Cyprus 3

Family Holiday Diary 2016

Wednesday

Nice breakfast, huge choice (The Colony hotel in Kyrenia, northern Cyprus.) Waiter was from Ukraine, had rings on his thumbs. Learnt ‘thank you’ in Ukrainian – ‘jack-queer’ (not unlike the Polish, ‘chink-queer’. Spelling my own, in case you were wondering.)

Family swam/sunbathed. H swam TWO lengths underwater. I wandered around the lanes of Kyrenia. Pretty town. Saw tiny shops, an abandoned church, a mosque, and lots of cats and dogs who wandered freely and seemed content.

Pizza lunch on hotel roof. Then most of us drove south, to Salamis (this was M’s choice, strangely. Either due to latent historic interest or because it features in certain computer games. I expect it was for intellectual reasons.) Salamis is old Roman/Hellenic city. Lots of random walls and pillars left. Very relaxed rules, we could walk where we liked (later read sister’s blog, which warns of snakes, but we didn’t see any.) Toilet incredibly clean (in case you ever visit.) Apparently Barnabus (New Testament character) lived there (in Salamis, not the toilet.)

Drove to Famagusta. Eventually found the part that has been fenced off (after lots of stress free U-turns by good natured husband.) It is weird. The deserted area runs right to the seafront, with fences and warnings going into the sea. What a waste. We could see houses, boutique hotels, shops, all left to crumble into ruin. Lots of barbed wire and notices warning people to keep out, that photos were prohibited, soldiers with guns – right next to kiosks selling cold beer, ice-cream and flipflops. I cannot believe it has been like this since 1974 and nothing has changed. No wonder people are angry. What a waste.

Didn’t get shot/arrested. Drove back to hotel. Buffet dinner in hotel. Not especially nice.

Thursday

The males have been clearly impressed/perturbed by H swimming so far underwater. This morning J nearly died, but also managed two lengths underwater. H then swam THREE lengths. Am worried J might die attempting this, have forbidden D from trying to keep up.

12:00 Checked out of hotel. Well, D checked out, it takes a long time for seven people to all arrive in the same place at the same time. About an hour.

Drove for a few hours, doing a slight detour to Mount Olympus. Grandpa was stationed here in the 1950’s, as part of his National Service. We weren’t sure what exactly he did, nor where exactly he was, but it was somewhere in the area and something to do with signals. Personally, I think that if Husband inherited his DIY skills, I might have found the aerial he put up….

Journey enhanced no end by D taking photographs of everyone for a very long time in the very hot sun.

Eventually arrived at Annabel Hotel, Paphos. J did a better job of map reading than yesterday (when we were suddenly aware he had fallen asleep….) Hotel seemed very nice, though crowded with English people. It has beautiful pool area with plants and lazy rivers and pillars and rows of sun beds. There’s even a pool bar, where you can sit on stools in the water. A few steps lead to the beach and a promenade you can walk along for miles, towards touristy shops or other hotels. Seems lovely.

Tomorrow I will tell you about Paphos (sometimes spelt Pafos.)

xxxxxxxxxxx

Thank you for reading.

anneethompson.com

xxxxxx

If you enjoyed this, you will enjoy reading my book, Hidden Faces. Strong characters and light humour in an easy read novel set in a school. Available from Amazon and local bookshops, £7:95.

xxxxxxxxxxxx

Cyprus

Posted by anneethompson

Family Holiday Diary 2016

Saturday

Met R and S at Gatwick. Ate big brunch in Lebanese restaurant. Males drank beers. At 11am.

I took my book to WHSmith to try and persuade the manager he might like to stock it (not easy to meet an ‘airside’ manager unless flying somewhere and it’s easier to persuade in person than by email.) He was surprised, said no one had ever asked him before, but promised to look into it (he was unsure if being at an airport meant he had less choice than a High Street branch – where the store manager has discretion over what he stocks.) Asked if he could have a copy of book for his staff to read. Left one (though losing a book had not been part of my plan!) I will email him when I’m home, in a couple of weeks, and let you know if he agrees to stock them.

Flight uneventful. 4hours.

Paphos airport efficient (empty, wondered why.) I used toilet. You can sometimes tell a lot about a country from the toilets. These were clean but I was slightly perturbed by the signs…

Bought water, collected hire car (which, for 7 people, is more of a van.)

Drive to hotel long. J map read, relatively little abuse from family. Hotel (Hilton, Nicosia) nice. Dinner by pool. Hotel has a glass elevator. Rooms nice. Learnt Greek for ‘thank you’ – ‘ef-harry-stom’.

Sunday

Late breakfast. Males very late. Nice range of food. I ate too much (meant to be losing weight.) Males didn’t drink beer.

Swam/read. Weather very hot (might be why airport was empty. Last year, in Malta, it rained one day. Hence D now booked us in near Sahara resort. Hoping it doesn’t rain this holiday…)

Drove to Nicosia Old Town. Van very wide for narrow streets. Parked (stressful) and walked around. R didn’t buy flipflops. Wandered, by chance, to border with Turkish controlled northern section. Saw sandbags and barbed wire and a young soldier who picked up his rifle as we approached. Decided not to try and chat (wasn’t sure my eight words of Turkish would make much of a conversation. Plus thought he might shoot me.)

The whole divided Cyprus thing seems strange to me. I missed it at the time, so will explain briefly: After the Brits left in about 1960 (Grandpa did his National Service here) the Cypriots were a mix of Greeks and Turks, who lived peacefully alongside each other. In 1974, according to the Turkish Cypriots, a few Greek Cypriots were pressing for the island to be joined to Greece. They staged a coup, backed by Greece, trying to overthrow the government by force. In order to protect the Turkish Cypriots, Turkey sent in their army, who marched down from the north. This history is told rather differently in the south, where they claim the Turkish army invaded Cyprus, unhindered by the UN, and have since refused to leave. They now state the north of their country is under Turkish occupation.

I can offer no insights as to which is the true opinion. Probably there is some truth on both sides and ordinary people, who just wanted to get on with their lives, were hurt on both sides. I can tell you that the border is odd. It looks temporary, like something students have erected as a dare overnight. But with armed guards (who also look like students.) The country is now divided, north and south, with what is called ‘the green line’ running through the middle. This is patrolled and fenced, with passport border controls and military and signs telling you not to take photographs or enter certain zones. It is odd. However, for a marriage, I can see that a green line has certain benefits. Tried to instigate a green line in hotel room (when in Cyprus…etc) It didn’t work. I clearly also need Turkish soldiers.

The old town in south Nicosia seemed a bit run down. Not sure if this is because we were seeing it mid summer (when sensible people are elsewhere.) There was a strange mix of very expensive shops right next to very cheap shops. We wandered round for a while, then ate dinner in a boiling hot kebab place (which said it had air conditioning, but if it did, they hadn’t turned it on!) D worried about the drink/driving laws half way through a Keo, which boys kindly finished for him. We were given tiny pots of bitter yogurt for dessert. Most of us passed them straight to S.

Went back to hotel and chatted in lobby. J played the grand piano (proud mummy moment.) D made up a quiz (which got a bit long to be honest.)

Tomorrow we plan to walk through border into Turkish controlled section. Why not sign up to follow my blog so you don’t miss it?

xxxxxxxxxx

Thank you for reading.

anneethompson.com

xxxxxx

Being an Author and the Rest of Life

Posted by anneethompson

First of all, thank you for reading my writing each week. I now have over 100 followers, which is very exciting! Most are people who I don’t know, from several different countries. Every time I’m notified that I have a new follower, someone who is happy for all my blog posts to be emailed to them, it means something special. Thank you everyone. I will do my best for you.

Bit of a moan now. Why, when you buy a bowl of potpourri and place a candle artistically for the downstairs loo, do people think that is good place to fling empty toilet rolls? Why? I have been ‘discussing’ this with my family for over a year now.

Also, can anyone explain to me WHY some people are so against Pokemon? When I look at Facebook, I regularly see posts saying, “If you feel stupid, just remember there are people out there catching imaginary Pokemon”, or other even more caustic comments. Why do some people feel the need to be so scathing? Personally, I cannot see the attraction of walking round looking for little cartoon creatures. But if others want to, why not? Son will meet his cousin, they’ll pop in and say hello to my Mum, then walk round town for a while, looking for Pokemon and often seeing someone else doing the same thing, which leads to a brief chat. It seems like a harmless, fairly sociable activity. Not one that appeals to me, but certainly not one I feel the need to be nasty about. I like reading psychological thrillers. These are an arrangement of words describing people who have never existed in places that are imaginary. Some people like watching telly – this is usually adults being filmed pretending they are other people doing things that have never happened. Does it matter? Relaxing and having fun is part of being human. Seems sad to me that some people need to criticise those who do it differently.

I would, however, like to abuse the creators of Tamagotchis. Have you seen them? They are ‘virtual pets’. They are aimed at children, we bought one for daughter when she was young and we lived in the US, and she was desperate for a pet. The screen had an image of a kitten. She could use the little buttons to feed it, play with it, give it medicine, etc. Above the kitten was a score, it told her if the kitten was happy or playful, or healthy. Her kitten was never happy. Or playful. Or healthy. Its score was always low. So little daughter spent hours trying to improve it, pressing buttons, watching it constantly. The score continued to drop. Husband decided to intervene, confident that he could find the right combination to create a high score. He couldn’t. After a few days of plummeting score, the image changed to a kitten lying on its back with an angel floating above it. Daughter was distraught. To her, this was a real pet and she had failed it big time. We did our best to comfort her and put the toy in a cupboard. (We were meant to reset it and let her try again, but she was so upset, I wasn’t sure we could cope with a repeat performance!) Not the most successful gift we ever bought.

There is no Lunch Club during August but that makes a very long time without seeing people for some of the members, so we try to have at least one meeting during that time. This year there’s an afternoon tea. I have made forty large scones – hope it’s enough. Also hope my family don’t discover them before I get them to the church freezer.

It is very strange being “an author”. People come and talk to me. This is mostly nice, though sometimes is difficult if I’m in a rush. So many people have told me about someone they know who I ought to write a book about! It’s funny, it seems to be the main thing that people want to tell me. Although I’ve only written fiction, I am obviously seen as the person who can write the life story of their brother or neighbour or best friend. Maybe one day I will – lots of people have certainly lived amazing lives.

Have you read my book yet? Next week I’ll give you an update on what I have learned about how larger shops select books to sell. Why not buy a copy – it’s only £7:95! I bet you can’t read the first two pages and not smile….

Thank you for reading.

Publishing a Book – Part Five

Posted by anneethompson

So, rather momentous – my book arrived (cue small fanfare of trumpets…) Now, I needed to find some more places to sell it. I drove to Bluewater.

Bluewater is not my favourite place. It has way too many shops. I took son for moral support. He was keen to come due to the possibility of Pokemon being more available than in our country lane (hard not to be proud of them sometimes, isn’t it…) Anyway, there we were, standing outside WH Smiths, me wondering if it would be better to just have a coffee and go home, him concentrating on a Pikachu (no idea how you spell these things.)

I went into WH Smith first. I was told the person I needed to speak to was on holiday. But they were nice, no one shouted at me or told me I was an idiot. Feeling slightly braver, I went into Waterstones. I learned lots of information, the most important being that selling through big shops takes time and is expensive. I will cover what I discovered in future blogs.

I decided that I would first launch my book locally and online. The bookshop in the next town was happy to sell it. I would try to find another couple of small shops who would be willing to stock it, and also sell it on Amazon. This was not as easy as it sounds…

First, the maze that is Amazon. My overall feeling about Amazon is that the process is slow and confusing, like trying to join a secret society. It is also expensive – you pay for everything. We first (note the ‘we’, I decided fairly early that this was beyond me, so Husband rescued me. But I will pretend that I helped) explored the ‘fulfilled by Amazon’ option. This would mean our customers would pay less in postage, and I could go on holiday or be ill without worrying about posting book orders. However, it was far from easy. You could email and ask for help, and they would phone back and advise you. But each advisor only dealt with one area, so they could only answer specific questions.

We wanted to know where exactly we had to deliver the books – if it was Scotland, we might find a different option. This information is a secret. If I ever discover it, I will tell you. I even accosted a poor Amazon delivery man and asked him where the depot was that stored the goods. He told me, “Oh, we’re not allowed to give information like that, I would get into trouble.” The plot thickens.

It was taking ages, plus would only cover five countries in Europe, so we decided in the meantime we would become Amazon sellers and post the books ourselves. We then went online to add the book – only to discover it was already listed! There it was, Hidden Faces by Anne E. Thompson, published by The Cobweb Press, with the ISBN number and a price. It was also, strangely, listed as a ‘mystery/thriller’ (which it isn’t, it is contemporary fiction.) We had more phone calls, but no one at Amazon could explain who had listed my book. Eventually we learned that when you buy an ISBN number, it is automatically listed on certain websites. Some shops also list it (though they won’t sell it, because I do not yet have a trading agreement with a wholesaler.You can ‘buy’ it, and checkout, they will then check their suppliers and notify you that it’s unavailable. They will not deal directly with either authors or publishers. I know, I tried.)

We eventually managed to add a photo, price, and the correct description. Then, when it appeared on the Amazon website (after about an hour) it had deleted all the paragraph breaks. No idea why. Not easy to rectify this (you might notice other book descriptions with no paragraph breaks – there are many – do not blame the author.) I am trying to remedy this but not sure if it is possible. Please be understanding if you look at my book on Amazon….

Approaching local shops was also not without problems. I drove to East Grinstead, which is slightly beyond my comfort zone. The town was having some sort of fair, half the roads were shut and people were everywhere. I parked in a side road and walked to the bookshop. The owner was on holiday. I took his contact details and walked back through the fair – only to find my car was not in the side road I thought it was. It was hot, I was tired, coming had achieved nothing, and now I had lost the car. I thought about phoning home, but they tend to be unsympathetic when I lose the car. Bought an ice cream. Wandered around and eventually found car. Drove home, having not sold a single book.

My own town was also difficult. There is no bookshop – my town has mainly charity shops, supermarkets and hairdressers (everyone has nice hair in my town. And secondhand clothes.) I tried a few ‘gift’ type shops and some stationers. No luck. One stationers even told me that he wouldn’t take a couple of books on ‘sale or return’ because “it would just be another thing to think about”! Honestly! Here I was, a local author, with advertising in place, asking if they could take a couple of books. They would earn a few pounds on every book sold, and I would collect any unsold books. No wonder small businesses are failing. I felt rather cross with my town. Until I found a very nice man in the newsagents at the top of the High Street. The shop is one of those open all hours, family owned, tiny shops, selling mainly newspapers and alcohol. He was willing to help and said he would display five books and a poster. Nice man. I hope it brings him some extra business.

I also popped into my local Shell garage and the Waitrose in my town (you can’t say I wasn’t trying.) Both were surprisingly helpful, but said it needed to go through head office. This seems to be the story with all chains of shops – however willing the manager is, the final decision is with head office. I took contact details and will let you know what happens.

Book selling is dominating at the moment (my family are coping.) I am also managing to stop the big fox that prowls at night from eating anything, I am trying to teach two of the stupidest chickens in the world that they are NOT ducks, and I am remembering to feed and clean out all the animals (I probably include my sons in this description.)

The book saga will continue…

Thanks for reading. Take care.

Anne

xxxxxxxx

Hidden faces by Anne E. Thompson.

Available locally (!) and from Amazon:

xxxxxxxxxxxx

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

anneethompson.com

xxxxx

Two Years…

Posted by anneethompson

Two years ago, July 2014, I had brain surgery. It was scary! It was also the end of lots of things. The end of a five year headache. The end of knowing I had a high chance of ‘sudden instant death’. The end of constant medical monitoring. The end of the brain tumour.

But not all good. It was also the end of being able to juggle several ideas all at once. The end of reliable memory. The end of any kind of mathematical ability. And, because the part dealing with anxiety was chopped through, the end of much of my confidence. The end, in fact, of me teaching.

I learned that, God still has a plan for us however broken we are. So yes, the end of teaching, but the beginning of writing. A blog grew into longer articles and finally, at last, a book. A real, solid, hope you enjoy it, book.

I hope you will read it, enjoy it, recommend it to a friend and buy one for your sister. Thank you. It means the world to me.

Hidden Faces is published by The Cobweb Press.

Available from Amazon:

Letter to a Sister – Lunch Club

Posted by anneethompson

How was your week? I cooked at Lunch Club. Usually I make a syrup sponge, but I thought I’d try something different this week, so I used tinned pears instead of syrup and added some ginger to the sponge mixture. I was a bit worried about cooking tinned pears – they might have turned to mush in the oven. It was okay. I thought it was a bit lacking in taste, tinned pears are a bit bland, but it wasn’t horrible, which is the main thing. I might try marmalade next week.

I cannot tell you how much I dislike cooking dinners for large numbers of people. However, Lunch Club is something special, and I always come home happier than when I went, even though it’s also really hard work (as you know – I believe you told me that if you ever agree to help again I should shoot you!) This week the ‘kitchen team’ were mainly men, ranging in age from about 65 to almost 80. That says it all really!

Each week we produce a healthy meal for forty people, and they pay £3:50. Some weeks we are an efficient productive team. Other weeks I feel like I have wandered on to the set of a Dad’s Army film.

I am by far the most stressed member of the team. Maybe when you have lived through a war and survived, it seems less important if the potatoes don’t cook on time. I am also the bossiest. The kitchen is inspected regularly for hygiene, so we have check lists of things to do. I am always nagging people to wash their hands ( even if they have just washed them when they used the loo, they have to wash them again when they reenter the kitchen.) They now tell me whenever I see them, “Yes Anne, I washed my hands.”

Whoever is cooking buys the food, then arrives at the church early to start preparing. Gradually the rest of the team arrive, some by bus, some via ‘Dial-a-Ride’ and some walk or drive. Everyone is pleased to see each other, so it’s quite a social time. It’s also the time when we hear about ailments. The team are mostly not young, so it’s not coughs and colds – they will quite casually mention that they “had a minor stroke in the week” or “had bit of a heart attack so had to call an ambulance.” I am always amazed how they seem to take in their stride, to carry on with life as soon as they feel well enough.

They also laugh a lot. At some point, before the ‘oldies’ arrive (who are actually no older than the team some weeks) we have a quick prayer. This is always more enthusiastic when I am the cook (need all the help we can get!) When I got there this week, one of the team had rolled up his trousers to show some injury, which led to a general discussion of scars until I called them to order and suggested that we should get on with praying. Slightly worried as to where the conversation might lead. Like I said, I am the bossy one.

This week one of the church members popped in with his little boy. The oldies love to see children. They are, I have noticed, quite competitive with how many great-grandchildren they have. I can’t really chat to them when I’m cooking (too busy trying to not burn anything.) But when I’m not the actual cook, I love listening to them, they have so many tales about growing up during the war, living in a world that has changed so much.

I love how enthusiastic they still are, how they will arrive excited that dog-racing has started in the next town, or there’s a new club they can join, or even a new knitting pattern has arrived. Their obvious enjoyment of life makes me realise that growing old doesn’t have to be scary, there are still deep friendships and loud laughter. Especially laughter. Friday lunch times are always some of the happiest, and most exhausting, hours of my week.

Take care,
Love, Anne x

PS. Going on a trip to Poland. Never been there before.

Why not sign up to follow my blog? Then you won’t miss reading about my trip!

xxxxxxxxxx

Thank you for reading.

anneethompson.com

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Letter to a Sister – Bruce Springsteen

Posted by anneethompson

How was your week? Mine was busy, culminating in watching Bruce Springsteen at Wembley.

Now, I don’t know about you, but I haven’t actually been to many concerts. Maybe something to do with being Minister’s kids, or perhaps we were just incredibly sheltered growing up (those two are not mutually exclusive, of course!) But whatever the reason, I seem to have missed out on a lot of the ‘basic teenage stuff’ that most people experience. My only concerts prior to meeting Husband were at Christian music festivals or Cliff Richard (no comments please…)

So, when Husband (who had a relatively ‘normal’ upbringing) suggested we go to watch Bruce Springsteen, I was somewhat fuzzy as to who that actually was. Husband made me listen to a CD. I commented it was a pity he’d had a sore throat when recording it. Husband raised eye-brows at my ignorance. We went to the concert.

Arrived at Wembley tube station and got directed to stadium. There were lots of men shouting, asking if anyone wanted to sell tickets. As we neared the stadium, there were other men shouting, asking if anyone wanted to buy a ticket. I thought it would be helpful to tell buying men about the selling men we had seen earlier – husband told me to just keep walking.

Entered stadium. Security involved removing lids from our water bottles. This seemed wrong, I wondered if the security men had been confused by their instructions – I failed to see how bottle lids could be a danger to public safety. Husband informed me it was to increase sales of the stadium’s drinks, and to just keep walking.

Found our seats. They were not perhaps the best seats. I was glad I didn’t suffer too badly from vertigo and wished I had brought my binoculars. Or a telescope. We looked down over a sea of grey heads. We weren’t the oldest people in the audience….

The concert started only slightly later than scheduled. It was plenty loud enough. Unfortunately, the person responsible for switching on the big screens forgot for the first song. We could hear it, and see indiscernible people the size of ants moving on the stage. They then switched on the screens, which was better, but we could only see Bruce, not the band. It would’ve been so much better if they had used the big screens above the stage, so those of us in the cheap seats could’ve seen the whole stage enlarged. It was hard to ‘catch the atmosphere’.

Having said that, Bruce Springsteen is undoubtedly a talented performer. He had lots of audience participation, sang for hours, involved a whole range of musicians. Most of the audience knew all his songs and sang along. The people standing on the pitch were dancing, some of them completely absorbed in the music, oblivious to the staff pushing wheelie bins around and selling food and drink. And no one suffered a coronary or stroke. The woman in front of us was taking photos of the screens on her mobile – one for each song. Each one looked identical to me. But you could see that for many, it was a special occasion, something they had looked forward to. It was rather nice.

From your sister – who is perhaps not exactly a ‘rocker’ but who quite likes being with people who are..

Take care,
Love Anne

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thank you for reading.

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

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

You can read my sister’s letter at:

http://ruthdalyauthor.blogspot.co.uk/2016/06/hiring-car-letters-to-sister.html

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Letter to a Sister – Football Quiz

Posted by anneethompson

We organised a Football Quiz. Not really my kind of event, but apparently there are several people who enjoy football, so we hoped some ‘non church’ people might come and realise that we’re not too scary after all. (I was going to write “not too odd”, but I thought that might be stretching things a bit!)

So, we asked our friend who is a professional footballer if he would come (do you say ‘plays’ football if someone does it professionally? Not sure, feels like wrong verb) We persuaded brother he would like to make up some questions and got some fliers printed up. We held it in the church hall, people registered their teams online in advance and brought their own snacks and drinks. We didn’t charge, but there were collecting tubs for donations to Tearfund.

It was a good event. This was partly because brother did an actually rather brilliant quiz and partly because it seems quite a few people are rather keen to meet footballer friend (Julian Speroni, who plays in goal for Crystal Palace FC.) Husband was on hand to sort logistics, Minister did the introducing and interviewing Julian bit and I dutifully hovered to help where needed. (I wouldn’t exactly say that football is possibly the most boring game ever – but I did take a book to read….)

When we arrived at church, it had been repainted and all the internal signs had been removed. Might have caused confusion toilet wise. We have three toilets at our church, with a middle one for people wanting to change babies’ nappies or needing disabled supports. I therefore made three signs. Decided to label them ‘Ladies’, Gents’ and ‘Undecided’. Was slightly worried I might forget to move them before the service on Sunday (some church members don’t always get my humour) but it was fine.

Mum had advertised the event for us, and some of her friends made a team. They recognised me and asked which person was brother. I pointed to Julian (he’s better looking than brother, thought it might improve our general family impression.) They just looked confused, so I think they knew I was lying.

After the quiz, Julian was interviewed, then fielded questions from the audience (about his salary, place on the team and retirement plans. People didn’t hold back! ) His talk was good (didn’t read my book for that bit.) He talked about training in Argentina and sending a video of his playing to other teams. He was offered a place in Dundee, so moved over. He said that learning English was a challenge, with a Scottish teacher, and Italian and Chinese fellow students to practise conversation with!

He also talked about how he attended an Alpha course, how he realised that God is real and has a plan for his life. Even professional footballers need God.

I guess that’s the whole point really. To me, Julian is ‘just a bloke’, it seems very strange that people would want his autograph or to shake his hand. God sees past all that, he knows that Julian is ‘just a bloke’ too, one that he loves and wants to help and give direction for his life. Just like us, we are ‘just people’ too, underneath all our make-up and talents and insecurities. We need God too.

The quiz had a winning team. They won a football shirt, signed by all the players. Never mind, if they wash it on a hot wash it will probably come clean again.

Have a good week,
Take care,
Love, Anne x

xxxxxxxx

Thank you for reading.

If you enjoyed reading this, why not sign up to follow my blog?
Then you will receive all my posts by email – usually one or two per week.

anneethompson.com

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Final Day in Argentina – A Letter

Posted by anneethompson

Today was our last day. We paid for a tour out of the city, booked through the hotel with ‘Signature Tours’ (www.signaturetours.com.ar) – it was brilliant. We wanted to see La pampas, the cattle rearing plains of Argentina. As it’s ‘low season’ it was just the two of us and a man in his car. He drove us out of the city, explaining things about the buildings as we passed them, so we started to understand a little more about Argentina. He then took us to a town and a ranch, introducing us to various people and showing us different places. It was all very friendly, it felt more like an acquaintance introducing us to his friends than a paid tour guide. It was also nice because, unlike on other tours we have done, we weren’t taken somewhere random (like a jade factory) and then left in awkward silence while the owner waits for us to buy something that we don’t really want. This guide didn’t even take us into the shop part of the places we visited, he wanted to show us things, not sell us things.

As we left Buenos Aires, we passed some poorer areas, they looked like the favelas we saw in Brazil, though maybe not quite as poor. Marcello told us that they were mostly occupied by immigrants from Peru, Paraguay, Chile. He said they work hard, often in construction, and are gradually moving to different areas. I asked if the homeless people that we saw on the streets were also immigrants, but he said that no, they were probably Argentinians. Economics are very hard here, due to the very high inflation. Everyone is hopeful that the newly elected government can turn things around in the next couple of years.

Marcello also told us about the gauchos that we’d be seeing. They are mainly men who work with cattle. They wear either hats (cowboy hats) or berets. The ranches, which are called “estancia” breed cattle, plus horses for working, polo and racing.

We went to the little town of San Antonio Areco. My favourite bit was the gaucho bars, I felt like I had walked into a cowboy film. The are still used today, though they’ve preserved the historical features. There was a post outside, for tying up the horses. Inside, the walls were shelved to the ceiling and full of ancient bottles of liquor, soap, shoes, tins of tea – all the things that the gauchos would have come into town to buy. The counter used to have bars all along it, with little windows for the drinks to be passed through, a bit like the railings or glass screens that you get in banks and post-offices today. This was to protect the staff and stock from the rowdy gauchos in an age when alcohol was more expensive. Is this where the term ‘bar’ originates from? (Tell me if you know!) The floors were tiled, there were ceiling fans and even an old fashioned til. You could so imagine a cowboy walking in and shooting all the bottles.

We also saw silver smiths at work. They make lots of horse related things – cups for polo matches, silver versions of the things that gauchos carry, horse ornaments. The gauchos carry knives (you can buy them in silver sheaves) and boleadoras. These were originally stones, wrapped in leather at the end of ropes. The gauchos would throw them, lasso style, at the legs of ostriches, to catch them. You can now buy silver versions, the stones in leather replaced with ornate silver balls. The work with silver was an incredibly slow, careful process. The designs were beautiful, real works of art. You would have to be both very artistic and very patient to do their job.

We saw a cheese and meat shop. The locals go there after work, for a platter of nibbles and a drink and chat (there were tables at the back.)

We saw a chocolate shop. They make the chocolate themselves from cacao, so we saw the beans and husks – which were much bigger than I expected, almost the size of coconuts. The bean is inside and they heat it first, to separate the cacao and the butter (which is white, but hard – more like chalk than butter.) They then add milk and sugar to make the chocolate. I would’ve liked to watch the process with the bean, but we weren’t taken to see that bit, we could only watch them work with the melted chocolate, through a glass panel.

A traditional drink in Argentina, called ‘mate’ (pronounced ‘mah-tae’). The straws have a filter and people walk around drinking it. It’s a herb, like a bitter tea.

The silversmith’s work bench and the cheese shop

A cacao bean next to the husk.

We then went to the ranch. This letter is getting a bit long, plus I want to tell you a little about the past in Argentina, the regimes and “The Disappeared”, so I’ll finish now and write again tomorrow.

Take care,
Anne x

Thank you for reading.

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

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A Day in Uruguay – A Letter to my Sister

Posted by anneethompson

Hi, how are you today? Yesterday we went to Uruguay for the day (as you do…)

We bought the boat tickets online, which was a bit confusing as we knew there were two boats – one which takes an hour and one which takes three hours – but the timetable and prices didn’t seem to correspond. Our Spanish was only almost good enough. Managed it eventually. We paid the equivalent of £75 each for day return tickets.

Walked to the boat terminal through a freezing cold city. I wish I’d packed my big coat. We went through passport control and immigration, then sat in a large waiting room for an hour. I now have extra stamps in my passport. At one window the Argentinian official gave the exit stamp, then you shuffle along to the next window, where an Uruguayan official gives you an entry stamp. Kinda cool.

The ferry was clean and comfortable. I needed to use the loo on board and was expecting the usual stinky boat toilet, but it was spotless, very clean. The gang plank in Uruguay was a bit of a challenge for some of the elderly passengers, so Husband did his gentleman bit and helped a few old ladies (while I stood ready with my camera in case they fell in the water. No, not really!)

We walked straight out the ferry terminal, turned right at the first cross roads, walked about ten minutes and arrived in the old town. Very easy, despite Husband telling me that none of the road names matched his map. (There were signs showing the way, we didn’t need a map.)

The old town was brilliant, it felt like being in the Caribbean (but a lot colder. May is Winter.) There was water lapping on the shore, lots of greenery, cobbled streets, old buildings. Perfect.

We sat in a street cafe in Colonia and drank cappuccinos sprinkled with cinnamon. Music from the shop next door, dappled sunlight through the trees, vintage cars driving past. Double perfect.

There were also lots of stray dogs. Not so perfect. But they seemed mostly well fed and healthy, so we avoided them in case they were rabid, but they weren’t threatening.

The vintage cars seem to mainly advertise the buildings they are parked outside. There were lots of them. Colonia is a world heritage site, so I’m not sure what was ‘real’ and what was for tourists. It was nice though, and very peaceful.

There was an old church, with white-washed stone walls, icons and echoes. Outside was a square with ruins, noisy birds in the palm trees, sunshine and the ever constant sound of waves lapping. Everywhere smells of wood charcoal.

We ate lunch in a little Bistro facing the water. There were signs up saying you should book ahead, I think it gets very busy here at weekends and in the summer. It was very clean and the food was nice:

Charco, Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay. (info@charcohotel.com)

The prices here are all in Uruguayan Pesos, Argentinian Pesos and US dollars. Or you can pay with credit cards. I wasn’t sure if the language was Spanish or Portuguese (it’s Spanish) but as both sound exactly the same when I speak them, it didn’t make too much difference. Most people spoke at least a little English, some were fluent.

The girl who served us in the cafe was completely fluent in English, she could calculate prices in three different currencies, she was well presented and clearly intelligent. Plus, the cleanliness of the country is much better than England. It was the same when we went to Brazil; I expected small rural cafes and public toilets to have slightly dodgy hygiene, but they were always scrupulously clean. Public toilets in England are usually disgusting. I think travel is good for me, it challenges my preconceived ideas. The world is smaller than I think, lots of countries do things better than we do.

We strolled some more. I loved being near the coast. Lots of green plant and seed pods had washed ashore, so we argued for a while as to if it was sea weed or not. Never found out. (If you know, tell me!)

Looked in a couple of gift shops and I bought a cushion cover for my collection. It’s made of cow hide, which seemed very appropriate as they raise a lot of cows in Uruguay, on the plains that join Argentina.

Got the ferry back to Argentina. A really lovely day, one of the nicest trips we’ve had. If ever you come here, you should definitely plan to go to Uruguay. You would love it, it’s so pretty, sort of lost in time. Tomorrow we might visit La Pampas, which is the grass plains in Argentina, where the cowboys are. I’ll let you know.

Hope your week is going well.
Take care,
Love, Anne x

xxxxxxx

Thank you for reading.
If you enjoyed this, why not sign up to follow my blog?
anneethompson.com

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

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

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: