Two Days in Dubai


Two Days in Dubai

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November 2012

We caught a Virgin flight from London Heathrow to Dubai International Airport. A taxi then took us to the Sheraton Hotel in Dubai Creek.

The Sheraton was lovely, with a beautiful foyer and our room had great views across the creek to the city. When it was clear we could see all the main sky scrapers. When it was hazy we could watch the boats lined up in the creek.

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Day One: David was working, so I decided to try and find the Gold Souk. I don’t speak any Arabic, so was nervous about using public transport on my own, so I wanted to visit somewhere I could walk to.

This was also my first visit to a muslim country, so I was unsure of what was appropriate. I asked the concierge, who assured me that I did not need to cover my head unless I planned to visit a mosque and my dress (long sleeves, high neck line, long skirt) was sufficiently modest. She said I was safe to walk around on my own but it was very hot so most women didn’t walk.

I set off, armed with a map and an iphone which I didn’t know how to use. The hotel was right next to the creek so for a while I was distracted by all the boats unloading. It was hugely interesting to watched relatively small boats which were stacked high with everything from plastic chairs to washing machines. It was amazing that some of them had made it across the sea, they seemed much too heavily laden.

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There were also lots of men. While I was staring at the cargoes, they were staring at me. It felt uncomfortable so I moved on.

I found a shopping area on a main road. Stopped to look at small supermarkets and shops selling plastic shoes and cheap handbags. All the other women were wearing black abayas (long cloaks that cover other clothes) and despite the heat, I was tempted to do the same, as I found all the men stared at me and I didn’t like it.

Found a cheap clothes shop and bought a long black tunic and hijab (black headscarf.) The tunic was fine but I didn’t know how to tie the hijab and my attempts looked silly (I looked more like a washer woman from a child’s story book!) I would have asked a random woman in the shop but no one seemed to speak English. Decided to wear it anyway. If I had found a full burqa I would have bought one. I love the thought of being able to hide. Would have been great for the school run when the children were young or for nipping to the shops in pyjamas.

Lots of the shops had interesting textiles and fancy shaped coffee pots. There were also lots of mosques. Whatever your religion, you cannot deny that mosques are pretty. I once read that the castle in Disneyland is based on a mosque, and I can see why.

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I found the area where my map showed the gold souk should be, but I couldn’t see it anywhere. Tried to find someone who spoke English. Failed. Then spotted a small shop where they took in sewing, run by Chinese people. I went in and asked if they spoke mandarin, which they did. Excellent (Note, if, like me, you are not very good at learning languages, learn mandarin. It is the only one you need. There are Chinese people in every country I have ever visited.) They said I was actually right next to the gold souk but at the back. They pointed out how to find the entrance.

I looked around the souk. Window displays full of gold. Also, a lot of dodgy looking men suggesting I might like to follow them to buy a fake watch or designer handbag. I didn’t. The whole souk seemed to have only men in it. Some wore European style clothing, some wore traditional white thobes (Arabic dress.) I saw very few women and they seemed to all be wearing full burqas and escorted by men.

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Left the souk and tried to find my way back to the hotel. Got thoroughly lost. Found a tiny spice souk. A very friendly man (who spoke excellent English) showed me round. It smelt wonderful and was very interesting. I thought about buying some frankincense (just because I had never seen it before.) Didn’t. Then spent the rest of the trip wishing I had and also knowing I would never be able to find my way back again.

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Continued to be lost for some time. There were lots of people, so I wasn’t worried, it felt safe. Found a main road. It was busy, full of cars and also a man pushing a hand cart. Found the waterfront. It was beginning to get dark.

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There was a call to prayer. It drifted across the water, a lovely sound I thought. All the men stopped their activities and knelt on little prayer mats to pray. I didn’t see any women praying and wondered why.

I realised I was at the wrong waterfront, this was not the creek where my hotel was. Felt slightly concerned that maybe women are not supposed to walk around after dark on their own. Managed to find someone in a shop who spoke English and got directions. Returned to the hotel unscathed.

 

David finished work. We had dinner in the hotel, then got a taxi to the main part of the city. Saw the sky scrapers (but I think you had a better view from our hotel.) Went to a shopping street and I bought a cushion cover for my collection. Also bought some gifts and a weirdly shaped tea pot. I bought a white throbe and a ghutra (checkered headscarf) and egal (black rope you tie scarf with) for the dressing up box at home.

Day Two: David didn’t have to work so we got a taxi to Royal Mirage Hotel for breakfast. It was beautiful.

We walked around a bit. It was very pretty, very clean (and very ‘fake’.) There was even a souk, but a rather sanitised version of the ones I had visited (and a lot more expensive.)

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We had an extremely nice breakfast sitting on an air conditioned balcony.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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We left via the main reception area, which had the darkest black men I have ever seen, dressed in costume opening car doors as they arrived. I asked if I could have my photograph taken and they were very friendly. I wonder if they mind that their job is just opening doors for rich people and being looked at as a novelty. Maybe they are just happy for the money or are students doing it temporarily. I hope so.

 

Went back to our hotel. Drove via a beach which we went to look at. Not allowed to take photographs because of modesty laws.

We had arranged a trip through the hotel with Arabian Adventures (arabian-adventures.com ) and were going to see the desert. We were advised to wear sturdy boots for walking on the sand and trousers for when riding on camels. Very exciting!

We were collected from the hotel by a silver 4×4. We then drove to two other hotels and collected other tourists, before driving off to the Dubai Conservation Desert. We then met up with several other Landrovers, all identical. They stopped and changed the tyre pressure, then we set off.

First we were driven to a small camp where we watched a falcon display. Then we were taken for a short camel ride. Great fun.The key advice would be, lean back hard when they stand up. Camels really stink. They also had mouth guards, so I am guessing that they bite. My children will be pleased to learn that I do not wish to ever own a camel.

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Then we went ‘wadi bashing’, which basically involved driving very fast across the dunes. It was not unlike being on a roller coaster. I was grateful for the seat belts and roll bars, not that we needed the latter. One man felt car sick, which added a little tension to the trip.

We stopped to take photographs of the sunset. I think it is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. The whole desert seemed to change colour as the sun dipped.

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We then drove to a camp. It was lovely, all set up in the style of a beduin camp. We sat on cushions around long low tables and watched belly dancers in the candle light. We were then given a shisha supper, which was delicious. Although we didn’t know anyone else, there was a lovely atmosphere and people chatted and were very relaxed (perhaps it was sharing the common bond of not being sicked on by the poor travel sick man!)

 

Finally, we were all returned to our hotels.

An excellent day from start to finish.

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If you enjoyed this, you will love my new book: The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary.
I have always written a diary on holiday, so last Christmas, I decided to find all my old diaries and blogs, and make a book for my children. However, several other people also asked for a copy, so I have written a public version – it’s available on Amazon and has been described as “The Durrells meet Bill Bryson”!

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The UK link is here:

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St Croix, U.S. Virgin Island


St Croix, U.S. Virgin Islands

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1999 Family Diary (While we were living in New Jersey.)

Sunday March 28th: I made pancakes for tea. After their baths, the children went to bed in their travelling clothes. They were so excited!

Monday: Woke 3:30, left house at 4:00 am.
Drove to Newark and parked in long term parking.
Monorail to airport. Checked in 5:30.
Boarded plane, all going well. Taxied to runway, then returned to gate because pilot felt sick!
Delayed 3 hours. Phoned and sorted out connecting flight.
Finally flew to San Juan.Airport felt dirty and I was worried about eating anything there.

   Got a tiny plane to St Croix. No bags. David left me and children in a nearby Pizza Hut while he went to find our cases. Was suddenly aware that I was on my own, in a strange country, with three small children, no money (left purse in car) or phone and a food bill. Hoped David hadn’t done a runner!

   David returned and we drove to Colony Cove (800-828-0746) Our condo nice. It had tiled floors (good for sweeping up sand), a three bedrooms and two bathrooms , a sitting area and a little kitchen. You opened the curtains and there was the beach, right there. Breath taking.

Tuesday: Shopped in local town and had breakfast.
Walked along beach, found a huge conch shell.
Swam in pool and played on beach.

IMG_1833In the afternoon, David smashed up the coconut so the children could see inside. It was old and dry and we had another one which wasn’t ripe, so we couldn’t eat them but it was interesting. Rubbed the milk on our skin (was sure I’d read somewhere it was good for you.)

  We drove along the south coast. Very barren, no palm trees, lots of cactus and rocks. Went to the eastern most tip of the US. Walked down to the beach and played in the sand.

Thank you for reading this extract. The rest of the blog is included in my new book:

The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary.

If you enjoyed this, you will love The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary.
I have always written a diary on holiday, so last Christmas, I decided to find all my old diaries and blogs, and make a book for my children. However, several other people also asked for a copy, so I have written a public version – it’s available on Amazon and has been described as “The Durrells meet Bill Bryson”!

Why not buy a copy today? I think it will make you laugh.

The US link is here:

https://www.amazon.com/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015525&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The India link is here:

https://www.amazon.in/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015429&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The UK link is here:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1549014970&sr=8-2&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

 

China


China

A Trip to Shanghai, Beijing and Xi’An

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Excerpts from a diary, September 2013

Before leaving the UK we had to get visas to visit China. This takes much longer if your trip includes going to Tibet. You can apply for the visa online. In the space where it asks who has invited you, it is acceptable to put the name and address of hotels where you will be staying. We went to the embassy in London to collect the visas.

Friday: Taxi arrived at 11 (David still packing) and drove us to Heathrow.
Virgin flight to Shanghai. Sat opposite a boy who I swear is an actor but who claimed heworked for Ebay.
Shangai airport was very efficient. We had to give ‘customer feedback’ at immigration by ticking smiley faces.

Taxi to Le Meridian Hotel (艾美酒店) on Nanjing Dong Lu. Note: Taxi drivers do not speak English nor read the English version of hotel names. If you do not speak mandarin, there is a man at the taxi rank who will translate for you but you will need to queue. It is much faster if you go online before leaving home and print off the Chinese name from the website.
Driver was friendly and found my bad Chinese very amusing. Chatted a bit.

     Le Meridian Hotel was lovely (we have stayed there on previous trips.) The lobby is dark with pools of water and orchids. I thought they were glass disks – nearly got a wet foot! It also smells lovely, a jasmine perfume. Our room had great views down towards the Bund.

   Had tea at the hotel, then walked down Nanjing Dong Lu. This is a main shopping street and whilst the shops are fairly ubiquitous, the signs are all in Chinese script and there are street sellers selling unusual fruits and trying to entice you to buy fake designer goods (which is illegal, so best not to!) Walked through the ‘Peace’ (Fairmont) Hotel. They were having a tea dance. One day I want to stay there, it looks like a lovely old colonial hotel.

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Walked along the Bund. This is the water front to the Huangpu River. Across the water you can see the amazing skyline of Pudong (the financial district.) Along the Bund are all the old colonial buildings from Victorian times, it is like stepping back in time. It is lovely at night to walk along beside the river, seeing the lights and watching the city wake up for the evening.

     We walked back to the hotel via the lanes (I would not want to do this at night, though it might be safe.) There were lots of interesting shops, street hawkers and food stalls. One food seller was very insistent that I taste some fruit she was selling, she kept just telling me to taste it. So I did! How stupid. I cannot believe I did that. Worried I would be ill for rest of the trip.

    We ate dinner in the hotel buffet. This was a mistake. The food was lukewarm, not especially nice and cost a fortune. Next time we will eat in the lounge, which is included on David’s card (I am beginning to like him doing business trips. I can manage to not see him for a few days every so often if he gets nice treats on his travel cards!)

   The hotel lounge has drinks and hot snacks whenever we want them and also has a full breakfast and evening cocktails. It has big comfy sofas with great views towards the river.

   Went to bed exhausted. A really really long day (actually, two days rolled into one.) However, I didn’t sleep until about 4am. Not good.

Sunday: Breakfast in the lounge. I had a pastry. David had everything, including pork dumplings! Great coffee.

Went up to the hotel bar and took photos of Shanghai. It’s a good view and lots of non guests go there just to take photos.

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Walked along Bund, then old part of the city. Weather is great, very comfortable for walking. Found some alleyways. Tiny shops, stalls selling swatches of lace, fruits, stalls full of eggs, fish swimming in large plastic containers, meat, hens and ducks (alive) with their feet tied or in wooden crates (no water to drink, poor things). If you bought one, they took it to the back of the shop and killed and plucked it. One even had a ‘plucking machine’ which looked like a big metal barrel. The meat was not refrigerated, but was incredibly fresh. (I know my chinese friends in England do not like that the meat they buy in UK is several days old. They like to buy meat the day, if not the hour, that it is killed.)

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It was all hugely interesting as long as you didn’t ‘think’ or ‘feel’ too much. I think it is essential to remember that China is a different country with a whole different culture and history. It would be wrong to make value judgements I think when visiting as a tourist.

    We bought cans of lemonade. Before coming I had bought a box of wrapped straws online. I always carried a few in my bag, so it was possible to drink from a can without actually putting any potential germs into our mouths.
Saw several street sellers selling plain paged books. Bought one for 10RMB (£1) Why didn’t I buy more? Great for scribbling notes in.
Went to hotel gym and pool. China now has a law that you must wear hats in public pools. Bought a couple (£3 each.) Took me a while to work out locker system (I failed to notice there was a number on the key they gave me!)

    Decided to be brave and go out for dinner to a restaurant we had seen down a side street. It was very Chinese. There was a choice of starters: chickens feet, turtle heads or gristle. We picked a few safe dishes and had a lovely meal, loads of food and all for only £15.
I do not know however, how you would manage if you didn’t speak any mandarin. It would be completely fine in larger hotels, where everyone seems to speak excellent english. People here are very good at understanding very bad Chinese, but in shops and restaurants they speak absolutely no English at all and in smaller restaurants they may not even have a menu in English script.

Monday: Very little sleep again, finding the time difference difficult to adapt to. I tried a traditional breakfast of fried dough sticks. They involved more oil than I was hoping for and weren’t great. (I had hoped they would be a variation on a fresh donut. They weren’t!)

   We walked around the People’s Park (人民公园)。 Interesting to see old men playing mah jong, people practicing tai qi and children catching huge coy carp from the pond. (I am pretty sure they were not meant to catch the fish!)
Found a book shop. Stocked up on chinese books (they were so cheap. Will blast the weight limit on flight home!)
In the evening, walked to see the fountains outside the museum. They are floodlit but look much better from above through the hotel window. The park was rather foreboding at night, I am not entirely sure how safe it was to walk there.
We saw a man in the street lying on a trolley. He was very disabled and was begging. I find the beggars here upsetting. I have no idea what charity is available for them, if they need to beg to survive or if it is a huge scam and they are ‘organised’ by criminals (which is what I understood was the case in Mumbai with children begging.)

   Bed. No sleep. Really, no sleep. And not for a good reason. Could never be an international business traveller.

Tuesday: Posh hotel car drove us to Rainbow Bridge (虹桥)Railway Station to catch train to Beijing. Scrum (literally) to go through security at entrance to station.
Used station toilet. You have to take your own toilet paper but it was fairly clean. Found out which platform we needed and waited for gate to open.
Assumed there was going to be another scrum to enter platform so didn’t bother to queue. A mistake. Joined back of queue. Was a bit concerned as we had red tickets and most people had blue ones. Checked we were in the right place. We were. Train was nice. The seat was big, with plenty of leg room. We put our cases in the luggage rack at the end of the carriage. If travelling by train, try to avoid sitting at the front of a carriage as you only get half a window.
Do not sit next to the toilet. |
There was a tap that dispensed hot water and lots of people came to refill their drinking flasks. (Chinese people drink a lot of hot water. When my friends come for ‘coffee’ in England they usually just want boiled water.)

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   Arrived Beijing. Got a taxi. Here, no one spoke or read any english, so essential to have hotel chinese name.
A half hour ride was only £5.

    Staying at St Regis Hotel. Beautiful.
Went for a stroll. David looked at Arsenal shirts.
Had a drink in the hotel’s press bar. Very nice, lots of dark wood, textures, leather seats, candles and books.
Ate (English food) in hotel restaurant.
Watched a film then went to bed. Slept for 2 hours. Oh dear.

Wednesday: Had a coffee but no breakfast (David rather perturbed by this. I hadn’t realised before how much he likes regular meals.)

    Got underground train to Tian an Men Square. Underground was really easy, clean and safe. Only cost 20p for a ticket. All bags go through an X ray machine when you enter the station. The trains have an underground map next to the door and a light shows which station you are at, so it’s really easy to track your route.

    Tian an Men square is big. Really big. With no shade. There are pretty buildings (the old city gates) where the old walls used to be (before they bulldozed them.)

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    In the evening, went to Wangfujin Road. Found a really cool market. Really crowded. Fresh (still moving) scorpions on sticks waiting to be deep fried. All kinds of snacks, ranging from bird foetuses to insects and sea creatures.

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We weren’t tempted to taste any but was really interesting. So much noise and colour and people packed together. Lots of people (Chinese people) were taking photos of the snacks, so we felt very comfortable taking pictures.

Thursday: Went to DimSum restaurant in hotel (very nice and very good price.)
My stomach was bad, so I just had some congee (米粥)which was perfect, very plain – like a porridge made from rice.

   Went to The Forbidden City (故宫).

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    Bought the wrong tickets in the wrong place and ended up in the garden next door.
Found a back entrance into city but still had to queue up for the correct tickets.
Finally made it. It’s big and initially interesting but goes on for longer than you want it to.
It is all in individual courtyard sections, so it is hard to get a sense of the size of the whole thing. The front few courtyards were well preserved, repainted and clean. The back courtyards were faded, dusty with grass growing in the roof gutters. (I think I preferred the later courtyards.)
It was all very elaborate and impressive.
It was not too crowded or too hot (lots of seats in shade if you needed to rest.) |
It was very interesting (though in my opinion, not as interesting as the alleyways. Not much beats seeing people eating scorpions!)

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Went to Haagandas shop for ice cream. Perfect.

After dinner, drank hot chocolate and watched a big storm.

Tried to find a launderette on internet as we need to do some washing (hotel laundry prices really high. Would be cheaper to buy new clothes!)

Friday: Am finally sleeping for most of the night.
Pollution very bad today, you can hardly see beyond 200 yards. The air feels heavy when you breathe, I expect it causes problems if you have asthma.

   We tried and failed to find a launderette. Asked a few people. It seems you either take your clothes to an expensive chinese laundry/dry cleaners or travel a long way to a launderette (there is one at the university) but they do not have dryers. Decided to hand wash stuff.

   Walked around Qian Men Da Jie (前门大街) It was slightly ‘plastic, touristy, rebuilt’ but was colourful.

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Found some interesting alleys which were more real.

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It was a beautiful clear day (I think not worth going if the pollution is bad.) We could see Beijing on the horizon. The mountains were beautiful, green folds that went on forever.

   Went back on the underground to JingShan Park (景山).

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It is directly behind the Forbidden City and has a hill that overlooks the city. In many ways I preferred this to the city itself because you get a real sense of the size of it.
Some people were singing folk music so we had an ice cream and listened. Not a pleasant noise.
Then an extremely strangely dressed man walked past and the park attendants face was a picture! You have never seen such a look of complete distain! It made me giggle.

   Another main attraction of the park was a tree where an emperor had hung himself. Pleasant setting I guess.

Monday: Got a taxi to Summer Palace (颐和园).

  It was quite a long taxi ride but still only cost £7. Saw some interesting parts of the city from the taxi window.

  The Summer palace was brilliant, my favourite place in Beijing.

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We hired a pedal boat and went on the lake. Then we walked around the edge (which takes a long time, it is massive.) We went up and down lots of steps looking at temples and pavillions, all beautiful and all very oriental. There were lots of traditional chinese bridges and willow trees draped across the water.

   We then took an uncomfortably hot and crowded underground back to the hotel. Definitely worth avoiding subway during rush hour.

Tuesday: It rained and we did very little.

Went for a walk to try and find a station which is on the front of one of my books.

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Saw some bits of the original city wall and some rather naff parks.

Went to ‘The Friendship Shop’ which was in the guide book and which was awful! Worth avoiding. Very tacky and over priced.

Wednesday: Decided to visit an animal market that was in the guidebook.

Got a taxi to Shi Li Dong Tian Bridge (十里洞天桥).

Market was brilliant, amazingly Chinese. As you walked in there were shops selling huge coy carp and other fish. In the actual market, there were little wicker baskets containing crickets, which you could hear chirruping as you walked around.

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There were traditional bird cages with birds, kittens, terrapins, squirrels, mice – just about everything. There were also lots of walnut stalls, some in the green fruit, some polished and some strung onto bracelets. There were tables of carved wood, polished stones, pipes, shoes, cages, plants.

Thursday: Up at 7:30 and got a taxi to the north railway station.

   Catching the train was much less worrying than last time.

   Caught a train to Xi’an. Journey uneventful.

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   I didn’t much like the look of Xi’an as we went in a taxi to the Hilton. It looked much poorer than either Shanghai or Beijing.

The Hilton hotel was in the old part of the city, within the old city wall (which is still standing.) It is not near the terracotta warrior museum but I think it is a good place to stay if you want to see a glimpse of real Xi’an.

   We arrived at the hotel at the same time as a coach full of american tourists. the receptionist was somewhat stressed and complaining (in mandarin). When she showed us to our rooms, I thanked her in mandarin and she was suitably embarrassed and asked if I had understood her comments (which I had.) We got very good service after that….

   Our room overlooked an apartment block. It was shabby but very interesting.

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Friday: Breakfast buffet in hotel. They have an open kitchen so you can watch the chefs at work while you eat, which was rather fun. David had noodles (I think just because he saw them being prepared!)

   Went shopping. Shops much the same as anywhere else in the world. Except in large department stores, you have to take what you want to buy to an assistant who gives you an invoice, which you take to another til to pay, and then return to the first place to collect what you are buying. It was a bit confusing but they were very helpful and friendly.

   Bought some warm clothes (Xi’an was much colder than Beijing) and some sturdy boots for wading through debris.

  We went on the city wall. It cost £5 to go up and at the top you could hire tandems or bikes. It was very wide, as wide as a major road, and fully walled, so it felt completely safe. We hired a tandem.

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It took us an hour and a half to cycle around the whole wall. It was brilliant. Some excellent views of the city and lovely to be able to exercise outside.

Saturday: We got a taxi to see the Terracotta Warriors.

  Walked through a plaza to buy tickets, trying to dodge the very persistent tour guides. They kept telling us that we needed a guide to show us the way and explain things or we would miss interesting things. In the end we gave up and accepted one. Then she would NOT stop talking! It was like walking with a bossy radio and no ‘off’ button. I did not need to be told where to stand to take a photograph, or where to look. I had read the guide book before coming and she was just irritating.

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I ate a moon cake and we walked to the exit, which was through another market. It was rather crappy but did have lots of fox fur and bear skins, which at least was different.

Our taxi had waited. We drove back to the hotel.

The museum is in a very different part of Xi’an. There were mountains in the distance, trees, fountains, lots of orchards and fruit sellers. It was pretty, but I think I preferred our rather scruffy, real life area.

Sunday: Breakfast. I tend to eat boring english stuff (bacon and eggs.) David tends to eat everything (bacon, eggs, noodles, fish, bread, pastries…)

We got a taxi to a church we found on the internet. The first taxi refused to take us there (said the road was too narrow and drove off.) There was an old lady at the gate. She welcomed us and bowed. The church building was quite big but it wasn’t very full. It was all in chinese. The hymns were on a big screen, which made it easier to join in (David sang the ‘Amen’ at the end of each one!) The sermon (exactly one hour) was quite difficult for me to understand, I could only really understand the main gist of what she was saying. It was very formal. The congregation was mainly women, most were taking notes. There were several people coming and going during the service. At the end, a girl came and hugged me, clearly excited at having visitors. It was rather touching. We looked at their bookshop but they only had about six. I bought a jade cross for my mum.

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Lots of round doorways and pretty roofs. There was a street market with some interesting textiles (bought a cushion cover for my collection.) There was street food and a lot of walnuts.

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Monday: Breakfast. David didn’t hold back again. Chatted to a couple from Hong Kong who are stranded due to a big typhoon.

We got a taxi to Big Goose Pagoda.
There was a fountain show but we had missed it.
There was a lady in traditional costume being photographed. She asked if David would be in the photo with her. Then she couldn’t stop laughing, neither could the photographer or her husband, who was watching. David seems very tall and very blond here. It was one of those random happy moments that seem to happen frequently here.

We walked around the garden, which had excellent statues.

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The pagoda was basically just a lot of stairs. I was unclear why it was necessary to go up them. Is a boy thing (like church towers in Norfolk. I have never understood the need to go up those either.)

We spotted another Starwood hotel (Westin) so went inside for lunch. It was clean and peaceful and safe. I love seeing China, but it is lovely to have breaks from all the new culture every so often.

Paid to go into a park. It was not very nice. It felt fake and slightly broken and smelled of sewage. It had been advertised as the Xi’an equivalent of the Summer Palace. It wasn’t.

Tuesday: Caught a flight back to Shaghai. Stayed at Royal Meridian again.

Wednesday: Caught flight back to England. An amazing holiday.

Thank you for reading this extract from my holiday diary.

If you enjoyed this, you will love my new book: The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary.
I have always written a diary on holiday, so last Christmas, I decided to find all my old diaries and blogs, and make a book for my children. However, several other people also asked for a copy, so I have written a public version – it’s available on Amazon and has been described as “The Durrells meet Bill Bryson”!

Why not buy a copy today? I think it will make you laugh.

The US link is here:

https://www.amazon.com/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015525&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The India link is here:

https://www.amazon.in/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015429&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The UK link is here:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1549014970&sr=8-2&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

 

A Cautionary Tale


A Cautionary Tale

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     Mable was a black labrador and when the Bond family first took her home, she entered it like a small tornado. Everything was exciting! She was just one big wiggle with a tail attached. Whenever she saw someone she would fling herself onto her back, exposing her round pink tummy for tickles. Sometimes she even produced small puddles in excitement. She was the happiest puppy you could hope to own.

However, not everyone was delighted by her arrival. Suki was a mottled brown cat who was aged about four years old and eminently logical. She had inherited her sleek superiority from her Siamese mother and her deft ability as a mouser from her wild Tom father. She watched Mable from the safety of the dresser and puffed her tail in a show of anger. She could really see no use at all for this giddy addition to the family and considered moving out.

Mable grew. She was not a dog who showed great intelligence but no one could doubt her affection. When she was shouted at for producing puddles on the kitchen floor, she was honestly distraught at having caused offence, though completely mystified as to what she had done wrong. She greeted everyone with great enthusiasm, often at face height and pulled enthusiastically when taken out on the lead.

Gradually, she learned manners, helped by kind words and edible treats. She learned to walk calmly next to her owners. She learned to never touch food that was not in her bowl. She learned to sit next to the door when she needed to toilet.

She also learned how to treat Suki, helped by some sharp scratches to her nose. She learned that cats do not like to be bounced. She learned that cats do not like you to investigate their food bowl. She learned that cats do not like to be chased.

One cold winter’s night, the relationship between cat and dog changed. The boiler had shut down for the night and the kitchen had a steady draught blowing through the cat flap. Suki looked down from her bed on the cold boiler. Mable was asleep in her basket under the table, curled tightly on her fleece. She looked warm. She also looked still and calm.

Suki stealthily left her vantage point and approached the sleeping dog. All remained still and she tentatively stepped into the basket. It was warm. She placed a paw on the dog. Nothing happened. She stepped forwards until her weight was fully on the dog. Still Mable did not wake. Suki slowly lay down. She could feel the dog breathing in slow even breaths and the fur was thick and warm under the cat’s body. She slept.

At some point, Mable woke. She found herself under an unexpected weight whose smell she recognised as Suki’s. She knew that close interaction usually resulted in pain and therefore she lay very still, hoping that the cat would leave of her own volition. Thus it was that when Suki herself woke, the dog was still calmly immobile beneath her.

This having proven to be a most satisfactory arrangement, the cat decided to regularly share the dog’s bed. It was warm and comfortable and cat’s crave little else in life. Mable herself grew accustomed to the arrangement and though always slightly nervous when the cat arrived, she found that keeping very still resulted in a pain free experience.

Thus it was that Mable and Suki became friends. They were happy in each other’s company, both understanding the rules of the relationship. Sometimes Suki would even drag a captured mouse or baby rabbit into the dog’s bowl and if the Bond family failed to notice, Mable could enjoy an unexpected treat.

Time passed, seeping through the seasons and bringing subtle changes. Mable lost her bounce and became happily sedate. She remained loving and gentle but wagged her tail rather than spun in circles. She loved to collect presents and would search the kitchen for tea towels and abandoned socks to bring to the family. At night, when the kitchen was empty, she would collect all the discarded possessions and place them in her basket to mark her ownership. Her gentle mouth never caused damage and the family knew where to look if they were missing a sock or a glove.

She continued to be an affectionate dog and never once growled or snapped, even if inadvertently stepped on by a boisterous child. She could oft be found, leaning her heavy weight against her owner’s legs, patiently waiting for her silky head to be stroked.

One day, the Bond family noticed their pets were old. Mable’s muzzle had become grey and she rose stiffly each morning, sometimes not wanting to rise at all to greet visitors. She slept more and more and as her back legs stiffened it became uncomfortable for her to walk very far.

The two constants in her life were food and Suki. Twice a day, glimmers of the puppy would reappear as her bowl was filled with kibble and she would attempt a stiff legged dance of excitement.

Suki now also spent most of her time asleep in the dog’s basket. The two animals were always together, either asleep or wandering slowly around the garden. Suki was obviously an elderly cat. She could no longer jump onto furniture and found even going through the cat flap to require great effort. Her lean form had become austerely thin and her bones formed sharp angles under her sagging fur. Her teeth were yellowed and sore and Mrs Bond started to buy tins of food that were easier to eat than the crunchy biscuits she had formally enjoyed.

One day, the animals were both taken to be checked by the vet. Mable could no longer jump into the boot of the car and so she wobbled unstably in the footwell while Mrs Bond drove her and a vocally cross Suki into town.

When they arrived, the vet methodically examined them. He felt their backs and under sides, listened to their hearts and looked in their mouths. When he tried to check Mable’s back legs, a jolt of pain shot through her. In sudden anger she snarled and snapped her brown teeth.

The vet jumped back alarmed and Mrs Bond rushed to hold Mable’s head. She had never seen her dog be anything other than submissively affectionate and she hastily apologised to the vet. He reassured her and said that animal’s often change in character as they become old.

He stated that Mable seemed in good health and was aging naturally for a dog of her years. He thought Suki would not survive much longer but as she appeared pain free, he suggested that Mrs Bond should return home with both pets and let nature take it’s course.

It was not many days later, that the Bond family arrived in the kitchen to find only one pet. Mable was asleep in her basket but Suki was missing. They gave the garden a cursory search before starting out for work but there was no sign of the cat.

That evening, the whole family looked for her. They hunted in all the nearby streets and under bushes and in ditches. They found nothing but litter and dead leaves. Mrs Bond suggested that perhaps the cat had known she was about to die and so had wandered off to die in solitude, as she had read that wild cats some times behave like that. It was with great sadness that the family returned home.

Mable changed when Suki disppeared. She showed no enthusiasm for food and had to be prised from her bed to toilet in the garden. Both the dog and her bed began to smell unpleasant but Mrs Bond felt that washing either would be unfair so instead she bought air fresheners and kept a small window ajar.

Within a week, life seeped away from Mable. One cold February evening, Mr Bond arrived in the kitchen to find her body lying on the floor, her mouth slightly open and her eyes unseeing.

It was with heavy hearts that they hoisted her immobile form into the garage and wrapped it in an old blanket. Their eyes stung with tears and they spoke little as each person remembered her enthusiasm as a young dog and her constancy as a beloved friend.

When the family had departed for work, Mrs Bond went to tackle the dog’s bed. She sighed as she lifted the odorous blanket from the basket. As she stuffed it into the black dustbin bag, something fell to the floor. She bent to retrieve it, then stopped.

There, on the cold tiles, shrivelled and slightly flattened, was a tail. A cat’s tail. A mottled brown cat’s tail. Feeling slightly sick, Mrs Bond scooped it into the waiting bag and went to sit down.

Had the dog searched for her missing friend and discovered a sordid memento in some hidden corner of the garden? Or had her aging personality change garnered a more vicious explanation?

Was this evidence of unwavering devotion?

Or was it an altogether more cautionary tail?

A Trip to Zambia


Zambia
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A Trip to Zambia with Tearfund

by Anne E Thompson

October, 2007, I sat on an aeroplane and flew to Lusaka, Zambia. I was travelling with David and other members from the board of Tearfund. I was the ‘tourist’, sneaking along for the ride and to try and catch some of the vision that motivated these people.

It was a journey that had begun many years before. As a child, my parents always supported a charity called Tearfund. I knew very little about it, mainly that Cliff Richard, who my mum was rather keen on, had made a film where he had held lots of little black babies. I also remember collecting sixpences for ambulances in Bangladesh after some floods. I had no idea where these places were and was completely uninvolved with the issues that I occasionally heard about.

Then, when 23, I married David. David is an accountant. Really, I should have married a farmer because I would be a phenominal farmer’s wife but I fell in love with an accountant and that was that. (I sometimes suggest at parties that he lies and introduces himself as an actor, but there is no escaping the fact that he is an accountant and a rather good one. )This is a relevant fact because the way an accountant deals with life, looking for risk, good with the unemotional aspects of life and always noticing prices, means that David’s reaction to Zambia was somewhat different to mine.

David had, some years earlier been invited to join the board of Tearfund as Treasurer. This mainly involved a lot of meetings and numbers but also meant that he made the occasional trip to places that Tearfund works as he needed to be properly aware of some of the issues which he was making decisions about. I always stayed at home, happy to be looking after the house and children while he went off doing ‘great things’. I enjoyed the stories of him smothering himself in insect repellent in Nepal, only to then be presented with a garland of flowers around his neck. He then met village dignities whilst trying to not notice all the insects that slowly crawled out of his necklace. He also once had to ‘christen’ a line of toilets that Tearfund had funded! (It should be noted, at the time of writing this, that David’s ten year stint on the board of Tearfund has finished. Although we both continue to actively support Tearfund he is now also on the board of a different charity.)

Now, in 2007, I had decided to join him. We paid our own costs but used the expertise of Tearfund’s ‘Transform Trips’ team for our trip. The main aim of the trip was for David and members of the executive team to visit Zambia to live amongst HIV positive families in order to better understand the issues being faced. It also enabled David to see if the money they sent was actually reaching the places where it was needed. This is something that Tearfund takes very seriously. It receives several million pounds a year and is part of the DEC. However, David talks about regularly going to the room where envelopes of donations are opened and watching as individual gifts from pensioners and children are received. He said it is important to never forget the sacrifice of some of those gifts when deciding where to spend several thousands of pounds in a developing country.

Before we left England, we were invited to Tearfund to meet the other team members and to receive some advice. We were told about the dangers in Zambia, which is a country ravaged by HIV and AIDS. We were told that catching AIDS was unlikely if we were sensible and were assured that should there be an accident, we would be removed from Zambia and taken to a hospital in a safer country before receiving any blood. We were told to avoid dangerous situations, such as travelling in vehicles other than those approved by Tearfund and taking care with toilets. Many are pits and these have been known to collapse. Super.

 

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We visited some of the people they were helping. First we went to a white stone house that looked a lot like my garden shed. Inside, it was very dark and very hot but it was clean and did not smell horrid. It had a television, which felt rather incongruous amidst so much poverty. A woman lived here with her grandchildren. Four of her seven children had died of aids and their orphaned children now lived with her, despite her being HIV positive. One of the children was also HIV positive, the others had not been tested.

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The next home we visited was run by teenaged orphans. Their parents had died and they were living together in the family home. The church ladies checked regularly that they were eating properly, attending school, keeping clean. This is so much better for the children than being split up and sent away.

We heard that there are many many orphans in Zambia due to AIDS. My initial reaction was the same as one American charity we heard about. They sent lots of money and built a beautiful orphanage, fully equipped and staffed. However, Zambian people do not use orphanages and the costly building remained empty. I realised that my own reaction to Africa was not dissimilar to those white missionaries in ancient times who taught everyone to speak english and wear hats. To really help, you have to understand the culture and provide aid that is appropriate, not necessarily what is nice to give.

In Zambia, when parents die, their children are usually sent to a relative. Then, when this relative also dies, they are sent to a more remote relative. Often people are left to look after many children, some of whom are quite distantly related, and the level of care is erratic. No one who cares about the child knows where they are. In the meantime, the family home is sold (I assume the money is taken by the first carers.) As the child is passed from relative to relative, they become increasingly isolated. Then, when they are old enough to care for themselves, they have nothing. Their home has been sold and they have no entitlement. However, if when they are first orphaned, they can stay in their family home, then that possession is always theirs. When they leave school, they have a home, often with a garden where they can grow food. This is one of Tearfund’s initiatives. They hope to encourage local churches to enable orphans to remain in the family home, regularly helped and advised by church members.

 

Many children had toys they had made themselves from old tyres or pieces of twisted metal. Many of the houses had a water hole in the garden. A bucket on a rope was used to haul the water up to ground height. It was used for washing and cooking and had to be boiled before it could be drunk.

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There was litter everywhere. Everyone seemed to keep their own space clean and tidy but along the roadsides were empty cans, pieces of paper and cloth, all just discarded.

 

David and I were then driven to the pastor’s house, as we are staying in his village. The pastor’s house was another mud hut. I think that each ‘village’ is actually made up of family groups. When a child is too big to sleep in their parent’s hut, they are given a hut of their own. There are also huts for cooking and for washing and for the toilet pit. The space between the huts is a living space and is kept free of litter. The family and their animals all occupy this same space. We could not see any other ‘villages’ from the pastor’s group of huts. In the pastor’s hut was an area for sleeping and another with a wooden table and chairs.

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We were given chairs and cups of tuwantu. This looks like thin white emulsion paint with bits floating in it. It is actually made from a plant root and we were offered brown sugar to add to it. It tasted like watery yogurt. Luke warm watery yogurt. Drinking it required some effort.

 

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They then served the food on dishes and the men (and me, as a guest) went into the house. We washed our hands in a chipped metal bowl of water, then rinsed them from water in a jug (which we took turns to pour for each other.) We then used our nice safe hand santisers which we had carried from England. Later, someone asked me if I had offered the hand sanitiser to our hosts. I hadn’t and had actually used it surreptitiously, fearing I would offend them. How silly! It would have been much better to use it openly and offer it to everyone.

 

There was already a fire burning and the women had heated water so we could wash. As I swept, I saw school children file past in their navy blue uniforms. They walked one behind the other, carrying their books and bottles of white tuwantu for their lunch.

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Schools here were free but children had to wear the uniform to attend. If a family was too poor to afford several uniforms, the children would share, with one sibling attending school in the morning and then switching at lunch time with their brother or sister who would change into the same clothes.I can just imagine the comments if I suggested my children might like to share clothes……

The animals wandered around freely. The turkeys and hens all roosted in the trees at night and they seemed quite content to share the ground with dogs, cats, kittens, pigs, goats and cows during the day. They were part of life here and wandered in and out of the huts. It gave an added incentive to keeping our ‘bedroom’ door shut!

I found the people to be quiet and dignified. They greeted us with smiles and handshakes and a half curtsey. The women were beautiful with dark skin and clean bright clothes. I still do not not know how they managed to wear clothes that looked clean and ironed when washing involved a bowl of water heated over a fire. The children were delightful. They smiled with wide mouths and delighted eyes and loved to see themselves in photographs. The elderly and the sick moved slowly and carefully. They listened and nodded but said little. Around them, life seemed harmonious.

It was hard to accept the impact of AIDS here. Both our hosts were HIV positive. Most people who we saw were younger than us. It was odd to be the eldest people we saw in a country when we were only in our forties. I knew that life expectancy in Zambia was 35, it was altogether different to actually experience that.

I saw some cows being milked (this is the first job that I saw a man do – I was wondering what they did!) They tied together the cow’s back legs first, then milked it into a plastic bucket.

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We were then called into the house for breakfast. They poured very milky tea out of a teapot (it looked like milk, there was hardly any tea in it at all.) We had it with bread and scones. The scones were sweet and tasty. We ate with Chris, our driver. I didn’t see the other people eat anything at all, though some were drinking tuwantu (I was very relieved not to be offered any.)

After breakfast, I washed up. This involved several bowls of water. One had detergent in for washing, then two others were for rinsing. It was all done on the floor with animals walking around. I had to keep pushing the pig away because he wanted to drink the dirty water.

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The government owned this school. They had a lot of policies. It was regularly inspected but they were not given any feedback. I decided that my own feedback was probably also inappropriate to share.

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After grade 7, the children could apply to another school. It was a long way away and they would have to walk, cycle or hitch a ride. Not all the children would go there. Many would fail due to financial problems or their parents would choose to keep them at home. If the parents had AIDS (which was common) then they would need the children to help at home. Before we left the school, the head teacher took our group leader aside and gave her a list of improvements that he would like Tearfund to pay for. When I asked her about it, she said she did not consider that they were areas that Tearfund would help. I found this to be very reassuring. When I give to a charity, I want it to be wise with how it uses the money. It would be very easy to give to whoever asks for help, but actually, this is not always the best use for the money.

 

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Our lunch was tuwantu. I just could not manage to swallow any, which was very embarrassing. It made me gag. There was nowhere to dispose of it and a nearby chicken showed no interest at all when I offered it. I tried pouring some on the ground but it left a white puddle which our hosts would have noticed. I then got the giggles (feel I had failed being an aid worker several times already.) In the end, had to just leave the unfinished drink coagulating on the table.

 

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We went to see the pastor’s garden. This was more like an allotment or small field. It was next to the river so he could easily water the plants. He grew lots of vegetables and also herbs such as aloe vera, for their medicinal qualities. The garden had to be guarded, usually by a boy, to keep cows from wandering over it.

We ate very well while in the village. It interested me at how well the people here ate. We often heard that people in these places exist on less than a dollar a day but that seemed a fairly meaningless statement. There was nothing there to spend a dollar on! People grew their own food and raised their own cattle and made their own houses and furniture. If nothing went wrong, it was not a bad life style. It was different to life in England but I am not sure that it was worse. Yes, there were hard things, but there were lots of excellent things too. The thing that threw everything off kilter was any kind of disaster. If people were ill (and many were due to AIDS) or if there was a change in climate, then they had no back up plan. There were no safety nets.

 

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We ate the fish for supper. They were like sardines, small and fried whole. They were crunchy but not unpleasant. They were served with the mapawpwee, rape and tomatoes. I would have liked to eat outside with the women but I think that would have been odd, so ate at the table with the men again. It felt very strange being seen as a ‘special’ guest and I had to keep asking if I could do things if I wanted to spend time with the women.

 

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Went to church. Women sang (brilliant!) It was nice to see lots of people who we recognised from our visits. I felt a real bond with the women. Our interaction had mainly been them trying to teach me tonga and then laughing, but I realised that our day to day focus was very similar (childcare and meals) even if the mode was different. Lindsey did a talk, which was translated and then the school children sang (they looked very fed up!) We were presented with a basket of groundnuts. Then we stood outside and everyone filed past and shook our hand. When they shake hands, the left hand holds your elbow, then they squeeze your hand, then link thumbs, then squeeze hand. If we wanted to show respect to an older person we also did a dipped curtsey.

One man said to me, “When you go back to England, you may forget us. But never forget that we are part of the same church. Tell people at home, God has one church. The part in Zambia is part of you. We need your help.”

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We had chicken and rice for lunch. I got to hold a baby. I told Rosebunda that when I was small, I had always wanted a black baby. She laughed and said she had always wanted a white one! We held our arms together and compared skin colour. She was so dark, I felt pasty beside her.

 

The ‘work’ bit of the trip was finished and we all wanted to rush off to Livingstone for some sight seeing. But nothing happens quickly in Africa. We went to say goodbye to the bishop. It took ages. More photos. Went to another church. Met more people (who are all beginning to blur into one by this stage. Too much new stimuli.) There were lots of rag rugs on the floor and the stained glass windows all depicted Bible scenes but were set in Africa. It seemed odd seeing a black Jesus but I guess is no more weird than the Italian looking one that tends to be in English churches!

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We had to introduce ourselves again. When I introduce myself they always laughed. This was because I was very old and only had three children.

 

We went to the home of a young single mother. Her previous baby had died of AIDS because no one had told her to boil her milk before feeding the baby. Would such a tiny detail have meant the baby would survive and not catch AIDS? I still don’t know if that is true. However, her second baby was healthy and was not HIV positive, so maybe it is true. The girl’s mother attended church and they had given her lots of advice which she then passed on to her daughter. The house was hot and smelt of urine. It had lots of flies. She grew vegetables in her garden and sold the surplus on a table at the end of her garden.

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We then visited a yong girl who was HIV positive. She looked about seventeen. Her house was tiny but it had a television, a DVD player, a video player and a HiFi. I found that very strange but maybe not so different to the things my teenagers would strive to own. I like to think they would buy food and clothes and education but maybe they would prefer electrical products too.

 

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We saw baboons fighting next to the road. We couldn’t find the guesthouse so phoned and they sent a car for us to follow.

 

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Ate pizza for tea. Normal food was a novelty.

 

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Thank you for reading this extract. You can read more of my diary in my new book:

 The Sarcastic Mother’s Holiday Diary.

I have always written a diary on holiday, so last Christmas, I decided to find all my old diaries and blogs, and make a book for my children. However, several other people also asked for a copy, so I have written a public version – it’s available on Amazon and has been described as “The Durrells meet Bill Bryson”!

Why not buy a copy today? I think it will make you laugh.

The US link is here:

https://www.amazon.com/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015525&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The India link is here:

https://www.amazon.in/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1549015429&sr=8-1&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

The UK link is here:

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sarcastic-Mothers-Holiday-Diary-ebook/dp/B07N95281F/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1549014970&sr=8-2&keywords=the+sarcastic+mothers+holiday+diary

 

In the Care Home


In the Care Home

They visit me often
These people,
With their stiletto eyes
And brittle bright voices
That speak too fast.
I sit here
Under the waterfall of their words
And I wonder, “What’s for tea?”

They visit and I sit
In my chair,
Watch their fidgeting hands
See shadows dull their eyes
While their mouths smile,
Kiss my cheek.
Handing me photographs to look at.
I ask, “When will it be tea?”

I look at their pictures,
Names, places,
That float just out of reach
And because they’re hoping,
I nod and smile.
Who are they?
Groping to understand why they’ve come.
And I wonder, “What’s for tea?”

anneethompson.com

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   It is hard to imagine what suffering from senile dementia must be like. However, after my brain surgery, it took a little while for my brain to start functioning normally and I am guessing it might be similar to having dementia. Whilst I could read people’s moods, sometimes they spoke too quickly for me to keep up with what they were saying. My family kindly didn’t inform me until later how often I repeated conversations, but I could read in their expressions that I was doing something wrong. There were things that I knew but they were out of reach, I couldn’t bring them to mind. Watching television involved too much light and sound, too much stimulus.

   Everything was difficult because nothing was automatic. Even having a shower was a challenge because I would be drying and then realise that I had forgotten I had shampooed my hair and had never rinsed it off. To not rely on one’s brain was very disorientating. The only thing that was easy was eating! To have a simple, concrete event where I knew exactly what to do, felt some control and independence, was very important.

See also : https://anneethompson.com/poems/general-poems/faces/

Turkey


Bizet, Turkey

Excerpts from a family diary

Monday: Taxi arrived 7:15. Boys ready (that’s a first!) Taxi driver drove two sides of triangle at end of lane. Family remained silent. Lots of eye-contact.

   Flights okay (slight dispute at check-in over weight allowance.)

   Collected hire car – pretty white mercedes with silly foot brake. Many many miles on clock.

   Drove to villa.Booked through Meon Villas. Nice.

   Dispute over room allocation so they drew lots and Mark won the double room.

   Turkey has bad drains, so lots of signs up explaining you cannot flush toilet paper and have to deposit it in a bin. Horrible.

   Nice meal at a beach side restaurant, The Lemon Tree.

Tuesday: Walked along beach path. Lots of cafes, big cushions on beach, little shops selling beachy stuff. Can hear ‘call to prayer’ from mosque next to beach. Is a nice sound.

   Swam in pool. Played Catan. Boys singing Vegetales songs (thought they had outgrown them ten years ago. Obviously not.)

   Met friends and had dinner at The Lemon Tree again. Three course set meal 38TL. They gave us free cocktails at the end. I had lovely apple pie for pudding, with surgical spirit flavoured ice cream, which was somewhat odd.

Wednesday: Lazed around. Kids introduced me to ‘Flow’ on my iphone. Tried to read by pool but boys much too loud and splashy so retreated to balcony. Pleasant.

   Went to Bodrun with David. We went on the local bus, such fun! It stopped wherever people wanted to get off, the price was displayed and people just threw money into a little basket next to the driver. Bodrun was nice. Pretty harbour. Men outside mosque washing feet, call to prayer, lots of ethnic shops, street sellers, cafes.

   We had a turkish coffee. Not completely disgusting – an experience! Not sure what one is meant to do with the inch of sludge at the bottom. Went back to villa.

   Don’t think boys had moved since we left. David decided to allocate jobs (so I have a break.) Mark refills the water bottles from the giant one we buy at the supermarket. Becky sorts the dishwasher. Not sure what James does. David empties the bins (containing used toilet paper.) Boys now call him “Shit Man”. David rather disgruntled and can be found muttering “international business executive” under his breath.

   Nice dinner in restaurant over looking the sea. Perfect warm breeze, palm trees, comfy seats. Food was okay. Most of it arrived actually on fire, which seems to be a turkish custom. Also discovered that “tirimasu” means ‘chocolate synthetic sludge’ in turkish. Worth avoiding.

Thursday: Went to supermarket again. Buying milk a challenge. A picture of a cow on the bottle does not necessarily mean cow’s milk. Have tasted some very sour liquids this week.

   Drove to Yalikavak to meet friends. Wandered around a brilliant market. So much colour. James bought his girlfriend turkish delight. I bought a cushion cover (“You Turkey, I Turkey, I give you a very good price. I not make up english price. You know what I say?” Hmmm, why do I NOT think all turkish men want to be my best friend?)

   Had dinner next to the sea. Very pretty, lots of candle light and waves splashing next to us. After dinner entertainment very turkish! A strong man picked up people, then another man gave volunteers electric shocks! The boys joined in with turkish line dancing. It was all good fun but not necessarily what you ever need to see a second time. (It wouldn’t have taken very long for them to learn the dances I feel.) Walked along the quay and looked at all the huge yachts.

   Back to villa about 1am. Still not sure what James’ job is.

Friday: Extremely lazy day, did nothing. James washed up a pizza tin – maybe THAT is his job. Mark moans every time someone has a drink from the water he has refilled. Not sure he fully understands his role. Becky has instigated a lot of rules around the dishwasher loading, might try some of them when we get home.

   Dinner at Lemon Tree. We were tired so didn’t accept their after dinner drinks this time. Worried this might be considered insulting.

   Watched Jack Reacher while Becky played Flow. Mark groaned every time she missed an obvious connection (so groaned constantly), James texted girlfriend.

Saturday: Went out for breakfast. Tried sitting on big colourful cushions under palm trees on beach. Way too many ants. David and I shared a turkish breakfast – cheeses, fruit, dried fruit, breads, honey, yogurt, olives. Very nice. James had ‘full english’ which was not very english, though did contain pork (but not bacon) and eggs. Becky had pancake and hot chocolate. Good choice.

   Wandered around the shops. James bought a wooden trinket box. I bought another cushion cover. Everyone very friendly.

   Went back to Bodrun on bus and met friends. Wandered around the shops (too many, I hate shopping) then had dinner. Some restaurants have very aggressive salesmen outside who try to ‘entice’/force you inside to eat. It is a shame, because on the whole, this is the most friendly country I have ever visited. Walked to an ice cream parlour. Great ice cream!

   Bus back to Bizet.

Sunday: Went to a bigger supermarket (a carrefour.) Becky and I chose a slice of cake at the deli counter – it looked fabulous, tasted synthetic.

   David bought snorkels for the boys. Children’s ones. Think they were cheap. Pink and orange. They were not delighted.

   Did nothing. I read on balcony, family swam in pool. I was annoyed because someone’s bonfire was blowing smoke at me. Then looked up and realised there was a HUGE forest fire on the other side of the hill, you could see the glow along the horizon. A helicopter and water plane were flying over and dropping water. The sky was black with smoke and the pool was full of ash. Rather exciting!

   Went to dinner. Mine was horrid.

Monday: Up early (8:30!) and met friends in Yalikavak.

   Hired a boat. Not very expensive for nine of us and absolutely brilliant! Spent the day swimming in coves, diving off the boat, sunbathing. Water really deep, so jumping and diving very safe. Sea quite choppy in places so the spray came right over the front. Lots of squealing and holding on tight!

   The boat people catered for us. We had salad and steaks for lunch, a fresh fruit snack, then turkish tea and biscuits.

   David swam with his phone (his work one) to take photos (I sooo hoped he would drop it! Nearly drowned due to laughing so much!) A really happy day. There was even a little ‘ice cream boat’ that came round the coves. James swam across to check prices, then we all had one.

   Went back to town very salty with wild hair – David called it: “happy hair”.

Tuesday: Went for a drive. Recognised one of the bays that we visited yesterday in the boat.

   Found an old church. It’s the first church I have seen in Turkey. When you think about how much this country was part of the early church, it’s kind of sad that there are so few churches here today. It was locked up and disused.

   Went to ice cream parlour in Bizet. They had sold out of nearly everything and then got the bill wrong.

   Swam. Boys did ‘charades’ of everyone in the family. Not kind ones. Unfortunately I could guess who everyone was….

   They played Catan. I moved some of the pieces when no one was looking. Person who loses will be outraged but I cannot bring myself to care. They played for another two hours in the evening.

   Had dinner at The Lemon Tree. James bit his own finger. Embarrassing.

Wednesday: Met friends by beach and had breakfast. Very relaxed.

   I ordered a banana crepe. When it eventually arrived, it had no banana inside, just a long slice of melon. The waiter (who clearly didn’t believe me) took it back to the kitchen. He returned to inform me that the chef said they had no bananas, but he could cut any fruit I wanted into a banana shape! I had a very nice plain crepe with ice cream and chocolate sauce.

   Swam in pool then had a drive around area.

   Stopped on way back at a kebab restaurant. They didn’t speak any english (all the restaurants near the sea speak excellent english.) The waiters arrived with many plates of salads and meat kebabs. We had no idea what was going on! All delicious.

   Boys went to watch an Arsenal game in a bar on beach. I hoped they wouldn’t get attacked.

Thursday: Bought turkish delight to take home as gifts. Opened one box – there is much less turkish delight than I was expecting! Pretty boxes though…

   Walked past The Lemon Tree and the owner invited us for coffee. Nice coffee! Had a nice chat. In ‘real life’ he is an engineer. He’s owned the restaurant for six years.

   I went back to villa and changed into a long skirt and headscarf, then went with Becky to look at the mosque. It felt kind of scary, I was worried we would do something wrong by mistake and be shouted at, though there was an english sign on the door explaining that visits were allowed so long as it wasn’t a prayer time. Inside, it was just a room. I had been expecting something else, something more ornate or ‘foreign’. It was just a room with a carpet on the floor, an indentation in one wall which marks the direction of mecca and a section which is divided by a large white cotton curtain. It looked like a sheet. I assume that the women pray behind it so they are separate from the men. Outside there was a place for people to wash their feet. (We have seen men washing their feet when the call for prayer is sounded.) It was interesting, very plain, certainly did not feel either ‘holy’ or ‘evil’, it was just a room.

   Swam in sea. Cold. Ate at Lemon Tree.

Friday: Drove two and a half hours to Ephesus. Interesting scenery.

   Ephesus (Effes) was brilliant. Smaller and less hot than Pompei. It didn’t have the same ‘wow’ factor but hugely interesting to actually see places you can read about in the Bible. Makes Acts and Ephesians come alive in a whole new way.

   David shouted at for climbing on rubble (dangerous). I was shouted at for posing at library (spoilt grumpy man’s photo. Apparently.)

   Dinner at Lemon Tree. Becky noticed James had cream in his hair. And on his nose. And his chin. He explained that he had blown on a rosette of cream and it had exploded. Why? Why would you do that?

Saturday: Got up late then walked to the beach for coffee. Got directions to a bakers. Everyone here is so friendly and helpful.

   Returned to villa to find a minor crisis. Boy had no clean underwear and had developed inability to use washing machine. Helped him. He managed washing line bit. There is a toothbrush living on the dining table. Why would that be a good place?

Sunday: Home.

Sorrento, Italy


Sorrento

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Excerpts from a family diary 2012

      Monday: Boys’ alarm failed. They woke at 4:45 in a panic (I’m not sure they had packed.)

        Left home 5am, one hour delay at Gatwick, then flew to Naples. Mike decided to check out the G-forces on plane by juggling with three tennis balls during take-off. Then checked out High Life magazine for drugs.
David sorted hire car while we collected cases.

      Drove to Sorrento. Managed to miss a ‘no entry’ sign and went the wrong way down a one-way street. Within seconds two policemen (who had been hiding?) hurried over and fined us 39€.

         Staying at Hotel Bristol, another Citalia hotel. All rooms have sea view and balcony.

P1040849         Had sandwiches at pool side bar. James mentioned that everything in his suitcase needs washing. Super.

        Evening meal lovely, though slightly rushed as the next course arrived the second we finished eating the last one! Friendly service. Delicious ice cream.

          Walked into town. Lots of little shops selling leather goods and lemon products.

           Tuesday: Breakfast really nice. Lots of fresh fruit, breads plus cooked stuff.
David tried to plan activities. Not sure we were helpful.
Views so beautiful, want to absorb them.
Went to pool on roof. Nice but very over looked. Issued one towel per day by pool attendant/nazi. Get told off if we leave pool via side rather than steps. Not allowed to take inflatables into pool. Not allowed to reserve loungers (which is mainly good, deters people from leaving a towel at dawn to reserve best chairs. But does mean you have to guard your towel when swimming or predatory pool man reclaims them!) Not allowed to do shoulder stands. Not allowed to jump in. Not sure my boys and the pool attendant are going to be friends…….

          Walked into town and bought calzones and stuff for lunch. Saved about 75€ on hotel price. Ate on balcony.
Read, snoozed, swam.
David started campaign to have inflatables allowed in pool. Am hoping it doesn’t last all week.
Boys seem to swim mainly under water – unsettling when they loom below me as I’m struggling to reach the side.

          Another nice dinner.
Mike admitted he ‘may’ have been seen naked whilst changing on his balcony. Why was he changing there? Luckily person doesn’t sound old enough to have heart attack.

          Played Catan in the lounge.
It’s a really nice lounge, lots of sofas and a piano for James to play.
Fernando won. Of course. Actually, we all nearly won at some point. It was an extremely long game.

          Wednesday: I got up early and went for a walk. Left David to wake the family. Returned to find David engrossed in a book. I woke family.

           Swam, read, swam. Lunch. Swam, read, swam.

           Dinner, then played cards in the bar. Musicians playing jazz.

            Thursday: 7am breakfast then David and I drove to Pompei.
(We went years ago when the children were small and unhappy in the heat and I promised myself that one day I would come back without them!) Everyone else had a late breakfast and lazed.
Pompei still interesting, still dusty, still incredibly hot.

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              Went to huge supermarket on way back to Sorrento. My feet hurt, next time will wear proper shoes, not sandals.
Finished reading The Book Thief. Best book ever.

               Friday: Up early and went to exercise room.
It’s very hot in there, was nice to swim afterwards.
Went to breakfast. Everyone asked me why my face was so red.
Checked evening meal menu. Planned day (doing nothing.) Swam.

                Played catan on the roof lounge.

P1040867           There are comfy chairs and big umbrellas, but it was still too hot to be completely fun.

            Swam.
Wrote postcards to my chinese friends. Had to use dictionary for mandarin words for volcano, eruption, historical site. Bit nervous I may have written rubbish or something rude.

             Nice dinner then walked into town. Bought gifts, which was easy as there are so many shops selling soaps and trinkets. Bit cooler tonight, might rain.
Saw three german shepherd dogs, made me miss Kia.

              Saturday: Gym at 7:30 with David. Painful. Breakfast.
Becky ate slowly while Fernando sang “We’re not getting any younger”.
James dipped his sausages in the nutella. Then his elbow. Separate tables are tempting.

             Lazed, read, swam.
Males played cards (extremely noisily) in smoking room.

              Walked into town and collected pizzas. Ate on our balcony.
Becky put in charge of rubbish disposal. Was banned from throwing it onto neighbour’s balcony or flinging it off roof. Have horrid feeling I am going to find abandoned pizza boxes in unsuitable place.
Mike went in search of watch (left in smoking room.) Pizza boxes currently in corridor. Hmmm.

               Lazed, read, swam.
Family joined with Irish family to play games in pool. They used James’ rolled up tee shirt as a ball (well, it’s not an inflatable.) Mike cut his toe on pool vent, watch still lost.
James said ants had found some food he was saving. Ah. Pizza boxes still in corridor.

               Another nice dinner. Watched olympics – Bolt won relay.

               Sunday: Gym and swam.
Breakfast. I love the breakfasts here.
Swam, read, lazed.
Walked into town with David. Had a coffee. Was nasty. Drank it in a little square surrounded by typical Italian houses listening to olympics on a television in a bar.
Bought lunch. Had an espresso. Was perfect.
Lunch on balcony. Fernando had done a workout with Mike in gym. Seemed to have trouble lifting his arms.

                Monday: Left hotel, drove to Puglia.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

            Name of some (one) persons changed to protect identity. (From what???)

“I don’t have to go to church to be a Christian.”


“I don’t have to go to church to be a christian”

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     Sometimes, people ask, “Do I have to go to church to be a Christian?” The short answer is clearly, “No.” I am a Christian, I have a relationship with a living God and if I were stranded on a desert island or in a country that did not allow churches, then I would still have that relationship with God. I would still be a Christian. However, the answer is not complete if left there.

     I think we first need to think about why you might ask that question. Imagine a teenaged boy describing his friendship with a girl. What if he said, “She invites me round and I go because she cooks nice food. But I tell her before I go, ‘I will come but we’re not going to talk’, so I don’t have to speak to her when I’m there. She doesn’t seem to mind.”? Frankly, that is appalling! We should not treat other people like that! Now compare that to how you might be treating God. Understand this, God likes you. He wants to have a friendship with you. That involves some effort on both sides.

     Maybe we first need to think about what is a Christian. What makes someone a Christian? “Ah,” you might say, “Well, I believe in God.” Let’s look at that for a minute. I have been reading the book of James in the Bible. I love that book – he is so rude to people! I’m sure you know that Mary gave birth to Jesus (what we celebrate every christmas) but you may not realise that after she had Jesus, she and Joseph then had other children. One of these was James. He grew up with Jesus and yet it is thought that for a while he didn’t believe that Jesus was special. There is even a story about Jesus preaching to people and his family coming to try and stop him because they thought he was crazy! That gives me hope, when I get things wrong I know that so did the people who wrote the Bible but they had a second chance at getting it right. Later, James did come to believe what Jesus was saying and at some point he wrote his book. In that book, he discusses what it means to be a Christian and he talks about people who say they believe in God. First he says, “Well done!”

     Few people would dispute that just as there are good things in the world, so too there are evil influences. In the Bible these are called demons or Satan. Now, when people tell James that they believe in God, he says, “Well done.” He then adds (a little sarcastically perhaps) “So do the demons!” You see, the Bible is very clear that these evil forces believe in God and are terrified of him because they recognise his power. Clearly demons are not Christians, so there must be more to being a Christian than just believing that God is real.

     Think about when your computer freezes. Something has gone wrong, nothing works properly and pressing ‘escape’ or ‘control and delete’ makes no difference. Sometimes, the only option is to shut it down and restart. Well, that is what becoming a Christian is. It is realising that we’ve made a mess of things, something is not working properly and we need to restart. You have a ‘restart’ button, you just need to ask God to press it for you! It really is that easy.

     There is nothing that you can do to make things right with God, you are not big enough, clever enough or good enough. So God did it all. He became a human (in the form of Jesus) and he died and was separated from the God bit of himself, which means that we don’t have to. Jesus rose up from the dead (what we celebrate at Easter time) to show that he is stronger than death, that everything is sorted out for us. We just have to ask God to press that ‘restart’ button to set us right.

     Actually, this can be quite hard to do. We like to be in control, we like to think that what we do makes a difference, that somehow we can become good enough for God. Well, I have to tell you, the Bible is very clear, there is nothing that you can do to be acceptable to God. You are not good enough. So God did it for you. You do have to be prepared to accept that gift though, you do have to want that ‘restart’ button to be pressed. If life is going well for you, that can be a bit scary. We are worried that it means loss of control, that we wont be ourselves anymore. Let me remind you of what I said at the beginning: God likes you. Really, he does! He doesn’t want you to become a different person, just a better version of yourself.

     You don’t have to be a ‘bad’ person to need God. Everyone needs him. I have travelled to lots of different countries, met rich people and poor and I can honestly tell you, people are people wherever you go. I have stayed at the Savoy Hotel and been driven to St James’ Palace in a fleet of silver mercedes to have dinner with Prince Charles (this is due to who I married, nothing to do with me, in case you are mistaken into thinking I am great in any way.) I have also stayed in a mud hut in Zambia with a couple who were HIV positive. I have visited China, Singapore, Dubai, India, Italy, America and most of Europe and there is one thing that I can tell you. People are the same. They might be culturally very different, but deep down, we all want the same things, we all love, we all have fears, we all make a mess of things. We all need God. It is that simple.

     So, what comes next? After we have admitted that actually we might not be perfect and we want to include God in our lives, what do we have to do now? Well, you do not have to do anything (including go to church.) However, if you really have ‘restarted’ (and not just said the words to yourself as a sort of magic chant or insurance policy), if you really do want to include God in how you live, then that will make a difference to how you live.

     A baby is alive after he’s born, but he doesn’t grow into a healthy child and adult unless he eats and exercises. So, just as we need to spend time with people and chat with them to develop a friendship, so too we need to spend time with God. No, this still does not have to involve going to a church! We chat with God by praying (saying things to him, either out loud or thinking them in our heads.) We listen to God by paying attention to our consciences, reading the Bible (where he has given us lots of hints about what he is like) and by listening to other christians. Ah, now we get to the church bit. How can you listen to other Christians, hear their story and share yours, if you never meet any?

     It is a bit like supporting a football team. I can say I support Crystal Palace. I can buy a scarf that’s the right colour, I can check the results in the newspaper, I can even watch a match on television. But it would be hard for that knowledge to touch my emotions. However, if I attend one of their games, if I stand with other supporters and cheer when they score, then just the volume and shared excitement will begin to affect me. I am helped along by other fans’ enthusiasm and I actually feel part of what I say I am involved with. It is hard (and a bit boring) to be a football fan in isolation. It is the same with being a Christian.

     “What constitutes a church?” you might ask. Does it need to be in an Anglican Church building or does the church that meets in my local school count? Well, if we look back at the Bible, a ‘church’ was actually just a group of people who believed the same thing. The first Christians were actually thrown out of their synagogues (the equivalent of our church buildings) and tended to meet secretly in houses. A church is not the building, it is the people. Sometimes buildings can be helpful. I cannot stand in a huge cathedral like St Paul’s without thinking about God, all the architecture has been designed to make me feel like that. However, the building is not essential. Three people meeting in a field to talk about God, to pray and study the Bible together; that is a church.

     Some people might say they don’t need God, they are wrong. I think this is why Jesus talked about it being hard for a rich person to know God. When we are healthy and comfortable it can be hard to acknowledge that we need God, we think we are ‘okay actually’. Some people think they are too bad to know God, they are wrong too. God is able to press the ‘restart’ button for murderers, thieves, adulterers and even that nasty gossip from down the road! The Bible calls all that ‘sin’, but it’s not a word that tends to crop up at the dinner table so I have tried to avoid using it. None of us is good enough, certainly I’m not. That’s another reason for going to a church – it will help you to realise that you are not the only bad person who God likes!

    Have you ever read ‘Screwtape Letters’ by C.S. Lewis? If not, buy a copy. It’s a brilliant book, very funny but with some really poignant truths included. He talks about all the strange and ordinary people who attend church.

    “Ah,” you might say, “But churches are religious. I am a Christian but I don’t believe in religion. Religion just causes trouble, look at all the wars that have been started by religion.” You are half right. Religion does cause trouble. That is why Jesus did not start a new religion, he just pointed people to God. He refused to set down lists of rules, he just gave people principles to live by. When churches start making lots of rules, when they are more concerned with religion than with God, then they are missing the point. Christianity is meant to be about relationship, not rules.

     I am often told that “church is boring.” Yes, sometimes it is. If it always is, then maybe you are going to the wrong church. I would also ask you, when you go to church, what are you expecting to get out of it? If your answer is “nothing” then you are probably right, you probably will get nothing from attending. However, if you dare to go hoping that you might hear God speaking to you, then that is much more likely to happen. Sometimes it is something the speaker says, sometimes it’s something in the reading that week, or a hymn that’s sung, or even what the person giving out the hymn books says, but usually, if we expect God to speak, we hear him. I would also say that just like a growing baby, we grow in faith very slowly. Sometimes it is much later that we remember something that was said in church and it helps us. But if you weren’t there, you wont hear it.

     If church is a collection of people, then try to find a church which has people like you in it. If you are a teenager, try to find where other teenaged Christians meet. If you are a retired person, then try to find somewhere that older Christians meet. If a church caters for all ages that is wonderful but in my experience it is rare.

    Do we have to go to church on Sundays? I guess not. If you attend a school Christian Union or something similar, then that is really just another form of ‘church’. We are advised though that we need one day a week that we keep as a holy day, a day to rest and where thinking about God is part of our routine (I think God knew how bad we would be at including him, so suggested that it should become part of our schedule!) That is hard to do if we attend ‘church’ on a week day.

    What about other religions? To be honest, I don’t know. As I said, christianity is all about that ‘restart’ button, about including God in your life and having a relationship with him. I don’t know if people can find God in other religions. I do have a sneaky suspicion that when I get to Heaven there will be a lot of people there who I wasn’t expecting! Whether or not people have a relationship with God is between them and God.

    What about Hell? Again, this is something that I don’t know much about about. If being with God makes us complete and fulfilled then I guess Hell must be the opposite of that. Sometimes people ask about who goes to Hell and what about people who try but never knew God. I cannot say, that is between them and God. But the Bible is pretty clear that if people decide that they don’t want to include God when they are physically alive, then God will respect that after they have died. That’s what free will and choice is all about, even if it means terrible consequences.

    So, have a think and decide what you believe. If you haven’t ever asked God to press the ‘restart’ button in your life, maybe now is a good time to do so. There aren’t any magic words, God is God, not a genie in a bottle! You might say something like:

   “God, I believe that you are real. I know that I make mistakes and I’m sorry. Please will you forgive all the things that I’ve done wrong. Please be part of my life. I want you to be my God.”

    Then, you should tell someone. We are physical beings and telling someone will help you to believe what you have done and not forget about it. Then go and find some other christians! In England you could look for somewhere that runs an Alpha course (they tend to be churches that welcome new Christians.)

    Do you have to go to church if you are a Christian? Not unless you want to grow……

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End.

Anne E Thompson

APPRENTICE AUTHOR

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End

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by Anne E Thompson

“I wonder what she thought of that,
Was so funny when he said no!
I must remember to contact Jim,
This traffic light is slow.
I think we need more milk and eggs,
I’ll check when we get home.
I could do with a cup of coffee now,
I hope that Mum will phone.
I’m not sure if…..”

Slash of metal, scream of brake,
Glint of sunlight, briefest quake.

Nothing.

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