Sleeping under the stars

On Sunday we set off on an epic walk. Over the bridge to the seriously lovely Granville Island. The Island was once the heart of Industrial Canada but the statement that the only industry here now is serious art, food and a great market was supported by the old painted silos  overlooking the happenings on Granville. We stopped for breakfast on the water and then took off around Stanley Park a bracing 12km stroll around the Vancouver seawall. The colors were unbelievably beautiful with the Fall changing the maple trees to the wonderful shades of orange and red. As we headed toward the park, the quiet streets of Vancouver, with its wonderful waterfront views overlooked by the majestic Rockies, was interrupted by zombies giving us the most fearful stares. The streets were filled with ghosts, ghouls and giggling Asian girls dressed as pumpkins who were collecting the rubbish of the locals who were out to see the Halloween parade. Halloween will happen for us on Wakiki beach but the Vancouver locals were getting started a couple of weeks early. Well we walked and walked and walked. Canadian geese, amazing views, totem poles and 35000 steps later we wandered back to our great hotel and had a wee drink to celebrate why we love Canada.

The flight from Melbourne to Vancouver was super easy thanks to an upgrade with QANTAS. Even without the upgrade it was so easy as I had never seen LA so empty. Got to customs and was the first person in line so a very warm US ‘hello mam’, finger prints and out into the LA sunshine (smog).

Well, things were so straightforward. Picked up my bags and transferred them in the transfer area to wait my Alaskan flight. Hmmm had never flown Alaskan Air before and had visions of Ella dogs pulling the plane out – but it was fantastic. Great service, heaps of leg room and smiling staff.

Arrived into beautiful Vancouver into spectacular sunshine. Woops I think I have made a huge mistake with the case full of clothes – well until I got to the arrivals area and had the endless wait of watching every suitcase go around except my own! It became clear that somewhere between LA and BC my suitcase had been waylaid. Forms complete, into a cab and a drive through what I think is one of the most livable places on Earth. With Vancouver at the top, or near top of all lists, I don’t think I am the only one that could easily just transport my life to the beautiful harbour city.

Jude had recommended the Blue Horizon hotel. I wasn’t sure what to expect but it was fantastic. Right in the centre of Vancouver in Robson Street with super nice staff and great rooms. The views over Vancouver across the city and to the sea were amazing.

Carol and I walked down to Gastown and had great dinner in the Flying Pig restaurant. Gastown is Vancouver’s oldest neighborhood and is full of great shops, cafes and the gaslights that make the streets twinkle at night. Well I am sure they are now electricity but they do add a gorgeous light to the streets. Gastown was named after a Yorkshireman ‘Gassy’ Deighton who opened the first saloon their in 1867. Our saloon for dinner was just lovely. We had to acclimatize  to the over the top service but we were back in the land of serious tipping.

Now about the luggage. Went back to the hotel and got a call to say my bag had gone to London to visit the Queen but was on its way back and should arrive sometime during the night. What the? How does ones bag get from LA to London? I did ask the man on the phone whether my bag would get the frequent flyer points and was told politely in a very serious way ‘Mam only people earn points’ !!!

Clare and Paulio had talked so fondly of the lovely birthplace of Puccini it was on my must do list. From Pisa, a really simple 20-minute train trip to the beautiful walled town. Being Sunday, mass was on in full and the singing as I walked through the walls was just beautiful. There was something just so peaceful wandering around the inner walls of the gorgeous Tuscan town. Sitting drinking coffee along a small street with many ageing grandpapas pushing their precious cargo in strollers was lovely. I thought of Clare as the petalon of eager cyclists pulled up for their morning espresso. The promenade around the outer walls was lovely. Andrew, a planner at work had asked me to take some photos of the ramparts for his classes and it was a totally enjoyable thing to do as I strolled the perimeter of this lovely town.

The flight from Gatwick to Pisa was so easy. We arrived in Pisa at about 9.30pm and the transfer from the airport to the city was a few minutes on a bus. Quite surreal to think you can just nick off to Italy for a weekend. Decided to grab a hotel really close to the station just because it was late. Was a comfortable business hotel and would have been just fine but they had limited vacancies for the next few days. Had decided just to stay in Pisa to save the constant packing and unpacking and train it from there. My last visit to Pisa had been a quick one with Al so thought it would be also nice to spend a few days just wandering. Whilst the tower is spectacular, the surrounding streets are lovely and peaceful, not surrounded by the young Japanese girls with their phones attached to long poles taking endless selfies.

Booking.com showed what looked like a lovely hotel with vacancies for a really reasonable price. The Hotel Bologna was a lovely find in a gorgeous street and very close to everything. I had read that Pisa has the best food in Tuscany and what I have eaten has been fantastic. Sitting in the piazza eating assorted meats and cheese in the Italian sun is just as close to perfect as one can get. It is not as hot as when Al and I were here so much more pleasant. The sun, however, has done what it should with the magnificent pomodoro and I have eaten the gorgeous Tuscan fruits at almost every meal.

The drive to the home of the Old Bard was pretty easy and wandered through the lamplit town in search of a good English pub meal. The drive the next day through the pretty town of Bourton on the Water was long but lovely. A stop in Bath was an enjoyable break and I once again enjoyed the visit to the Roman baths – felt like I was getting ready for the Italian escape

I had been reading in the English and Aus papers of the sonar work around the Henge. Since my last visit to the monolith rocks a whole new visitor centre had opened and the landscape was being redeveloped so the feeling of the place would not be interrupted by a dirty great big highway through the middle. You could still see the highway in the distance but the trip to Stonehenge was now via a bus. Obama had visited a few days before and it was lovely to have the place with far less visitors. It was late in the day so we wandered in the waning light and drunk in the magnificence of the rocks.

There was a moment’s temptation as we passed the tunnel to take the turn to Paris but work called the next morning. I had read reports of Gravesend being one of the worst places to live in the UK but it was seriously fine. A great days work and then the drive to Gatwick for the Italian escape.

I had a totally wonderful dinner with my friend Fiona who lives about 30 minutes from Leeds. Fiona and Simon, and their delightful girls, live in the small village of Otley. Cobbled streets, four story Georgian houses and pubs covered in ivy reminded me that I was in England. The Chevons behind and the moors in front reminded me that I was in Yorkshire. They cooked a seriously great meal and it was just so lovely to sit in someone’s kitchen. Fiona had stayed with me in Bendigo so it felt rather fitting to now spend time in her kitchen. The wonderful stone flags on the floor in front of the Aga type cooker, and the great night sitting around the country style table, was a welcome reprieve from restaurants and hotels. Poor Simon, Fiona and I didn’t draw breath for the first hour.

I found my way back to the Leeds hotel with reasonable ease with a list of where to go the next day on the way South. With the GPS set, the first stop was the home of the Bronte’s. A gorgeous, picture perfect steep village. The walk up, and the moors behind, provided the perfect backdrop to the four Bronte’s amazing literary prowess – well climbing those hills would give one plenty of thinking time and stories of Heathcliff surely would take your mind off the puffing as you trooped up the cobblestone hill.

The Parsonage was unbelievably gorgeous. The tiny furniture reminded me of how damn mammoth we must seem to the ghosts hiding in the corners. I did have to bob my head a few times. I often think houses have feelings deep within their walls and this one just had the most peaceful feeling. I really could picture the girls sitting sharing their stories in the tiny living room by the glow of candlelight.

From the Brontes to Salt Mill. My friend Fiona thought I would love the art of David Hockney. She met my girls (Juno and Hebes that is) in Bendigo and thought I would rather like the galleries of a fellow daschund lover. In true Peter Alexander style the touches of daxies were everywhere. Salt Mills is amazing and across each floor were the most tasteful galleries. Amazing Danish designers – Oh the chairs I would have easily packed a whole container and shipped home.

I wandered around the homewares and had great lunch in the Salt Mills diner – with the theme of daschunds I expected hot dogs (and I think they were on the menu) but had gorgeous lunch. I stood for ages trying to figure out whether I could fit in one of David’s prints – I really couldn’t resist and thought I can always post it home. It fitted perfectly in the suitcase so Hebe and Juno asleep on an English armchair are coming home with me.

Had a great day of contrasts. Travelled by bike throughout London. Went to Brixton market on the recommendation of my friend Fiona and had a great wander through very multicultural London. I could have been anywhere in the world and I found the contrasts between what seemed the long term residents of Brixton, and the new outer London gentrifiers, totally fascinating. The mixture of great multicultural food and then the women in their neatly ironed chinos, liberty shirts and blonde ponytails was fantastic. The very well behaved dogs trotting along past ‘cool’ looking hoody wearing dudes. I left Brixton on the trusty bike back through oh so chic Kensington and Chelsea and loved my ride down small streets with very James Bond type men lurking around in front of Bentley’s with ear pieces in their ears outside rather swish inner London abodes. I wandered through very gorgeous furniture stores around Sloane Square and had the very best of weekends.