Travel

Reflections on our travels

We are getting close to the end of another trip around one of our favourite places – Spain. We have traveled over 6000 kms in 5 weeks. In our journey we have visited new places, like Ronda and Cartagena, and further explored some favourite haunts such as Granada, Cordoba and Valencia.

Once again we have been amazed and mesmerised by spectacular scenery, as well as being infatuated by its history and downright quirkiness. The coast around the north west corner is rugged and spectacular. From Gijon through to Fisterra the coastline is dramatic and rugged. But personally, I love the arid landscape of Extremadura, wondering how these people make a living off the land and remembering that many of the conquistadors came from this part of the world – probably already hardened by their environment.

In the south, steering clear of the tourist Meccas, there are amazing beaches stuck in tiny coves – and then there is the hinterland- a curse for truck drivers, but the mountains and canyons are spectacular.

The people understand very little English and our Spanish is equally poor, but apart from the odd deli assistant, they are always welcoming and friendly. A “hola” always gets a reply.

We visit many churches as we walk though towns and cities. Some are simple in their expression of Catholicism and some very ornate with square metres of gold leaf covering the ornaments. With every church we visit I sit and spend some time in prayer, praying for the congregation and its leaders.

Yet we are not uncritical. The omnipresent graffiti, even in some of the most dramatic and ancient settings, is deeply offensive and belittling of this amazing country and its history. And then there are moments walking around the cities when the smell of dog poo is overwhelming. There is the human contribution with the pools of urine against buildings every morning after a evening of drinking. Rubbish by the roadside and around towns is hard to ignore and the many decaying buildings left to rot in towns and cities is quite confronting. The lottery ticket hawkers are also tiresome. One thing that confronts me personally is the number of homeless people and beggars which makes me feel helpless and guilty. I have tried to engage with some of these struggling people on a number of occasions. In one situation the girl was clearly pregnant and simple, and I got the clear impression that someone had put her in the church doorway to use her to make money. On another occasion I engaged with a young man who was on the Camino without support. He spoke some English and it was clear there were other struggles going on. All I could give was some human contact, but on the whole, left feeling helpless.

We can become blind to the failures of our own culture and I am sure many Spaniards no longer see many of these eyesores.

At best, it is a reminder to me to look at my own country and society with a fresh and critical eye.

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Camping Overseas

Recently someone asked us how we go camping overseas. All our camping gear fits into a suitcase. Tent, camping stove, mats, sleeping bags – all come in at 10 kgs. Plates and batteries for our headlights we pick up when we arrive.

Our philosophy is that we go overseas to see the sights, not to luxuriate in hotels. The cost of three nights camping is roughly equivalent to one night in moderately priced accommodation. We have done this from the Arctic Circle in Norway to the southern extremities of Tasmania.

The downside is that the weather can sometimes overwhelm us, or, as occurred recently, our trusty tent failed us and we were swamped in our tent on our first night in Spain. But Decathlon had a good range of tents and the new tent has already paid for itself.

The upside is priceless. We have camped in some of the most spectacular scenery imaginable. The list is long, here are some of the highlights: the Grand Canyon, the Lorelei rock overlooking the Rhine River, Hells Gates in Tasmania (Tassie has many), Gudvangen in Norway (again, like Tassie, many more), the Murray river, Torla in Spain, on the lakes or coast of Sweden …

There are times when we pike out, like the time when it rained for a week straight during a European Summer. When we got to Heidelberg, still raining, we opted for a cabin. Then there was the time in Cuenca when the campsite let us down and a local hotel offered us a special rate. Another time we just wanted to experience living in a Ducal palace so we did that in Zafra. Those two nights could have paid for 12 or more nights camping. But it was a special treat.

How long can we do this for? My wife has no problem sitting on the ground for long periods of time, whereas my back is starting to complain. A cheap chair from Decathlon might be the answer. But we both know that we will continue to do this as long as our bodies allow us too. Most friends, and certainly fellow campers, think we are as mad as cut snakes, but my wife doesn’t care what other people think and every year I am growing to be more like her.

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People Watching

Currently we are on the return journey back to Bergen after having made it all the way to Kirkenes. The boat we are on is essentially a fancy ferry that transports locals up and down the coast as well as tourists. We stop at a number of ports each day for people to embark and disembark and to allow other passengers to go on tours or meander through the local town.

The ship is small by cruise liner standards but has some of the same facilities. My wife describes the decor as “Upmarket Medical Centre”.

The main attraction for me is the amazing scenery we travel through but there is also time to observe my fellow passengers – at meals, in conversation, on tours and in the general activity of the ship. There are groups, couples, families and singles. There are Norwegians, Germans, French, Americans and a smattering of other nationalities. There are extreme introverts, and the far more annoying, extreme extroverts and every personality in between – and you are all stuck together for hours on end. Then you have drinkers for whom the bar is the focus of the ship, and the knitters who look for a quiet spot to click the needles and observe the amazing scenery. Crossword doodlers, shutterbugs, readers, board game players and jigsaw puzzlers round out the menagerie.

Vardo

A game I play is to listen for the accents to guess where people are from and when an opportune moment arises I will ask them, to see how close I got.

On this particular trip we have had two very special encounters. The first was with a pastor and his wife who had been in a church in Melbourne for a few years and are now back in Sweden. Even more amazing, we knew the town they came from and I actually had a photo of a friend of his which I had taken when he gave us a tour of a museum. The second encounter was with an elderly retired German academic who shared with us some of his amazing life. This was a special privilege.

I shouldn’t forget the crew. They need to keep good order on the ship as well as keeping the passengers happy. Most are friendly and some officious. They all do their respective jobs well but don’t get back to the ship late! Then you see their dark side. After a week you become familiar with the waiting and cleaning staff. On our trip the real test came when there was a bomb scare. Suddenly the crew had to take on different roles in an unfamiliar environment. The threat happened just as people were returning to the ship in port. Shelter, water and food had to be found, frail people supported and information transmitted. This was a moment when some of the crew really stood up and showed leadership and others stood back and waited for orders – a microcosm of everyday life.

Anyway, people are coming back from their excursions so it is time to swatch again.

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Robe – A Gem

I have travelled quite extensively around my area of the world but every now and then one finds a gem that has been missed in the past. In our recent trip to South Australia we went to Robe, in the South East corner not far from Mt Gambier. It is situated on an attractive bay. A stone obelisk on Cape Dombey which guided ships to the harbour, is still extant.

In the mid-1800s it was South Australia’s second busiest port. At this time Chinese migrants wishing to avoid Victoria’s arrival tax landed here and walked the 400 kilometres to Ballarat. It is estimated that 16000 travelled this path! The port became redundant with the advent of the railways and the wool and sheepskins which had previously been exported from here found another way of reaching their destinations.

What remains however is an attractive village which, by Australian standards, contains a collection of fine historical buildings – houses, churches and pubs. It is quite a treat to wander around the village with the aid of a pamphlet produced by the local council.

Today it is a holiday retreat with a protected marina for the keen fishermen. The fine old buildings are interspersed with modern units and houses. The town is alive and active but its C21st life is a far cry from the square riggers finding safe harbour here over 150 years ago.

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Some Glimpses of Madrid

In the future I would like to write more about this city but here are some glimpses to whet the appetite.

One of our favourite painters is Joachim Sorolla whose understanding of light and family infuses his paintings. On this occasion we didn’t enter the gallery but Hetty went to the bookshop and I wandered around the garden of what was originally his home.

Madrid is surrounded by huge parks, in part, because of it monarchist past. One is Retiro park with a lake and its own Crystal Palace.

The Museum of Archeology has an excellent collection that is beautifully presented. Spain is saturated in Roman sites and this part of their history shone.

And, of course, there are the churches.

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Lisbon I love you but I had to leave you

I said a while back I would write a few things about Lisbon.

Lisbon is an amazing city! It has a population of about 3 million people but it is the old city that grabs the most attention. It’s history, buildings, culture and people meld into an intoxicating mixture.

We went to the Lisbon Story Centre on the main Comércio square. It is an excellent narration of the history of the city: it’s origins, colonial period, the earthquake of 1755 and its emergence from dictatorship in 1974 – with its secret code in the Eurovision Song Contest.

Armed with this background we explored! The famous 28E tram takes you through the old town and gives the tourist an excellent overview of this part of Lisbon. The problem with the 28E tram is that it is popular. It is Tokyo style peak hour all day. Tourists are jammed into these tiny trams, hanging out of windows and squashed cheek and jowl all the way. We did it once but only once. I had no interest in getting to know the other tourists this well. The locals know that you catch the bus or metro – not as exotic but more effective and pleasant.

We did all the touristy things – castles, churches and etc. but one place needs a special mention – The National Tile Museum – Museu Nacional do Azulejo. Its display and presentation of the ceramic tiles so clearly visible throughout Spain and Portugal was amazing. The history, development and variety were displayed professionally in an old convent whose space was used very effectively.

But Lisbon highlights a problem. Tourists overrun the city. I felt guilty being there. It seems that the lives of the local inhabitants needs to make way for the influx of tourists where 3 cruise ship can disgorge over 10000 people into the middle of the old town in one hit. I haven’t felt the same in other places. Even Barcelona, in the past, was not that crazy, however, on this occasion although loving Lisbon I breathed a little easier once I had left.

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Here are some of my wife’s reflections on Spain

Being in Spain for a few months has shown me many aspects of this beautiful country.
In the north we travelled a bit around the area of Estella and Pamplona, and then to the west around Logrono and Burgos. The people seem friendly enough and there is a strong sense of community, but they’re reluctant to let you into their lives. A returning wave and a smile is the most you can expect.

But they are hardworking, and this is especially evident when you look at the countryside. Every available field is being cultivated. Much of it was with vineyards.
As we continued our trip, to the southwest and into Portugal, the landscape opened up to wide expanses of farmlands. But this was different. It was a harsh land, full of rocks and boulders. Every fence, every building, every road, was made from the rocks of the fields. It was dry country, yet it was productive. Cattle grazed between the boulders. And every so often we saw an ‘orchard’ of solar panels set out in neat rows. There were lots of sunflower crops ready for harvest too. This was a harsh environment but it was far from barren.

In the region of Extramadura we saw the best examples of how this country uses every resource to its maximum capacity. I have been told this region is extremely challenging. A rugged terrain, a hot, dry climate, and a people to match. Our first foray into Extramadura was the Valley of Cherries in the north. It was high in the hills, deep ravines, steep hillsides. But every inch was under the cultivation of cherries. The terraced land had rows and rows of cherry trees as far as you could see.
Further south we encountered the hundreds of olive groves, the vineyards, the cork trees, and the sheep and cattle. Near Zafra we saw fields of oak trees, and on a day’s excursion to the south of the town we saw so many of these trees we asked someone why. The famous Iberian jamon comes from pigs that feast on the acorns that fall from the trees every October.

As if there weren’t enough resources on the surface to avail themselves of, the Spanish also use the wind and the sun for electricity production. Centuries old windmills sit alongside new wind turbines on the ridges. And then today as we drove through the hills towards Córdoba we saw coal mines and cement production facilities.
It seems as if Spaniards have had thousands of years to learn how to get the most from their country, and it is equally true to say they are willing to embrace new technologies to continue doing this into the future.

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Extramadura

(A post on Lisbon is still coming)

Extremadura. It sounds like a cooking term but it is actually a region of Spain sandwiched between Andalusia, Portugal, Castile La Mancha and Castile & León. It is the driest, most arid part of Spain but is flooded with history. Imagine north west Victoria/South Australia with Roman ruins. Many people from the area tried to escape the harshness of this place in the past and were part of the expeditionary armies of the C16&17th. Some brought back loot and fame.

This area is also know for the Iberian black pig which is let out when the acorns fall to the ground so they can munch on this fruit. Little do the pigs realise that this makes their pound of flesh all the more desirable. It becomes the most sought after, and therefore most expensive, jamon.

Roman ruins are widely spread throughout this area. Merida and Badajoz are well known for their ruins but further south a few kilometres outside the small town of Casas de Reina there is a vast Roman site that includes a theatre. For generations the locals knew it as the place of the ‘thick wall’ but were unaware what archeology lay underneath. Houses, shops, temple and other buildings have all been discovered at this spot.

The white towns with their squares are full of life – particularly after five pm when families come out. Children play and parents and grandparents natter over a drink and tapas.

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Go West (not so) Young Man

After leaving Caceres we headed towards Portugal. The first surprise was the range of landscapes from dry paddocks filled with granite boulders, reminiscent of places in Australia, through to lush valleys covered in crops and orchards. Closer to Portugal there were tree plantations and even gum trees that were at home in their element.

The biggest surprise was the Roman bridge on the on the Tagus River at Alcantara – quite a magnificent structure despite having been damaged in wars over the centuries.

We then moved to the coast of Portugal staying a night Figuiera da Foz. The camping ground wasn’t much to write home about but the sunset was beautiful and surfers enjoyed their time in the water. In the morning we drove to Sao Martinho do Porto, a beautiful harbour and clearly a popular seaside resort. Here we bought a Portuguese version of a churro which was large, hollow and filled with chocolate. The eyes of my child bride glowed with delight. They also had paddle boats with their own water slide which I thought was an interesting innovation. Then we moved onto Perniche, a fascinating town, although another seaside resort, built in and around an old fortress. In the past this was clearly and important harbour. The geology was also amazing. A trip around the peninsula gives the Great Ocean Road a run for its money. It was covered in rock outcrops, tessellated rock platforms and craggy moonscapes.

Finally we drove to Lisboa but that is a story for another day.

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Some days are diamonds and some days are coal

Today was going to be the first day of our drive around Spain and Portugal. I had booked a hire car near the pension where we were staying. A short walk and we would be on our way. With confidence and masculine authority I led my trusting wife to the Avis office only to find it had changed hands and was no longer Avis. Made some calls with International Roaming flying through my credit. It is a couple of kms further down the road. I left trusting bride in a hotel lobby that was willing for her to sit there, and marched up the road. I felt as though I was walking clear of Burgos and the numbers on the buildings had disappeared. I looked down an alleyway and there at the end, 20 businesses away, was the Avis Budget office. Beautifully hidden and camouflaged in a way to keep customers on their toes.

They offered me an upgrade – ‘a cheebrid’. A what? ‘A cheebrid- electricity and gas.’ Oh, a hybrid I muttered to myself.

Papers signed, Keys handed over, and I started the car like any normal car and I drove off. Picked up patient bride with car starting normally and headed out of town. We then stopped in a picnic area to have lunch. It was time to go. Car wouldn’t start. Tried and tried again. Translated instrument panel Spanish into English. Nothing! Called RACE, the Royal Automobile Club of España. My mechanic friend turned up and informed me that once the battery is charged it doesn’t make broom, broom noises. Very sheepishly and exceptionally quietly, I drove away.

I am now in Segovia licking my wounds but my bride is very understanding.

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