lovely lined timber box around a treed central courtyard that was my home for a few days.

I did manage to fit in a late night soiree at my favourite, The Eagle. The Eagle is Cambridge’s oldest pub and pretty amazing to sit sipping wine in a pub that dates back to 1667. The graffiti done by World War 2 airmen is still intact on the ceiling and we had a lovely night drinking far too much wine and then staggering to find a cab past the oh so quiet King’s – pretty incredible I think that people have been doing the same stagger for 350 years.

Had the funniest day yesterday. Arrived at Euston Station to meet the fabulous Karen for a full day of work. I was standing on platform 2, tapping away on my laptop that was perched precariously on a post. A lovely London train man came up and told me not to be perturbed, but I was standing in the middle of a police training exercise. Seems the new British transport police were learning about how to deal with rude and difficult customers. For once, this wasn’t me. Two people were playing the parts of rudeness, but they didn’t seem rude at all. The police were also very self-contained. My lovely train man friend told me that the English are very refined and everyone behaves themselves – which is why the police don’t need to carry guns.

This was quite a funny conversation as the cabby the day before told me that the English have been blowing each other up, or someone has been blowing them up for centuries. I do love a good cabbie. I got a full history lesson from the Templar Knights of the Crusades through Northern Ireland to today. You gotta love a ride in a black cab; a history lesson and a half hours’ entertainment for 10 quid.

Thursday, I had a day off and walked 31km through the stunning English sunshine. I had never been to the Roman ruins below the Guildhall. The ever-helpful Wikipedia tells me that London’s Roman Amphitheatre was built in AD70 for gladiators to flex their muscles in Roman martial arts to the screaming scores of blood thirsty Londoners throwing Jaffas as they fought and died. Well the bit about the Jaffas I made up, but the rest is apparently true.

When I told the delightful wee bairns that I was off to see the Roman ruins, the very sensible Scotland patronisingly reminded me that I was in the wrong city and the wrong country. He obviously doesn’t know his history well, but pretty cool that the amphitheatre was only discovered after Scotland was born.

Seems they were digging up British soil to build the new Guildhall art shack to house the treasures of the City of London Corporation when they stumbled upon the Roman arena. Also seems that the wooden benches of the arena were at one time kept warm by 7000 Londinium bottoms watching criminals be executed. My sedate 31km stroll had taken me through Henrietta Harriet’s Clerkenwell. I did feel slightly relieved that the Guildhall slaughterhouse was well buried beneath the soil in the 1840s or I might not have been here to enjoy the lovely English sunshine.