travel

Instow 2018 – Earthquakes and Sand

Posted by

1


Drove to Instow House. Same as when we left it, including the copy of Hidden Faces which I’d left on the bookshelf.
Ate dinner at Instow Arms, which clever Husband had booked before we left home. We ate early (7pm) but it was packed. I had creamy garlic mushrooms, which arrived in a bowl, like soup, and was delicious, followed by fish pie. Also delicious, but after a while I felt overly full of cream. Not a good choice by me.
Walked on beach with Kia, who went completely bananas. She reverts to puppy on beaches, stopping regularly to dig holes.
Watched tv, went to bed.

Day Two

Woke up to sound of seagulls and waves. Went to make tea and let dog into garden. Quite a lot of beach now seemed to be in kitchen.
Drove to Saunton Sands. Husband suggested another walk to beach across dunes, but as I had left my bullet-proof vest and crash helmet at home (see blog from Jan 17 https://anneethompson.com/2017/01/30/a-walk-on-the-wild-side/ ) I declined. Drove safely to carpark, not shot at once, and no sign of tanks or machine guns. Which is what most people might expect. (See Jan 17 blog. I still have not completely recovered…) Brilliant walk on miles of sand, beautiful sunshine, sky reflected on wet beach. Perfect.
Saw a Mermaid’s Purse, and commented to Husband that Son hadn’t believed it held shark’s eggs on a recent beach trip. Found myself having the exact same argument/discussion with Husband, who insisted it was clearly made from plant matter, and was therefore a type of seaweed. Told him to Google it. He did. Turns out I was right (obviously, or I wouldn’t be telling you this!) Heard those rare words : “Gosh, you were right. I was wrong.” Pretended I couldn’t hear, so he had to say it twice (might never have it said again, tis a rare event indeed…)
Walked for about 90 minutes. Returned to car, and found a Yorkie bar I stashed there months ago. Double perfect.
Drove along coast to Croyde. Husband told me that it’s where Kevin Hallam used to go for his family holidays. I don’t know who Kevin Hallam is, so was not terribly interested. Was then told about Kevin’s family, Warhammer, English degree at Oxford, and that he drove into Husband’s Beetle when they were 17. But the countryside was pretty, so I let him talk (for quite a long time actually. If you know Kevin, do say Hi from me).

Lunch at cottage, followed by an earthquake. Nope, this is not an innuendo, we really did have an earthquake. Apparently the epicentre was in Swansea and it measured 4.9. The cottage was unhappy at being shaken, and new cracks appeared. No reaction from dog at all (too exhausted from exciting beach walks).

 

 

Drove to Appledore, which is the village we can see across the estuary. It was full of coloured cottages, information signs and windowsills full of tat. Honestly, if you like stuffed parrots, and pots, and suits of armour, and knitted toys, then you will love the windowsills of Appledore. Some wit had decided to make their own signs, so we passed a chip shop (deliveries to Paris, New York and Appledore) the house where Barbie and Ken lived, and the Beaver Pub (where nothing happened in 1782). There was also a dry dock, which Husband found very interesting (it’s a male thing, not worth looking at unless you are male).

I was keen to find a church for Sunday. There were a lot of churches and chapels. I am quite a connoisseur of churches, so perused the notice boards. Rejected the Bethel chapel (not sure they would welcome someone wearing jeans). Rejected the C of E, despite very cool tower, as the service was communion (a minefield for mistakes in a foreign church). Rejected another chapel as being too far up a hill. Decided the Baptist church looked safe, despite the plaques advertising groups which must’ve been in place about 100 years ago. But there was a photo of a band (so jeans would be okay) and they ran an Alpha course – so probably like new people.
However, when driving back to cottage, we passed a tiny church, just round the corner. It had an 11am service (not communion) and they run a mid-week lunch club. Decided I would give it a try. Will let you know…

 

 

Thank you for reading.
Take care,

Love,
Anne x

*******

If you enjoyed this, why not sign up to follow my blog?

anneethompson.com

*************

India

Posted by

1


(When I took the above photo, a man appeared from nowhere, and tried to make me pay him. I’m not sure he was even connected to the lorry! I walked away, and let Husband deal with him.)

Still so much that’s new in India. Today I tried ‘Dragon Fruit’ or ‘pitaya’. I’ve seen them in supermarkets in the UK, but never known how to eat them. I asked the man delivering them, and he said to cut it lengthways into quarters, and then gently pull back the peel. I washed it first, just to eliminate chance of eating germs. It looks really amazing. It tastes really disappointing! Is okay, but nowhere near as exciting as it looks. Apparently, they are very good for you, and full of cancer-fighting nutrients. They grow on cacti.

On Monday, Husband had to work. I arranged to meet a friend in the lobby for tea. I asked her if Mumbai was safe for a woman to walk around alone. She assured me that she walks everywhere, and has never had any trouble. The main danger is scams and pick-pockets, so I should be alert, but was unlikely to be attacked, even after dark, and even in poorer areas. Sometimes, being somewhere very different to home can seem scary, but usually it’s safe.

I had previously asked my friend to read through CLARA, to check it was acceptable from an Indian’s point of view. It is very difficult to write about another culture, and I was keen that I shouldn’t write something that seemed offensive to people living in India. There were a few changes she suggested, mainly to names, but mostly it was okay. When we met, I was able to show her the cover photograph. I am just waiting for the cover to arrive for approval, and then the printer can print it. All getting very exciting now. It is, I think, the best book I have written, so I hope you will read a copy.

In the evening we went to the hotel bar. There was also a rooftop bar, but it was shut due to a horrific fire at another hotel, where several people had been killed. I’m not sure whether the government had shut all rooftop bars as a precaution, perhaps to check their safety procedures. This bar was okay, but had the most uncomfortable seats ever. Women over 50 like comfy seats. I also got a lot of feedback from Husband about my cardigan. I ignored him, I’m sure it will start a new trend.

Last breakfast. The breakfast is nice, but the table-setting is a bit random. There should be cutlery, a bottle of water, glass, side-plate and napkin for each place. But there often isn’t. Sometimes things are delivered as you eat. It’s a little odd to be presented with a side-plate and napkin when you’ve nearly finished eating! There are a LOT of staff waiting the tables. I’m guessing each one has a specific role, and they don’t always keep up when new guests arrive to eat. They also have a tendency to come and chat while you’re eating. They hover near the table, and ask if everything is okay (which happens in UK restaurants) but then stay to ask what plans you have for the day, and if you’re enjoying the hotel. I’m not sure whether to pause my eating while they’re there, or carry on chewing whilst they chat.

Arriving home after a holiday is always nice. When you first arrive, there’s a certain novelty to cleaning your teeth in tap water, and being able to eat a bowl of cereal when you’re hungry. You have all your memories and photographs, and it doesn’t matter that you haven’t yet unpacked because you’ve only just arrived home. Then, two weeks later, you feel like you’ve never been away, you’re tired again, and feeling stressed because you still haven’t managed to put away the suitcases! Or perhaps you’re more organised than me.

I do enjoy being in India, even though it’s exhausting. I have visited several times over the last few months, talking to people who live in the poorer areas, learning about their lives, visiting their homes. It has been fascinating. I wonder when I’ll come again.

Thank you for reading.

Why not sign up to follow my blog?
anneethompson.com

xxxx

Don’t forget to look out for my new book: CLARA – A Good Psychopath?
An exciting story that shows what it’s like to be poor in India. It’s nearly ready…

***

Dhobi Ghat

Posted by

2


Dhobi Ghat

We decided to walk to Dhobi Ghat, next to Mahalaxmi railway station. This is a laundry, built by the British Raj in 1890, and still in use today. It was easy to find, as it really is right next to the station, and you can see lines of washing as you approach. We stood on the bridge, next to the station, and looked down at the laundry.

There were concrete pools of water, each with a flogging stone (where the laundry is bashed until clean). People stood in the pools, dunking linen, and rinsing it in great vats of water. There were also people washing themselves and cleaning their teeth – it all seemed to happen in the same water, though I could see a narrow gulley that was taking away the dirty water. Hanging above them, were lines and lines of washing.

The laundry is used by hotels and hospitals, and smaller laundries, who send the linen there to be washed, and then iron it before returning it to the customer (for a profit). Clothing manufacturers also send stuff there that they want ‘stone washed’, and we saw lots of jeans hanging to dry. They also dye fabric. The owner’s name is written in the back of garments, so they all get returned to the correct people (though it looked to me as if there might be muddles sometimes).

The people who work there are called ‘dhobis’. They don’t earn much, and many now also double up as tour guides. Some have installed washing machines and dryers, which we could see under awnings, but there was still lots of hand-washing happening.

The laundry is big – I read that 7,000 people work there. There were little pens, and tiny houses, all within the laundry walls, though some people live in the slums outside. Lots of tourists were there, taking photographs. We could see lots from the bridge, though for once I wished I had my big camera and not just a phone to take photos.

We walked down, looking for a way inside. The street was very crowded, with tiny shops and stalls and traffic and people. We passed a stall selling meat – there were chickens wilting in the sunshine behind the stall, struggling to get next to a fan. They were killed to order, which makes for very fresh meat (which is necessary when there’s not refrigeration) but an unhappy life for a chicken. We also passed blocks of public washrooms, when you tried to not breath in as you walked past. They are probably the only facilities available for the people who live there, as there didn’t look like they had any plumbing actually in their houses.

We found a gate into the laundry. There was a faded sign, saying that it was in The Guinness Book of World Records, for the most hand-washing done at once. A man appeared, and offered to give us a tour. But it all looked a bit daunting and ‘unofficial’, so we declined.

It was very interesting. When we got back to the hotel, I read that the local people don’t particularly like the laundry, seeing as a dirty place. Apparently most of the cases of malaria and dengue fever come from the laundry. The slums surrounding the laundry are gradually being cleared away, and replaced with tower blocks for the workers to live in. I hope they are better.

***
I hope you’re enjoying my blogs about India. I have visited several times over the last few months, mainly going into the poorer areas and talking to people, learning about their lives, so I could write my next book.  
CLARA – A Good Psychopath?

Due to be released soon. Don’t miss it. A compelling read with some huge ideas.

 

Thank you for reading.
Why not sign up to follow my blog?
anneethompson.com

 

xxxxxxx

 

Walk to Worli Sea Face

Posted by

1


Walk to Worli Sea Face

Our second day in Mumbai, and we decided to walk a little further than yesterday (it would be hard to walk less far, as we barely left the hotel driveway!)

We set off after breakfast. I was again struck by the contrast between the hotel behind us and the life happening at the end of the driveway. The hotel has large metal gates and guards, to stop the life encroaching on the unreality of the luxurious hotel (though we encroached on the bustle of real life happening on the street). We had a map, and walked for about two miles to the coast. It felt much longer, due to the heat and the noise and the pollution. You can’t walk too fast here, because the air is too thick to want to take deep breaths. I didn’t notice much pollution when we were here before, but we were right on the coast then, so maybe that makes a difference.

India bombards you. You need to be very alert when you walk, as there is lots of potential danger (like the man welding above your head, or the motorbike zooming along the path, or the man carrying a pile of unsecured bricks on his shoulder). The pavement is often rough, with loose paving stones, and there is a whole lot of nasty stuff you need to avoid stepping in. Plus you want to see. There is so much life happening, and you want to notice it all, not miss anything. So you walk slowly, and with care, and you wish you had more than one pair of eyes.

People here live their lives on the street. If you have scissors and a chair, you have a barber’s shop. We passed fruit stalls, and a printer’s shop where machines were spewing out reams of posters, and a laminating shop, and a small unit where they were cutting and polishing granite. A man with a sewing machine was making a suit jacket, and a woman with tweezers was removing a splinter from a child’s foot. A group of women were threading flower heads into garlands outside a temple, and cows were tethered to railings. So much life. I guess, if the weather is dry, and you don’t value privacy, then being outside isn’t unpleasant. It’s hard to evaluate different cultures, and I wonder what those people would think if they visited my home. They would probably think it odd how secluded we are, strange that we should live such isolated lives in our big houses and cars and offices.

I don’t know why I love India. It’s too hot and smoggy and smelly. There is constant noise, and I don’t like eating any of the food because it upsets my tummy. And yet, there is something here that fascinates me and draws me back. Perhaps it’s the people, who are polite and who decorate their clothes and buildings with such lovely patterns. I like the way people are busy, striving to improve, always on the look out for a chance in life.

The sea front was hot, and smoggy. Not particularly beautiful. (The dog in the photo was asleep, not dead.) There was a naked old man bathing, so I had to angle my photographs carefully (didn’t want to shock my mother). Walked back to hotel, and showered. Being outside is fascinating, but I need a safe clean place to escape back to – not sure I would enjoy India if I was back-packing.

When I checked the local news, I read that a boat had sunk just outside Mumbai, carrying a party of school children. And a helicopter had crashed into the bay. And a leopard had wandered into a residential area, mauling people before it could be sedated. (I didn’t even know there were leopards in Mumbai, but it didn’t say it had escaped from anywhere, so maybe there are.) As I said, you need to be careful in India…

Thank you for reading.
Tomorrow we plan to visit an ancient laundry. Why not sign up to follow my blog?
anneethompson.com

xxxx

(A rather hot, wishing I had tied back my hair, photo. Was told I looked ‘Mumsy’. Assume that’s a compliment.)

 

***********

First Day in Mumbai

Posted by

2


Slept very heavily, but breakfast finishes at 10:30 local time, so had to set alarm for about 4:40am BST. Short night. Dragged myself to restaurant, hoping it would be worth it. It was. There were dozens of counters serving different food, all freshly cooked. Some were ethnic Indian, some more European. It all looked amazing, with a huge choice of fruits and breads and hot food. A man walked around serving tiny glasses of chai (a spicy tea). My stomach is rubbish at accepting strange foods and different bacteria, so I am always extremely cautious when away, and limit myself to only freshly cooked hot vegetarian food. This was not easy here, as everything looked so tempting, but I forced myself to have just pancakes and black coffee. Husband ate everything.

We did almost nothing all day. The hotel is lovely, with a pool area and spa and fitness room. There is constant noise from the street below, but you don’t really notice it. There is some interesting art work.

At 3pm local time, we went to the drawing room, as our room included complimentary afternoon tea. I knew it was unlikely I would eat any (wouldn’t be hot freshly cooked food) but Husband was keen to sample it. A beautiful array of cakes and sandwiches arrived – it was so hard not to forget my ‘rule’ and just gobble it down. But I knew I was bound to be ill, so limited myself to tea. There was a pianist, and it was all very lovely.

We decided to go out for a stroll. Asked various members of staff if the area was safe to walk around. None of them understood, and all asked where we wanted to go, and whether we wanted a hotel car or a taxi. Am guessing most guests don’t walk. We looked online, and it seemed that walking around this area was safe, as long as we were careful of pickpockets and scams. Violent crime against tourists seems rare.

We walked out the driveway, and instantly were plunged into ‘real India’. There were tiny shops and stalls and people working on the street. Men were welding on balconies, there was a laminating factory, a printing works, grocery stores, people cooking. The whole of life happening right there on the street. We didn’t walk far – it was hot and we were tired – but we saw so much in such a short time. That is India. Very poor and very rich all overlap, and you can’t avoid noticing the contrast. I was wearing smart clothes and sunglasses, which felt very out of place as soon as I left the hotel. Next time I’ll wear my old jeans and a tee-shirt, though I will still look like a tourist. I am so big here, I feel like a giant compared to local people.

Ate dinner in hotel restaurant. We both tried to order food that wouldn’t be too spicy. We both failed. I find I eat a lot of shortbread (brought from England) when I’m in India. I think to enjoy the food here, you need a very strong stomach and to enjoy extremely hot food (we eat a lot of curry in the UK, but it’s much milder than here).

Went to bed about 8pm (1.30am local time). Another day I want to walk to the sea front, and maybe go to see Dhobi Ghat, which is an ancient laundry and is near enough to walk to. Today was about resting after Christmas and new year and the journey, but we still managed to dip a toe into India. It’s a fascinating place. Thank you for reading.

Why not sign up to follow my blog? anneethompson.com

 

Setting Off

Posted by

1


Left home at 5.30 am. When I’m travelling with Husband, arriving on time is never a worry. Taxi to Heathrow.

Went through all the airport procedures – luggage-drop, security, passport checks. As Husband travels so often, he knows exactly what to do at each turn, and always seems to be on the next stage. Every time I glanced up from finding my passport, or putting it back into my bag, or reloading liquids into my hand-luggage – he was out of sight and onto the next stage. (To be honest, I am not entirely sure why when you are at the airport 32 hours before your flight leaves, it is necessary to sprint through every stage. Just saying.)

Husband travelling for work, and me using copious amounts of airmiles, so rather nice lounge experience. Though we were travelling with BA, and in my opinion, they are not as nice as Virgin. They had paper towels in the washrooms, for goodness sake! You’ll be pleased to know I coped.

Eventually got onto the plane. Then had usual difficult choice between drinking enough liquid so I don’t get a headache due to dehydration, and drinking so much that I can’t avoid frequent trips to washroom. Which is never pleasant. Scowled at fellow passengers, one of whom was creator of bad smells/tissue on floor/soap smeared on tap.

Time passed slowly. At home, I would love 9 hours of peace to do whatever I pleased. On an aeroplane, it seems never-ending. Bit of reading. Bit of Duolingo (brilliant app – have you seen it?) Bit of watching ‘Filmstars Don’t Die in Liverpool’ (which was too sad, so stopped after an hour). Bit of watching ‘Kingsmen the Golden Circle’ (which was too in-your-face-nasty, so stopped. Which is a shame, as I enjoyed the first film and thought it was rather classy. This was aimed at hormonal boys who can’t cope with subtlety). Watched whole of a documentary about Stephen Spielberg, which was hugely interesting. Did you know he directed Jaws when he was just 25? He even looked a bit like Son 1 – must tell him he needs to do something brilliant soon, he’s getting a bit behind already.

Just before we arrived, the steward gave us landing cards for immigration. Why do they do that? Why wait until you have a completely numb brain and can’t remember your own name, and then ask you to fill tiny boxes with your passport number and the phone number of your hotel? Maybe it’s how they get their own back on the smelly bowelled washroom spoiler.

Immigration, in any country, is always torture. We, of course, had to sprint there, which meant we managed to catch up with all the queues from the flight before us. So worth doing. Then we had a very scary time of separation, when Husband joined the ‘working visa’ line, and I had to find the correct line for a holiday visa. Which actually did not exist, so I joined the ‘e-visa, re-entry to country’ line (which seemed a slightly better option than the ‘e-visa, Japanese nationals’ line, which was my second choice. No idea why Japanese nationals need their own line – do you know? I am sometimes mistaken for being Chinese, so I thought I could wing it, but felt European passport might be a weakness). Made it into country.

Found Husband. Found suitcases. Found hotel car. Arrived at St Regis Hotel, Mumbai, India, about 9pm BST. Long day.

Husband’s I have to travel with work too often Starwood Hotels card meant we got a free upgrade to a suite. All very plush and exciting (no paper handtowels here!) Felt very fortunate and went to bed. Will tell you more tomorrow, though actually, I intend to do nothing this trip. I need a rest.

Thanks for reading. Take care.

Love,
Anne x

 

 

xxxx

anneethompson.com
Why not sign up to follow my bog?

xxxxxxxx

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

 

Wandering in New York City

Posted by

2


We decided to walk from the bottom of Manhattan up to Central Park.

The weather was clear and bright, we were still on UK clocks, so after a 6am breakfast in Westway diner (614 Ninth Ave) we hailed a cab and set off.

There was some confusion when we tried to explain to the taxi driver where we wanted to go. I wanted to start at ‘The Charging Bull’, so we gave the street address, which he didn’t recognise. I remember being caught out by this before – in London, a black cab driver knows every street in London, but in NY, you sometimes need to give directions. Eventually he worked out we wanted the “Wall Street Bull” (even though it isn’t on Wall Street) and we were taken to the right place. He was then quite chatty, and suggested we walk across Brooklyn Bridge.

Although we have visited New York many times (we used to live here – though that was about 20 years ago now, which I find slightly scary) we have never walked on the Brooklyn Bridge. (We did most other things, and visited the World Trade Centre and Liberty Island about 1,000 times, because all our UK visitors always wanted to go there.) So, we set off. We walked past Seaport, and after a slight David-detour, we found the pedestrian access to the bridge. It was still early, and lots of keep-fit types were running across the bridge, looking very intense with their fitness apps and running gear. We tried to keep out their way, and wandered across. Brooklyn Bridge has some of the best views of the island, so was worth visiting just for the photo opportunity. Though some people do take an incredibly long time composing their photos, even when it’s just taken on a phone (just saying).

We then walked up the island, through the different districts. I love doing this, as you get a real flavour of the cosmopolitan place that is New York City. Past City Hall and Foley Square (very like city of London) through China Town, into Little Italy, up through NoHo, to the Flatiron building. Then we got hungry, and went back to a very crowded Westway diner for lunch (everyone else was eating breakfast). According to my phone, we walked 18km.

 

 Lafayette Patisserie is a nice place to stop. I hope you like the hat. It got a surprising number of comments, all from Husband, all derogatory. Have put ‘new hat’ on Christmas list. NY is cold though, you need a hat.

 

 

 

 

The next day we walked the length of Central Park. We could have spent hours in there, wandering around, it’s huge. In the past we have taken a boat out on the lake, or visited the zoo, and when the kids were young they used to climb over the Alice in Wonderland statue. It brought back lots of memories. (And was 15km.)

My last day, we decided to walk across the island, to see Roosevelt Island. On the way, we passed a large glass window, into a large room with about 20 dogs, and a girl throwing a ball for them. It was a doggy day-care centre. I’m not sure Kia would be impressed, but it looked okay actually if you have a sociable dog.

We walked past the United Nations Building, which I remember as a completely different building, so think I must’ve labelled some old photos wrongly. It all looked rather foreboding, with lots of security.

We also saw a giant inflatable rat, which the unions put outside buildings that they deem to have bad working conditions.

We saw Queensboro Bridge, which goes over Roosevelt Island, but doesn’t stop on it. There was a cable car, but I hate cable cars and refused, absolutely, to go in it. Husband was understanding. In return, I went into Home Depot with him (used to be his favourite shop when we lived there. It’s full of man-stuff). We walked passed Carnegie Hall, along E59th, along the bottom of Central Park. We bought coffee and bagels for lunch.

I flew home the next day. I love New York City, it’s a city you can visit many times, and usually find something new to discover, or an old memory to revisit. There’s always lots to do, shows to see, galleries, museums, restaurants….but best of all, I think, is simply to wander around.

***

Thank you for reading.
You can follow my blog at: anneethompson.com

xxx

New York in November

Posted by

0


 

The day after Thanksgiving is an excellent time to arrive in New York. The fares are cheaper, you miss most of the shopping frenzy, and everywhere is beginning to get ready for Christmas. New York decorates very beautifully for Christmas.

Husband was working in Manhattan, so I joined him for a few days. I needed to get home in time for multiple Christmas Fairs (great time to sell books) so I decided I would keep to a slightly late English clock. This worked brilliantly, as New York at 6am is fantastic. You can wander along empty streets, all the shops are shut (am not a shopper) and there are enough diners open so eating is easy (I am an eater!)

 

We mainly ate at Westway Diner, 614 Ninth Avenue. It has a plaque up, saying it is the birthplace of the Seinfeld series, but mainly it’s just a great New York diner. I got used to this when we lived here, and I love coming back, and slipping back into the easy routine of eating whenever I want: comfy booths, constantly topped up coffee, huge portions of comfort food, fast service. Nowhere in the world does pancakes, bacon and maple syrup quite like New York. Or cinnamon bagels with cream cheese. Or waffles with bananas and pecans. Or blueberry pie and cream. Really, I come to New York just to eat.

The decorations are good too though. As I said, 6am is the best time, as later there are queues of people lining up to see the displays in the big shops. Saks on Fifth Avenue, Macy’s, Bloomingdales, Cartier – not places I would enjoy entering, but beautiful displays for Christmas. Outside, the Salvation Army ring handbells and collect money for charity. Even the banks make an effort.

There are lots of little parks, with Christmas markets (not that they call them that – they are keen to remove all religion, so they are “Winter Markets”. But everyone knows they are for Christmas.) I especially liked the one in Bryant Park. Early morning, you can wander round, looking at all the wonderful stuff which is great to look at, but you wouldn’t want to actually own it, and no one hassles you to buy.

People are very friendly in the mornings – lots of cheery greetings from the bin men (and homeless people)! New York generates a lot of rubbish, so there seem to be piles of it awaiting collection on every street. You can also, if bored, play a fun game of “spot the rats”.

The main thing to remember in New York, is to look up. At street level, many of the buildings look like boring offices, but several storeys up, they have wonderful carved facades and decorations. Husband assures me this is because when touting for work, architects make models, which are viewed from above, so all the fancy bits are where they will be seen by prospective buyers but are never noticed when the real building is actually built. Not sure if that’s true or not.

You should also visit Trump Tower. Whatever you think of the man or the politics, you have to agree that his tower has the cleanest, fanciest public washrooms in New York. And finding public washrooms you want to use is quite hard in New York.

We also popped into St Patricks Cathedral. They have a Nativity scene, which includes a dog. Not entirely sure this is at all accurate, but it’s sweet to look at. There is also a sign, assuring you that if you donate money, you will receive more in the future. Am sure this is not accurate and was slightly shocked by the gall of it. But it’s a nice building to visit.

We stayed at the Four Points by Sheraton, on 40th between 8th and 9th. It was a great position for seeing things, as it’s just down from Times Square and an easy walk from Westway diner. However, it is not the nicest area. You can do a Google search for ‘safe places in New York city’ and there is a map, which shades areas according to how safe they are. Our hotel didn’t score too well – which, as it’s behind the bus station, sandwiched between the Probation office and various sex shops, was understandable. However, whilst I wouldn’t have walked outside after dark on my own, it was fine. And the hotel inside was clean and comfy.

Unfortunately, there is an Apple shop, and Husband was keen to look. Apple shops are very boring, and have a weird queue system, whereby the very long line of people are ordering the new iphoneX, and if you want to buy anything else you have to ask the man in the red fleece, who will put you on a list. However, if you write a blog, there is hours of fun to be had, making every display model look at your blog – which does wonders for the number of views you receive in a day! (But don’t tell anyone, is probably not very ethical.)

 

We decided to walk from the bottom of Manhattan to the park. I’ll tell you about it in a later blog. Why not sign up to follow my blog, then you won’t miss it. anneethompson.com

Thank you for reading.

Here are some more displays, for those of you who like pretty Christmas stuff!

***

Christmas is coming, and books make great gifts. So much nicer than yet another scarf for Aunty Joan… So, why not buy one of my books? Available from an Amazon near you.

  

 

xxx

The Charging Bull in the Financial District

Posted by

3


Here’s something to think about. I popped to New York (husband on a work trip) and while there I went to see the sculpture of a charging bull in the Financial District. It’s big, raging, and impressive. It has also caused some controversy.

Apparently, bulls have long been associated with the stock market. A rising trend in the markets is known as “a bull market” and a falling trend is known as a “bear market”. Which is why you tend to have The Bull and Bear pubs situated near old markets in the City of London. The Charging Bull, however, was meant to signify something else. Charging Bull was sculpted by Anturo Di Modica in 1989. It was after the stock market crash of 1987, and he wanted to create a symbol of the “strength and power of American people”. The bull is twisting and turning, full of unpredictable energy and strength. I like it.

Now, Di Modica wasn’t commissioned to make the bull, nor was he paid for it. He had the rather clever idea of making five bulls, and placing one in New York (for free) and hoping to sell the other four. As a self-published author, I can relate to his feelings – you just want people to notice and appreciate your talents, then you hope the sales will follow. (Not sure a book placed in a park would work as well though.) Initially, NYPD impounded the bull, but so many people liked it, they were compelled to return it to the street. There are now bulls in Shanghai and Amsterdam (which I assume were paid for). So Di Modica’s gamble paid off. Sort of.

The problem arose later this year, when State Street Global Advisors had a clever marketing strategy of their own (possibly inspired by the success of the Charging Bull). They commissioned Kristen Visbal to make a sculpture of the Fearless Girl, and they placed it in front of the bull. Now, the unleashed power and strength of the bull appear aggressive. The placing of the girl has completely changed the image of the bull. Di Modica is rather annoyed by this, and I guess as he owns the bull, he might come and collect it one day. Alternatively, I think he should make another sculpture – of a calling mother shouting towards the girl. Then instead of being a brave, ‘fearless girl’ she would look like a defiant, stupid child. But then that could go on forever, and probably Wall Street doesn’t want hundreds of sculptures, each one changing the image of the other. (Would make for a good exhibition though, someone should do it.)

Now, what I want you to think about, is this. One thing can very much change in the light of something else. I remember, not so long ago, when the news reports were full of fleeing Syrian refugees, and most people felt very sorry for them. People made big statements about the world needing to help, that our country should allow them in, famous people even announced that they would be willing to house a few families in their mansions. Which were all good, well motivated, human responses.

However, today my local authority is discussing plans to build lots of new houses. No one wants them. No one is discussing who will live in them (and probably it won’t be Syrian refugees, but it will, I assume, be people who do need houses) but no one wants them. Not in our fields, not where we walk our dog, not within sight of our house. You see, the view of meeting the housing needs of others changes. As perhaps, do people’s views about everything. Whenever we make a statement, we need to be aware that unless we see the whole story, our views are likely to change. The strength and power of the American people can look like an aggressive charge against a defenceless girl. And a brave girl can look like a naughty child being stupid. It depends what else is in the picture.

 

***

Thank you for reading.
You can sign up to follow my blog at anneethompson.com.

 

***

Christmas is coming, and books make great gifts. So much nicer than yet another scarf for Aunty Joan… So, why not buy one of my books?

  

 

xxx

Last Days in Croatia, and into Venice

Posted by

0


We decided to hire a boat and sail around the little islands we can see from the coast and swim in places that aren’t full of other tourists. Family remembered our holiday in Malta, where they composed a song entitled “A Speedboat Driven by an Accountant”, so Husband decided to hire a boat with a skipper.

Had a brilliant day. The skipper (I never asked his name – isn’t that terrible) was a sports teacher during term time, and he kindly took us on a little tour. He told us that his grandfather has lived in the same small village his whole life, and has lived in six different countries : Austro-Hungary, Italy, Germany (under occupation), AngloAmerican, Yugoslavia and now Croatia. That is weird.

We stopped to swim a couple of times. All the water seems to be full of the ‘walnut sea jelly’ – a clear non-stinging jellyfish, but you get used to them after a while. The water is beautifully clear, and fish flash away as you swim. People who can dive (not me) dived from the side of the boat, and the skipper drove with enough speed for Husband’s hat to fly off (which was very funny. I never liked that hat.)

I felt inspired to write a short story when we got back (though not sure if this counts as ‘work’ – which I always give Husband a hard time about when we’re on holiday.)

 We spent the afternoon lazing around, then walked into Rovinj for espressos and ice creams. We looked around the market, and I saw lots of wonderful things to buy that I would never be able to transport home. I bought some lavender cushions – one for me, one for Mum. Not actually sure how I’ll transport them either, as my case was full to bursting on the way here.

Dinner at Tipico, Old Town again.

Last Day

The last day of a holiday is always a bit sad. Family hired kayaks.

Ate dinner at Tutto Bene (ViaE de Amicis 16). They don’t have vegetarian options on the menu, but will cook them if you ask. Lovely table outside, friendly waiter, nice food. Though I was too warm to properly enjoy it (I think my seat was next to the kitchen window.)

We packed. Early start tomorrow to try and avoid delays at the border.

Drive to Venice

We left Lone Hotel at 5am. The night manager looked nothing like Tom Hiddleston (shame) but he did give us all a packed lunch, as we would be missing breakfast. Isn’t that nice? I’ve never been offered that before when we’ve had to check-out early. It has been a really good hotel, with lots going on and good facilities.

The border crossing was fine, no queues at all (unlike the 4 hour ones we saw later in the day when arriving.)

We drove to Italy and stopped at a service station. Not a good experience. We arrived the same time as several coaches, so the lines were horrendous.

Arrived at The Marriot Hotel, Venice about 9:30 am. The hotel is fairly near the airport (you could walk there if you don’t mind the heat) and there’s a bus into the city – €3 return ticket.

Venice is beautiful, you have to visit. So much to see and photograph. It was also horribly crowded. We stayed here about 10 years ago, and I don’t remember it being crowded at all (except for St Mark’s Square, which is always busy.) Not sure if we were just unlucky, or if the number of tourists has become a problem. It was possible to find alleyways that were less busy, but they were a long way from the main attractions. I will leave you with some photos – all you need to do in Venice is take photos and find a pretty cafe for lunch. Oh, and buy a mask of course…..

Thank you for reading. It has been a fabulous holiday, I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about it. Always a shame to go back to real life, especially as the family all go back to their own homes and jobs.

Take care,
Love, Anne x

I normally write a post every Monday – why not sign up to follow my blog?
anneethompson.com

You can read the story I wrote after the boat trip here:
https://anneethompson.com/short-stories/other-stories/rainbows-in-the-spray-a-story-written-in-croatia/