Category Archives: Travel 2011

All I want for Xmas is 2km of vin chaud please

Posted on by
Reply

When: 10/12/2011

Where: Brussels, Belgium

Stayed: Hotel Carrefour De L’Europe

Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus…actually I think that might be Justin wheeling his bag of newly purchased Belgian beers – looking every bit like all his christmas’ have come at once. Brussels promised to get us into the Chrissy spirit – and it delivered all things sparkly and tinsel related that we could hope for. I’d heard a lot about the Christmas markets in Europe and being a Chrissy fiend from way back, my expectations were very high.

We were welcomed into Brussels by an impressive light display staged in Grand Place. Set to an array of dramatic tunes, the Electrabel Lights show treated us to a spectacular arrangement of light beamed onto the surrounding buildings. With massive passages of light shooting straight up into the black sky with a winking lone star, it was hard not to feel a little sentimental about Chrissy. Snowflakes, criss crosses, dots, lace-like patterns and flashes of rainbow colors forced us to grin and bear the pain in our necks from tilting our heads skyward. The perfect introduction to Brussels.

Taking some local advice we navigated our way out of tourist ville to a modern looking Belgium restaurant called Viva M’Boma. Wow goes a little way towards describing the meal we had. Using all parts of the animal, this restaurant catered for the inner carnivore in all of us. Between us, our meals spanned horse, duck, pig, beef and chicken. Thank god for the waitress who very patiently explained the complicated menu in English – think we could probably be forgiven for not knowing the french translation for cow udder and pig testicle though…?

Our hotel was located on Grassmarkt street which was in a cracking location, being only a block back from the Grand Place. Being able to see the Grand Place from our hotel window gives you an idea as to how close to the action we were. The only downside being the frequency of car horns going off from around 2am onwards. Ahhh gotta love the liberal use of a car horn in the wee hours of the morning.

Saturday was a big day where we made it our business to engross ourselves in the local culture. We steadily made our way around a few of the local beer haunts including Moeder Lambic before moseying across town to the Christmas markets. Belgian beers and Vin Chaud (try it with Amaretto – who knew!) followed by the predictable cross section of Bratwurst, waffles and crepes. Our tummy’s might’ve been in turmoil but with over 2km of gluwhein, there was no slowing down.


The markets delivered stalls of handmade toys and clothing, meats, cheeses, bratwurst and a plethora of other consumable goodies. Fairy lights adorned the roof tops of the chalet-like stalls and paved a bustling pathway to a ferris wheel, standing grandly at the half way point. Coming from a family where I took (and still do!) great pride in decorating the house head to toe in tinsel and homemade tree decorations that only a mother could love, this was as good as it gets for me. Hurrah! Mulled wine was a big feature of the markets and of course we did our bit in supporting local business.

Our trip to Brussels wouldn’t have been complete without a comic strip tour of city. Feeling slightly dusty, Greg expertly navigated his old local hood and highlighted striking walls of comic strips, hidden in the nooks and cranny’s of the streets. An intriguing way of bringing to life the city’s well earned claim to fame for comic creation. Great stuff.

We farewelled Brussels in a fitting manor. A final beer in Delerium cafe – The World Guinness book of records beer hall with over 2000 beers on offer – followed by a quick dash to the chocolatier and beer supermarket. As they say ‘when in Rome…’
Chocker block full and slightly hungover but definitely feeling the magic of Christmas in our bellies, we packed ourselves off for the return journey.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Just a touch, a touch of paradise…

Posted on by
Reply

When: 18/11/2011

Where: Bellagio, Italy

Stayed: Borgo Le Terraze

La perla del Lago di Como… couldn’t agree more! Bellagio certainly lived up to the claim, being every bit the jewel of Lake Como.
Sitting at the intersection of the three branches of Lake Como, Bellagio separates the lake’s two southern arms. The result is some cracking views out to the Alps and expansive views down the waterways taking in numerous lakeside villages. It was almost impossible to take a bad photo in Bellagio, the scenery was draw dropping. The Autumn colors added to the spectacle with splashes of orange and gold in amongst the cobblestone streets of the village. Coupled with the sense of calm and peace massive expanses of water always seem to bring, Bellagio was simply divine. We had to wonder at times whether we’d stepped onto a canvas because surely this wasn’t real?!

For all it’s beauty, the drive up to Bellagio was….let’s call it, ‘interesting.’ It’s no secret that Italians like to drive fast cars fast. What we didn’t know is that absolutely no allowance was made for narrow roads with overhanging cliffs that are barely wide enough to fit a single car. Yep, you can imagine how it played out on the lakeside road to Bellagio. Despite being the most incredible scenery we’ve seen since visiting Lake Wannaka in NZ, we spent approx 60mins stressed out of our heads, sucking in our stomaches and leaning to the side of the car as we narrowly missed the oncoming traffic that refused to move over. Apparently if you’re local, there’s really no need to drive on your side. ‘No male!’

Inevitably our frustration at staring death in the face on every corner translated into some serious stress. After several heated exchanges debating whether driving or being a passenger was worse, and a close call on a key throwing incident – a relationship saving roadside stop and coffee ensued. Breathe it out kids.

Our accommodation, Borgo Le Terrazze, (village terraces) was situated just outside Bellagio with the most spectacular views you can imagine. Lying on the bed gazing out the window was like staring at a painting. Pulling the curtains back in the morning with the mist starting to lift off the lake, a loan ferry motoring across the water and the mountains looming in the background was simply captivating. It’s hard to describe Bellagio without sounding contrived but it really was just a little slice of Italian heaven. Easy to see why the likes of George Clooney chose Lake Como to set up a home away from home!

With very few people around, we pretty much had free run of the restaurants, wine bars and coffee shops that were still open outside of peak season. True to form, we ate pizza and pasta and drank local wines from one end of the town to the other. All in the name of supporting local business of course! Aperitivo et al provided so many free aperitifs with our drinks that we felt the need to keep checking whether a food order had been placed by mistake. Salami, olives, chips, toasted cheese thingys, 4 different types of risotto – unheard of generosity! Salice Blu was exceptional and the young chef Luigi, blew us away with his personalized approach to taking orders and creating masterpieces from local produce.

It would be very easy to spend weeks moseying from one town to the next around Lake Como. A ferry ride to Menaggio that stopped at Verenna on the way gave us a glimpse into the pockets of lovely little villages that grace the lake. You might come home with ill fitting pants due to the volume of food, and a migraine from the drive up there but even the most cynical tourist couldn’t deny the sense of peace and wonder that Bellagio brings over it’s guests.

 

 

 

 

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Joining the Brits abroad

Posted on by
Reply

When: 20/10/2011

Where: Alicante, Spain

Stayed: AC Hotel Alicante, Marriot

For us, the town of Alicante felt a bit like receiving only the bottom half of a muffin to eat. Probably sounds a tad harsh, but we couldn’t help but feel like some of the best parts of the Spanish culture had disappeared, leaving in its place a dated and slightly over-commercialised town that was set up to cater for Brits abroad (and unsuspecting Aussies…). The facade in the town was run down in parts and much of the advertising looked like a throw back to the 90’s. After the pristine streets of Stockholm, Alicante looked like it was in desperate need of a good scrubbing behind the ears and there was a faint scent of forlornness about the place. However the old town still retained some of it’s quaint charm with cobblestone streets and enough alfresco dining to keep even the most persistent restaurant hopper interested. The beach was clearly the hero of the town with red and shiny tourists giving their skin a good beating before heading home. After all, if you’re not sunburnt you haven’t really had a holiday…

The unexpected welcoming committee set an interesting tone for the trip. After the initial shock at seeing 4 prostitutes strutting their stuff out the front of our hotel, we moved to a state of amusement followed by awe at the impressive tone of the bare gluteus maximus we had a clear view of. Was it a man or woman? Who cares, props for keeping it in such great shape and having the guts to go pant less on a main road!

The hotel we stayed in came complete with all the mod cons you’d expect from a new hotel that specialized in the corporate crowd. Slightly snooty staff, over-priced drinks, hallways so dark you can’t see your nose and a phone requiring an operating manual to call reception. Gotta love a modern hotel. All was forgiven however thanks to the incredible breakfast spread and roof top pool and bar which became our stomping ground for the next 3 days. This turned out to be a saviour of sorts given the proximity of the hotel to the rest of the action. The reviews on trip advisor assured us the location was spot on for town and beach access – all very accurate; IF you had a car. Not sure what’s more disappointing – the location of the hotel or the truth to the rumors that Trip Advisor is unreliable…

In our usual ‘we’re not really tourists’ style, we made it our business to find the little local gems to eat and drink at. The first night we fought gallantly against the tide of restaurant owners trying to pull us into their haunts. By following the dolcit tones of a local, we discovered a hole in the wall tapas eatery that blew us away – Cerveceria Sento. Patatas Bravas, lamb burgers, balsamic chicken and meat straight off the hock – all very simple but oh so very good. We failed miserably on the second night as we succumbed to the bright lights and sales pitch of a young spaniard in what turned out to be a tourist trap. The english menus and the hawkers pacing up and down the footpath should have been warning enough to steer clear. We were punished accordingly with paella that was barely edible and a bill that was twice the price of our meal the previous night. Oh how we continue to learn the same lessons when travelling…
Despite our hit and misses on the eating front, Carrer De Castanos provided a welcome plethora of drinking holes each night. The generosity of ‘Jim’s’ tapas with the G&T and beers kept us coming back for more. This is the Spain we grew to love last time around!

Some very welcome sunshine, a good book, a bar on hand for afternoon beers and a refreshing pool on our doorstep rounded out our trip to Alicante. Despite some of our reservations about the town and volume of tourists, Alicante provided just what the doctor ordered for us at this point in the year – relaxation.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Land of the beautiful, clean, safe and expensive

Posted on by
Reply
When: 19/08/2011
Where: Stockholm, Sweden
Stayed: Park Inn, Hammarby

Before going to Stockholm, I pictured the city being full of blue eyes and blonde hair. In reality, add to that bronzed, fit bodies with legs up to the heavens and you have a pretty accurate picture of the general population. People watching was a premium experience with the sidewalk doubling as a catwalk as the locals strutted their stuff. We couldn’t work out whether there’d been a huge amount of incest that had taken place or people simply looked very similar. Justin astutely pointed out that ‘Sweden’s next top model’ would be extremely competitive and probably a little unfair to contestants considering the questionable calibre in other countries. Yep we dealt with all the big issues on this trip.
We stayed in a part of Stockholm called Sodra Hammarby-hamnen which was south of the central part of the city. Turns out this was quite a new area, not unlike the Docklands in Melbourne where everything is shiny and new but you could shoot a cannon through the area and not hit anyone. Unfortunately it felt a bit like death by apartment with very little atmosphere. Nevertheless, city access using Stockholms god sent transport system was very easy. As most people know, Stockholm is composed of 14 islands with around 30% of the city being made up of waterways. Needless to say, the best way to see Stockholm is by boat. Being out on the water gave a real sense of just how beautiful the city is.
Cruising between the islands of the archipelago and gaping at the huge summer houses that adorn the islands made us seriously question whether it would be feasible to relocate our lives. We were quickly brought back to reality by the tour guide who informed us that due to the ice in Winter (which can spread as wide as 2.5 miles!), quite often the only way to get around is by helicopter.

Apparently the island inhabitants have ‘the right’ to call for a helicopter should they need transport.
A very foreign concept to us Aussies that’s for sure. 
Back on land and we discovered just how different each part of Stockholm is. Gamla Stan (old town) with its cobbled streets, over priced restaurants and souvenirs, was a magnet for the sensible shoe wearing tourist. Djurgarden, home to a few of the big museums such as Vasamuseet and Nordiska museet ,was very pretty but also crawling with camera bearing visitors. We almost added ourselves to the roll call at Vasamuseet where the oldest ship in history is on display; apparently it sailed for only 20mins before sinking back in the 16th century. However we left skid marks on the ground in our haste to get away once we saw the length of the queue. We decided to ‘get ourselves some culture’ at a local bar instead.

The suburb of Ostermalm appeared to be more of a local haunt with designer stores, upmarket cafes, some fantastic restaurants and people wearing far more inappropriate footwear (sure sign of locals). We set up camp in Nya Lydmar, a flashy hotel bar, one rainy afternoon and rubbed shoulders with some glamorous locals over a couple of obscenely expensive glasses of wine. Drinking outside our means we shortly hot-footed it back to Sodermalm which has more of a Bohemian feel to it – and doesn’t  give you heart palpitations every time the bill arrives. After receiving some local advice from a friend of my brothers (Jo), we bar hopped our way around this area – Sodra Bar and Och himlen darbill bar to name a few. For dinner we emptied our pockets at a local favourite – Hjordis.

All in all we declared Stockholm in the top 2 of all time favourite cities. If you can suck up the exorbitant prices – the surprisingly friendly people, extraordinarily beautiful, safe and clean city and sensational food are well worth the re-mortgage on your house.

Stockholm top ten:

1.Fully expect to feel like the ugliest person on the street
2.Don’t dilly dally because the public transport timing is incredibly precise and won’t wait
3.Don’t expect to find Swedish food in Stockholm – apparently the Swedes don’t really eat it
4.Some of the Swedes speak better English than we do; pack your best English so you don’t put yourself (and our country) to shame
5.Play spot the rubbish on the street and you’ll be pretty bored
6.Ostermalm and Sodermalm provide the best catwalks
7.Expect to feel like you’ve been robbed on return
8.There are several bars masquerading as ‘Sky Bars’ in Stockholm – beware
9.Unlike London, when the forecast says rain, it’s not kidding so pack your umbrella
10.Unlike London, there’s no need to padlock your handbag to your body in Stockholm

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Scoping out retirement options in Provence

Posted on by
Reply
When: 19/07/2011
Where: Provence, France
Stayed: Cote Provence, Le Thor

Thanks to a couple of good movies and outstanding reviews from friends, our expectations for Provence were unreasonably high. I’m happy to report (and somewhat relieved) that we were not disappointed.Our accommodation was based in the Vaucluse region of France – about an hour north of Marseille and 30mins East of Avignon in a small town called Le Thor. Without a ‘Sat Nav’ in our hire car, we were relying on the traditional methods of reading maps to navigate our way from the airport. (What?!) Challenging at the best of times, but throw in a foreign language and the right hand side of the road and things start to get very interesting. Driving through acres of orchards, lavender fields, vines and corn fields – we wondered if we were lost on the set of a french movie. Fortunately we discovered our bed and breakfast, ‘Cote Provence’, sitting like a terracotta beacon in amongst the vineyards. With crickets chirping in the background, two little toy dogs running up to greet us, a pool peaking out from beside the house and our host (Mireille) calling out ‘bonjour’ we instantly relaxed knowing this was home base for the next 4 days. The 18th century house was typically provencal, with shutters over the windows, dark pink and orange façade, beautiful large floor tiles, exquisite gardens and restored antique furniture. Bunches of lavender lay all over the house and I tried in vein not to recall the movie which claimed lavender is used in Provence to keep out the scorpions…
First stop in Provence was

 L’isle sur-la-sorgue, also known as ‘Little Venice’ due to the centre of town sitting within the branches of the river. The main village was a 15min drive from our digs, and was where we proceeded to gorge ourselves on Vaucluse wines and produce for the next few days. Tempting you riverside and then winding through the narrow streets, the local market boasts the most incredible array of colors and smells. Olive oils, tapenades, cheeses, olives, dried fruit and charcuterie – the choices were overwhelming. Inevitably we got overexcited and spent enough to sustain the local economy for the next month. Oh but it was worth it! As Justin aptly put it, ‘you’re best to lose 5kg before arriving in Provence because that way you only have to lose 10kg when you return home’. Yep, the jeans are cutting into my tummy as I write this.
The day after we arrived in Provence happened to be Bastille day. As part of the celebrations in L’isle sur-la-sorgue we were treated to the sights and sounds of the local marching band; complete with resident beauty queen and baton twirling girls. After observing with interest for 10mins or so we declared the hiring policy of the group to be quite ‘diverse’. Unfortunately none of the participants looked to be particularly happy about having to cut laps of the town so we’re not too sure whether there was also a mandatory component to the policy?!

You would be forgiven for thinking the phrase ‘Most beautiful village in France’ was seriously overused in Provence. It appears in the description of so many towns that you begin to wonder whether there’s been a misprint in the tourist brochure or the editor was just a bit lazy. That is of course until you start personally working your way through each of the villages…
Gordes, a village comprising drystone architecture and perched on the side of a towering hill was breathtaking. Roussillon, with its ochre washed façades exhibiting a brilliant spectrum of orange and red colours, surely has been cut out of canvas and glued in amongst the greenery of the surrounding orchards. Menerbes, a quiet and somewhat deserted village stands majestically and begs you to sit and have a wine gazing out over the vineyards below. And Fontaine-de-Vaucluse where the spring originates, leads to the meandering river which weaves itself between the houses. All incredibly beautiful, quite unique and yet unmistakably Provencal. It would be very easy to spend a month driving from town to town across southern France admiring the countryside – except for the stress associated with avoiding the oncoming traffic on the narrow roads. Apparently not everyone feels inclined to slow down and move over when faced with the prospect of a head on collision!

As per usual, the language barrier provided some serious comedy value for us. Our host at Cote Provence spoke excellent English however she was 1 of probably 10 people in the entire town that did. Sitting at breakfast with a French couple and running out of conversation after ‘bonjour’ made for a slightly uncomfortable start to the day. We spent the next 20mins stealing smiles between us and trying to pretend that this was a completely normal situation to be in. I desperately wanted to ask the couple about their croissant eating technique and how they managed to eat the pastry without spilling a single crumb. Instead I had to resort to peeking out the corner of my eye to watch the tearing / wrist action incognito. Not sure why, but Justin and I felt the need to speak in whispers around the house as a result. Perhaps to try and mask the fact that we knew such little french and were firmly entrenched in the category of ignorant tourists – a title we have carried like a burden for the last few trips. A local put it succinctly by responding to my question of ‘parlez-vous anglais?’ with ‘no, parlez- vous francais?’. Fair enough too.

Having said that, it’s amazing how long you can carry on a conversation just by observing facial expressions and body language and by throwing in the odd ‘oui’ and ‘merci’. That is until you’re required to initiate the conversation. Case in point – sitting at a wine bar full of locals, edgy house music in the background, plate of charcuterie to nibble on; we practically blended in!. Until our glasses ran dry and we were required to order another round. (Cue the dramatic music.) To Justin’s credit he had a stab at speaking French – unfortunately he ran out of vocab after the opening “Excusez-moi….a….un….one of the same please”. Fortunately the barman spoke significantly better English than we spoke French!

After 4 days of relaxing by the pool, pounding the windy roads amongst the orchards, eating enough cheese and bread to rival a small community, and discussing whether it was feasible to retire in our 30’s, we packed up and headed for the airport. Merci and au revoir Provence…for now at least.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Stressing about relaxing in the Cotswolds

Posted on by
Reply
When: 05/07/2011
Where: Chipping Camden, Cotswolds, England
Stayed: Cotswold House, Chipping Camden
Ok, so I know this is where I’m supposed to talk about how relaxing, quiet and picturesque the Cotswolds are. How the fresh crisp country air is rejuvenating, the cottages and cobble stone streets are straight out of an oldy worldy english movie and how the tea rooms are so quaint that you feel as though you’re at your Grandma’s pad. Yep, the Cotswolds are all those things and more but I’m ashamed to say that Justin and I spent a lot of the time waiting for something to happen.
We went from craving peace and quiet after feeling suffocated in London, to pacing the pavements looking for some action. The sad state of affairs is this – after years of city living, we appear to have evolved into beings who are incapable of relaxation.After swinging by Cheltenham for a homemade lunch of sandwiches and tea, popping into Broadway for scones and tea and expoloring the streets of Chipping Campden before having yet another cup of tea we promptly declared ourselves ‘tea-d out’. Time for a beer. We spent the next hour stalking people using our fail safe ‘follow the locals and you’ll find the best drinking spot’. Unfortunately the local demographic was a little removed from our age group and we ended up doing circle work in the streets, dangerously close to a tea room. We finally settled in a beer garden which backed onto a car park just opposite our hotel – it was basically empty but had no tea in sight so we were happy. With very little people watching to keep us interested we then scoped out the local restaurants for an early dinner. As always, a good bottle of red and copious amounts of food did the trick.

A trip to Stratford Upon Avon on the way home the following day rounded out our trip to the Cotswolds. Not sure what I was expecting to find in Shakespeare land but a carnival with all walks of life crawling the river banks wasn’t part of the picture. A child with his pants down, doing his business on the main street was the deal breaker. Gagging, we fled back to the car.

I feel slightly jaded that we’re unable to really rave about our trip to the Cotswolds. Perhaps the fact that we felt under pressure to come back feeling relaxed didn’t help. The underlying pulse of ‘in the Cotswolds you must relax, must relax, must relax’ of course has the opposite effect. Ah, let’s face it, relaxation will never be a strong suit of mine.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Step aside Kate and Wills

Posted on by
Reply

When: 25/04/2011

Where: Menai Bridge, Wales

Stayed: Plas Cadnant

 

Glenn and Sara’s wedding gave us 4 days of the ‘wow’ factor. In addition to their incredible wedding, every corner we turned in Menai Bridge, Bangor and then Conwy provided another take on the spectacular Welsh country side. I instantly felt my shoulders drop and the heavy London air exhale from my lungs as I stepped off the train in Menai Bridge. No wonder Kate and Wills chose this area to set up home!

Plas Cadnant Estate was where we stayed for the duration of our trip. What had been an abandoned, dilapidated run down old house only 16 years ago has now been converted into a warm and friendly bed and breakfast. Complete with Hogwarts style dining room, open fire and commercial size kitchen; the 12 of us staying there settled in beautifully. Little did we know on arrival that the house was nothing compared with the garden on the estate that surrounded it. So pristine were the surroundings that we kept our eyes open for the gardener with the nail scissors who was surely responsible for such precision!

Northern Wales provided the perfect setting for Glenn and Sara’s wedding and the weather god turned his smile on full beam for the big day. Who would’ve thought most of the Australian contingent would go home sunburnt from Wales?!  Apparently this kind of sunshine was unusual for the region; certainly had us fooled given it didn’t budge for 4 days straight!

It was no surprise to us that the lovely Sara was breathtaking as a bride – elegant, stylish and radiating happiness. Her glow matched only by Glenn’s cheshire grin as he proudly walked his wife from the church. The reception that followed at Caer Rhun Hall in Conwy felt like something out of a Jane Austen movie. Canapes and champagne on the grass outside the marquee in the sun as we marveled at the beautiful grounds of the estate. (Our ‘foliage’ shots unfortunately not doing the gardens any justice.) A grand marquee with rivers of white drapes gathering to points punctuated by chandeliers. With glimpses of the lush green estate though the windows of the marquee I simply couldn’t imagine a more beautiful setting for a wedding. And if the guests hadn’t been bowled over by the setting, they most certainly wouldn’t have stood a chance against the food – ‘falling off the bone’ lamb shanks followed by perfect crème brulee… wedding food will never be quite the same again. Who knew it was possible to provide quality restaurant standard food for 140 people!

The day was moving, exciting, beautiful, funny and just the tiniest bit injury prone (some of us got carried away on the dance floor – not quite as young as we used to be you might say…I blame the cracking music list that took no prisoners).

Thanks Glenn and Sara for an unforgettable weekend and day – we hope it was everything you were hoping for.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Fighting through Croissants in Les Gets

Posted on by
Reply
When: 26/03/2011
Where: Les Gets, France
Stayed: Hotel Les Alpages

Question: How do you know when you’ve had too many crepes and croissants?
Answer: When you find yourself actively seeking out the prunes at breakfast…
The trip to Les Gets was almost too easy and we kept waiting for something to go wrong. (It’s a genuine surprise to us when we manage to arrive in a new country unscathed.)
A quick flight to Geneva and then a shuttle transfer waiting for us in the car park made for a smooth transition. We were escorted by a self proclaimed communist driving Brit who regaled us with his views on the Government and how the end of the world was coming soon if the NHS was abolished. Can’t understand how he ended up doing daily 3 x 2hr return trips to Geneva for a living with such subtle opinions…? Within 1 hour of arriving in Switzerland we were checking into our hotel in the French Alps – Les Alpages. Much to my delight we were greeted by a snoring Golden Retriever in reception. After several minutes of cooing and saying ‘hello fella etc etc’ it suddenly occurred to me that even though the locals were bi-lingual, it was probably a stretch to expect a pooch to understand English. ‘Bonjour’ got a yawn and sniff of the hand which was good enough for me.

Les Gets was every bit the stereotypical French resort complete with breadstick carrying locals, charcuteries every 10 metres and croissants begging to be eaten at all times of the day. (Hence the prune seeking expedition) The locals were extremely friendly and very obliging when presented with ‘parlez vous anglais?’ We couldn’t have been more grateful given our very limited French and desire to eat.

The snow in Les Gets was definitely on the tail end of the season – but for us ‘hacks’ this was more than sufficient. Day 1 brought perfect blue skies, some seriously sun burnt faces and a plethora of kids – turns out it was the last day of school holidays and the parents were wearing out the frenchlings before embarking on the trip home. Watching such a large number of kids skiing in groups is one of the funniest sights I’ve seen. In a scene reminiscent of Happy Feet, the kids skied with their arms extended scarecrow style, backsides brushing the snow and a snow-plough action so deep that I wondered how they managed to walk in a straight line afterwards. They would tail their instructors like sniffer dogs down the mountain, single file. The concentration on their faces broken only by the domino effect of carnage as someone in the line lost control. Watching the action from the chairlift was a bit like being unable to tear your eyes away from a car crash. Perfectly in sync, fluid as a group, 1 stumble followed by a yelp and 4 car pile up. Assuming no serious injuries, fantastic entertainment.

After only a few runs, Justin and I discovered our ski legs again and promoted ourselves to the red runs. Wearing our ‘red run’ upgrade like a badge of honour, we skied with confidence for several hours before stopping at a little café, half-way down one of the slopes. Having mastered a few basic phrases, Jusitn ordered deux café crème and un crepe con le beurre et sucre. After being disappointed that café crème was literally coffee with cream (not milk) we sat back in the sun and waited for the crepe to come out. The peace was broken by a high pitched scream coming from the café window. “Joostine!!! Joostine!!!   Every patron in the café turned around in unison to see who was being attacked – only to see the waitress madly gesturing from the window for Justin to come and collect his crepe. The tables of Brits around us erupted with laughter as Joostine slunk over to the café window, apologising profusely for being late. Oh how I love the language barrier when two people hear and understand completely opposite instructions. The slap on the wrist and 5 mins of mortification were well worth the delicious crepe though!

Day 2 of skiing brought a deserted resort and hours of free wheeling down the mountain. The highlight of the day being the discovery of the longest run in the resort which took in the highest peak, most spectacular views and best snow cover. An outstanding pizza mountainside for lunch and we both contemplated whether it was possible to recreationally ski for a living. The lowlight of the day was the run-in I had with an out of control snowboarder. Like a stunned rabbit I could only watch as the snowboarding camaze careened down the mountain straight for me. Taking a leaf out of the frenchlings’ book my instinct drove my legs into a ridiculous looking snow plough action that screamed ‘survival!’. Somewhat miraculously I managed to stay upright on one leg as the lunatic swept my right leg from underneath me. It all happened so quickly that by the time I’d finishing telling him what I thought (in no uncertain terms), I was nearing the bottom of the run and found myself accepting praise from those around me for remaining on my feet!


The day was topped off by a meal at L’Outa which rates as one of the most outstanding feeds we’ve both ever had. Life surely doesn’t get any better…

 

 

Top 10 for Les Gets:

  1. Screaming obscenities at crazy snowboarders won’t change their behaviour…but will make you feel a whole lot better!
  2. Animals are not necessarily multi lingual
  3. Eating 6 croissants a day will wreak havoc with your digestive system
  4. It’s often easier to fly into a different European country to the one you’re planning to ski in
  5. French people do in fact carry around breadsticks…
  6. Contrary to popular opinion, I firmly believe there is a place on the slopes for a ridiculous looking snow-plough action
  7. Avoid restaurants where the menu is written in English
  8. Don’t ask socialist shuttle bus drivers for their opinion on the world
  9. Just because it’s 2 degrees doesn’t mean you won’t get sunburnt
  10. Don’t judge the French by the Parisians

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Eating ourselves into oblivion

Posted on by
Reply

When: 04/02/2011

Where: Prague, Czech Republic

Stayed: Residence Santini

It’s a well known fact that budget airlines attracts a unique breed of human life. Pushy, angry, loud and quite often a bit smelly. After travelling on the cheap several times we’ve since decided the discounted tickets are grossly overrated. Trading off your ‘happy holiday place’ in order to save a few bucks generally does not amount to a relaxing start to your trip.

Fighting for your seat is bad enough but to then go 10 rounds in order to stow your bag in the very spot someone else would like their jacket screwed up, doesn’t do much for the stress levels. It never ceases to amaze me the size and nature of some of the luggage passengers think will fit in the overhead compartments. You have to admire the persistence and conviction shown by people when faced with the prospect of having to pay an additional £18 to check their bag. One tattooed, crest baring passenger from Essex summed up the general feeling as we sat watching the chaos around us: “It’s a fookn bunfight this Easyjet business i’n it? Easy Jet, Ryan air yuse are all the same – hate yuse all”. Yes, so do we a lot of the time.
We announced our arrival in the silent city of Prague around 5pm by wheeling our bags along the dark cobblestone streets. “Thieves and pickpockets come and get us – WE ARE TOURISTS” our bags shouted to all those within 5 square kms.Despite our bells and whistles arrival we made it safely to our hotel. A lovely little boutique called Santini Residence about 10mins walk from Malostranska metro station; in the vicinity of Prague Castle. Our room was warm and filled with character. It was also filled with multiple low hanging beams which proved to be a hazard for those of us prone to walking into things. Sure enough, I managed to smack my head on the beams 4 times over the next few days. I considered this to be a good result given decapitation may not have been completely out of the question had I sat up quickly in bed.

A new camera in tow we didn’t waste any time in hot footing it down to Charles Bridge on the first night. Not knowing the significance of it at the time (it was built in 1357 for King Charles IV), we just marvelled at the spectacular view. Shrouded in darkness and a light mist with very few people around, the scene looked a little like something out of a Harry Potter movie. The strategically placed lamps dotting the 516m bridge, the alley of baroque style statues lining either side and the mournful tones of a lone violin created a somewhat eerie setting. Feeling intrigued by this peaceful city we couldn’t wait to learn some of the history.

Our questions were answered the next day by a walking tour guide; a local who insisted on carrying around a TV antenna with a yellow flag attached. This was to ensure we never lost sight of her despite there being a grand total of 4 people in the group… Nevertheless, she was very well informed and brought us up to speed on the history of the city. It’s incredible to think just how recent the turbulence in the city has been with communism only wiped out in the late 80’s. Almost a decade in Prague’s history seems to be characterized by public demonstrations. The heartbreaking stories of students burning themselves to death in protest also give you the feeling the city’s wounds a still quite raw.
The recent demolition of the 15m high statue of Stalin was swept under the carpet with most Czeck people ashamed to have had such a beastly criminal who wreaked havoc on their city on display. In it’s place stands a metronome which is a constant reminder to the Czeck people that nothing is set in stone and that to retain balance the city must constantly evolve.

In true holiday style we spent the majority of our stay in Prague sitting in cafes and restaurants. First stop was a luxurious meal at La Degustation. A Czeck menu with local wines to compliment set the tone for a lavish meal which included 7 Amuse Bouches and 7 courses. We calculated 20 different glasses used between the two of us – no wonder the glass shining guy in the corner didn’t stop for the 4 hours we were there. This meal pushed us out of our comfort zone with snails, beef tongue, quail eggs and foam six ways to name a few additions to the eating repertoire. The following night we had an equally impressive meal at Phenix restaurant. The only downside being the local Czeck Digestive which brought tears to our eyes. You know you’re in trouble when the alcohol content of a drink comes with a fire hazard attached! Café Savoy, Café Slavia, Louvre Café and the Artisan café were other highlights on the cafe rotation. The biggest surprise package on our café hop was the fact that smoking is still permitted indoors in Prague. Not realising this was the case, I drew myself up with my best ‘Steve Prior’ teacher face ready to scold the first smoker I came across. I promptly realised that another 4 tables were smoking at this particular café and tucked away my knee high socks in defeat.

Prague castle (largest castle in the world) is the main attraction on any self respecting tourist’s itinerary. We did our box ticking bit and diligently climbed the 289 steps to the top of South Tower to take in the cracking views of the city. The Old Town, the New Town, the Jewish Quarter and the Lesser Town are distinct regions on the map but appear as a series of terra cotta roof tops; with only the Vltava river dividing the city.
There is definitely something majestic about the city of Prague which is home to around 1.3m people. It has been through gut wrenching human rights devastation and numerous religious battles but the locals talk about the history with pride. Probably not overly surprising to learn that only 40% of the locals are religious today however…

Top 10 for Prague:

  1. A digestive akin to petrol does not perform any kind of healthy digestive function
  2. An antenna and yellow flag flying high are not required when your tour group consists of 4 people
  3. Cobblestone streets are idyllic but quite unfriendly to the wheels on your bag.
  4. There’s nothing wrong with spending more time eating than all other activities combined…is there?!
  5. Smoking is still permitted in eating areas in Prague – don’t bother trying to guilt people into stubbing out
  6. Snails don’t have a distinctive flavour…if anything perhaps a bit like chewing on a tasty rubber hair band
  7. Having 1000 kc doesn’t mean you have a lot of money
  8. There are almost as many Thai massage clinics in Prague as there are in Phuket… could this be related to the number of CHAV bucks parties???
  9. Prague airport to the city is the most cost efficient travel in all of Europe – approximately £3!
  10. Travel budget airlines at own risk

    This slideshow requires JavaScript.