Writing

Steam’s up in North Yorkshire

What is the magic of the steam train?  I’m not sure, but if North York Moors Railway knew the answer, they’d bottle it.  Noisy, smelly, sooty – not the adjectives you’d normally associate with a top class tourist attraction, but on a sunny spring morning in Grosmont, the air positively thrums with excitement.  Celebrating 60 years this year, the North York Moors Railway is an unqualified success story.

“The Green Knight” arrives at Grosmont

I was enjoying the best of all possible worlds because I was riding the train from Grosmont to Goathland, and walking back, with my Nordic walking friends.  Arriving on the platform around 11am, there was an air of serenity and calm.  The view along the platform spoke of all the delights of England’s green and pleasant land.  Unhurriedly purchasing a ticket, I gazed around.  The pretty blue benches were inviting, but I knew that if I sat down I could be tempted to lose the remainder of the day.

A peaceful start at Grosmont

An empty platform

Delicious coffee smells filled the air, and a couple of my ever hungry walking pals wolfed down bacon and sausage sarnies.  A tempting array of scones and cakes sat on the counter of the café.

One minute the platform was empty, the next there was a bustle of people and cameras everywhere.  “It’s coming!”  Sure enough, a loud toot and a hiss heralded the arrival of “The Green Knight”, majestically rolling towards the platform.  The cream and maroon carriages gleamed.  Hastily snapping away, along with everybody else who wanted to capture a piece of the moment, I scrambled on board just in time.  “Tickets please”, that familiar cry, then we were enveloped in ink blackness as we chugged into the tunnel.  Jokes about “Murder on the Orient Express” were bandied around, till we emerged unscathed into the sunlight.

Where did everybody come from?

Arriving at Goathland

Milk churns in waiting

I felt unbelievably lucky to be witnessing this idyllic scenery on such a beautiful day.  All too soon it was time to alight at Goathland, carriage doors slamming and the guard scurrying about.  Reluctantly I left the gentle monster and was herded up and counted by our walk leader.

Another treat was in store.  With a fair level of fitness between us, it had been decided that we would walk to Mallyan Spout, and then join the popular Rail Trail along the River Esk.  Goathland is “Heartbeat” territory, the scene of a popular TV series, and as such always busy.  Many people simply ride the train and stroll around the village.  There are just enough public houses, shops and cafes to cater for everyone, and the village green is pure England.  Not for us the tempting benches.  I doubt if we’d have found a space anyway.

The pastoral scene on the village green, Goathland

Too-wit, too-whoo!

Always when you’re out walking, you know that if at first you’re heading downwards, there will be a price to pay.  There are many steps down to Mallyan Spout, and the scramble across the rocks to a viewing point can be challenging, but the amount of rain in recent times had guaranteed that the waterfall would be at its best.  So it proved.  Satisfied with our efforts so far, we stopped by the river for our picnic, and to exchange tips with passersby.

Sparkling River Esk

Mallyan Spout waterfall

Perfect for a picnic

Time to move on at a leisurely pace, because, of course, the climb was coming.  Several of the walkers are in their seventies but they’re a lively and determined bunch, and we had soon earned our reward of a level track to pursue our way back to Grosmont.  The Rail Trail is easy walking and can be accomplished by most people.  I love to follow a river, and the occasional glimpse and sound of a passing steam train has necks craning to see.  The grass verges were laced with tiny blue forget-me-nots and great swathes of wild garlic swamped the senses.

Before long we were looking down on Grosmont, and the trail ended by the Old School House, now an attractive restaurant.  A cool drink had certainly been earned and it was lovely to slip the boots off and while away an hour.  The gates of the level crossing heralded the comings and goings of the steam giants, but when we returned to the platform en route for the car park and home, all was again peaceful and quiet.  Just time for a quick peak in the “ladies room”.

A heat haze over Grosmont

A “ladies” with style

Numerous days out can be spent on and around the North York Moors Railway.  At this time of year, it’s just coming into it’s own. For timetable and details of events, see www.nymr.co.uk

Kreativly tagged!

Such a lucky lady I’m feeling today.  I’ve been given the Kreativ Blogger Award by Sam of Two Black Dogs  I’ve often admired this logo in other people’s sidebars.  Now, if I can just remember how to put it there, I’ll be able to admire my own!

I had a thoroughly good time reading the blogs of my fellow nominees and have made some lovely new friends, so thank you Sam, both for the award and for putting me in such good company.  Sam blogs very appealingly about dogs (of course!) and “other things she loves”, so off you go and take a look.

As is traditional, I now have to share 7 things about me, and nominate 7 other Kreativ bloggers.

1. “Can we just go to the NEXT corner?” has been my gambit on family holidays for years.  They’re ahead of me now though, and usually either turn back when it suits them or sit down, pointedly, and wait.

2.  My need to try something new when presented with a menu has led to some serious disappointments.  Starving hungry one evening in Italy I looked aghast at a dish of sea creatures in their shells sitting in a dish of tomato sauce.  Not my kind of thing at all, Michael with his “safe” choice smugly looked on while I dipped bread in the sauce.  Much worse the time I walked him and son James for miles across Lisbon, seeking out a recommended Chinese restaurant.  We passed several and each time they would stop, eye up the menu, and say “this one looks ok”.  Not good enough, it had to be this specific restaurant, so when I ordered crab curry they definitely had the last laugh when I was presented with a bowl full of legs, and couldn’t eat a bite!

3.  I’m a pretty average cook, and fly into a complete panic if I have to entertain.

4.  Still talking culinary, we’ve had a barbecue at the house in Tavira for 8 years and only ever used it once!  I’m clueless and Michael is completely disinterested in donning a pinny.

5.  I must get some things right, I guess, because my lady friends and me have been hosting monthly “girl’s nights” for 40 years, and they still all turn up when it’s my turn to cook (or maybe they’re too inebriated to mind).

6.  I was brought up largely by my maternal grandmother, long since deceased, bless her.  Mam and Dad went their separate ways when I was quite small.

7.  I have two amazingly talented and gifted children.  Lisa has appeared before in my blog pages.  She can sew anything, basques and Victorian costumes included, and I can’t wait to see the creation she comes up with for her wedding gown.  James doesn’t sew, but he’s a mean guitarist!

This goes back such a long way- I don’t have many of the two of them together

Talking about gifted and talented people, I’m now going to turn my attention to a tag that was passed to me by Vicky…the Northern Chicky.  The pretty red tag above is her design, and if you follow the link you will see that she has presented me with some quite difficult questions.  I have to choose one to answer from eleven options, and then pose eleven new questions to my unsuspecting candidates.

Like myself, Vicky has Polish ancestry, but there the similarities end.  She lives in the USA with 5 children, and is contemplating a life changing move- compulsive reading!

Vicky’s questions were:

  • What’s something you know you do differently than most people?
  • What is the most defining moment of your life thus far?
  • Is it more important to love or be loved?
  • What’s the one thing you’d like others to remember about you at the end of your life?
  • What small act of kindness were you once shown that you will never forget?
  • Are you happy with yourself?
  • What is your most prized possession?
  • In your lifetime, what have you done that hurt someone else?
  • Right now, at this moment, what do you want most?
  • What’s something most people don’t know about you?
  • Who would you like to forgive?

Some big issues, huh?  But I’ve done enough soul searching in this post already (and probably bored you witless) so I’m going to make a flippant choice.

What’s something you know you do differently than most people?

My answer is going to be “Six word Saturday”!  My six words are almost always illustrated by a gallery of photographs.  It has been pointed out to me that I should rename my posts “Six photo Saturday”, but Cate of Show my Face gave us carte blanche to adapt our own style.  Travel is my passion and I can loose myself for hours in photos of our amazingly beautiful world.  You know what this is leading up to, don’t you?  I can never resist a few more photos of Portugal.

Casa de Alte

Water feature powered by the Fonte- the young uns love it!

Can anyone identify, please?

“Scarecrow” image, traditional on May Day

Church roof in Alte

Castro Marim

Are you still with me?  Here are my nominees for the Kreativ Blogger award.

http://travelpenandpalate.com/

http://lizzierosejewellery.wordpress.com/

http://catbirdinoman.wordpress.com/

http://suellewellyn2011.wordpress.com/

http://stephaniecalvet.wordpress.com/

http://retireediary.wordpress.com/

http://hobbyfabulous.wordpress.com/

Wonderful photography, interesting ideas, talented people- that’s what you’ll find.

Now for my 11 questions :

1.  Which place would you most like to visit, and why?

2.  In my next incarnation, I would like to be…?

3.  Which person from history would you most like to meet and why?

4.  What has been the most exciting experience you have ever had?

5.  Have you a life lesson that you would like to share?

6.  The best meal I ever had was…?

7.  What changes would you most want to implement if you were a leading politician?

8.  The best holiday I ever had was…?

9.  The quality I most admire in a friend is…?

10.  If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?

11.  Do you have a favourite walk, and if so where?

I’m taking a leaf out of Vicky’s book and tagging the people who comment most regularly on my blog.  If you happen to be reading this and fancy making a post out of any of these questions, you’re very welcome to join in.  Consider yourself “tagged” if you’re on this list.

http://theurgetowander.com/

http://francineinretirement.wordpress.com/

http://justasmidgen.com/

http://algarveblog.net/

http://apetcher.wordpress.com/

http://titabuds.com/

http://thismansjourney.net/

http://hferrati.wordpress.com/

http://thelaughinghousewife.wordpress.com/

http://vivinfrance.wordpress.com/

http://rlavalette.wordpress.com/

Hasn’t this been a marathon?  I daren’t even think about Francine’s “Sisterhood Award”.  I’m off now to notify everybody.  Cheery-bye!

G is for Guadiana

My next post seems to flow quite naturally from my recent trip across the Guadiana River.  More than 800 kilometres long, if you look at it on a map it’s very clear that the bulk of this river is in Spanish territory.  It rises in Castile-La Mancha and shortly after the Spanish city of Badajoz, turns south, forming the border with Portugal for most of the remainder of its length.

Guadiana’s origin- from Wikipedia Commons

It’s this southern area that I love, and with which I’m familiar.  The Guadiana glides out into the Atlantic Ocean.  At the river mouth a brief ferry ride connects Ayamonte on the Spanish side with Vila Real de Santo Antonio in Portugal.  The difference between the two cultures is tangible, and the time difference simply serves to accentuate this.  Unless you time it carefully you will frequently find that Ayamonte is engaged in a prolonged siesta when you arrive.  The elegantly tiled main square and pretty calles are still worth a stroll, but remember to switch to buenas dias when you order your tapas.

Main square, Ayamonte

A street corner in Ayamonte

Vila Real de Santo Antonio (as opposed to Vila Real in the north) is one of the architecturally more interesting towns in the Algarve.  Demolished by a tidal wave following the 1755 earthquake, it was rebuilt on a grid plan by the Marques de Pombal.  Using the same plan he had pioneered in Lisbon’s Baixa district, the rebuild was completed in just 5 months.  The attractive main square bears his name and is often the scene of lively cultural events.

I love to stroll along the mosaic tiled river bank, picking a favourite yacht from the dozens moored in the extensive marina.  4km to the north, the arcs of the bridge linking Portugal with Spain are clearly visible.  In summer a very pleasant boat trip can be taken up the Guadiana, to the Foz de Odeleite, where a restaurant and refreshing swimming pool await.

River front at Vila Real de Santo Antonio

The swift and often empty IC27 runs north from Vila Real to connect with Alcoutim, the next town along the river.  Alcoutim has a long history as a river port.  It was fortified by the Greeks, Romans and Arabs, and the commanding castle dates from the 14th century.  Not much battling goes on these days and Alcoutim is a delightfully sleepy spot to simply sit and stare.  Across the river, idyllic Sanlucar de Guadiana looks back.  If you can catch the small ferry, a wander through Sanlucar’s immaculate white streets is a lovely distraction.  Restoration is taking place on the castle ruins so that might prove a rewarding trip for the future.  The Romeria takes place the first weekend in May, for a feast of flamenco frocks. Just ask Flat Ruthie.  She’s been!

Alcoutim from the river

Sanlucar de Guadiana from the river bank at Alcoutim

The banks of the Guadiana are wonderful for walkers, and the riverside road back down towards Castro Marim, from Alcoutim to Guerreiros do Rio, is one of the loveliest I have ever driven.  For now though, continue north on the N122, over the border into the Alentejo.  Set high above the Guadiana, at Mertola, are the mighty ruins of yet another Moorish frontier castle.  The region is home to the rare black stork and little other than birdsong disturbs the peace, though copper was once mined locally.  At the top of the winding streets the mother church, Igreja Matriz, looks down.  Behind the altar on the eastern wall the mihrab (prayer niche) testifies to her former life as a mosque.

Mertola hilltop fortress and Igreja Matriz

North of Mertola the river carves through a deep gorge with limited access by road.  For intrepid types the reward is the Pulo do Lobo waterfall and some remarkable rock formations.

Despite a lot of opposition to the project initially, the Alqueva Dam today presents a serene surface.  It’s a developing market for gentle boating holidays.  The 250square metre reservoir was created by damming the Guadiana, causing substantial loss of natural habitat, not to mention the compulsory relocation of the hamlet of Luz.

One of the best vantage points for viewing this vast expanse of water is the tiny hilltop village of Monsaraz.  It has to be one of the most charismatic places I’ve found in Portugal, and believe me, I’ve found a few.  Within its fortress walls there is essentially just one street, Rua Direita, with a village square, two churches and a castle, topped by the Torre das Feiticeiras (witches tower).  Following Moorish occupation, it became a stronghold of the Knights Templar.  Strangely the fort now contains a small bullring, which comes into its own for the annual village celebrations.  The festive fireworks must be visible for miles.

The Guadiana from Monsaraz

Monsaraz, remote and interesting on a grey November day

From here the Guadiana continues north, swinging a right into Spain, through Badajoz and Merida, and is, sadly, lost to me.  This is, after all, my A-Z of Portugal.

If you would like to join Julie Dawn Fox’s My personal A-Z challenge, just follow the link or click on the banner below.  It doesn’t have to be about travel.  If your passion is food or books you can still join in.  We have an A-Z of Art on Alyson Sheldrake’s The Thought Palette and and lately an A-Z of Films by DML Designs.  Be as creative as you like.  Read my posts on my A-Z pages.  Hope you’ll enjoy!

A day with Flat Ruthie in Portugal and Spain

Who better than Flat Ruthie, with her keen observational skills, to accompany me on a short foray across the border?  For a number of years the snow white village of Sanlucar de Guadiana has been calling to me, across the still waters of the Guadiana.  The village of Alcoutim, on the Portuguese side, is blessedly peaceful, but I always wanted to look back at it.  Mission accomplished!  With a little help.

Alcoutim, with a little help from a friend

Just minutes later the breeze caught her and she’d fallen out of a tree!  She was gallantly rescued from the rocks by my husband, looking daggers at me.  It’s a good job a Flat doesn’t bruise easily.  Maybe a beach umbrella would be a better option?  Softer landings, anyway.

Johanna, am I quite safe here? And by the way, it prickles!

Into my pocket she went, just for a little while, so we could have a proper look around, without her blowing away.

Such a delightfully pretty place

Can I be in this one, Jo please? I just love castles.

Just a minute- what’s happening here?

Ah, now I understand. It’s a festival!

We chatted to a lovely local lady who explained that the village of Sanlucar and the village higher up the hill. El Granado, compete in a yearly festival.  The procession would be lead up the hill by the mayor, with a floral cross and a donkey, to a meeting place, where the fun would begin.  What luck!  I hadn’t known anything about it.

In all their finery.

Such a patient donkey! And such lovely little boys.

Side saddle and very elegant

Incognito?

Take me with you!

And then they were gone, and our lovely villager was heading off to get changed to join in the fun herself.  The village was effectively closed to business.  We waved to the ferryman and crossed back to Alcoutim, where we sat with a drink and watched as the procession slowly mounted the hill.

The riverside cafe at Alcoutim

Of course, Flat Ruthie wanted to see another castle and flirt with the fountains a little, but that was fine by me.

New fountains at Alcoutim

Castro Marim main square with church and castle

The orange blossom is choking me!

A drink before we climb those steps? Is my foot stuck?

But it wasn’t!  The funny thing was that we had gone to Castro Marim expecting a festival to be taking place, and with the promise of an Algarvian goat contest.  The place was quiet as can be.  Reading the leaflet later, my husband pointed out that the festivities were actually taking place in a village called Azinhal, “near to” Castro Marim.  Ah well- something for another trip.  All’s well that ends well.

Many thanks Big Ruth for loaning me your little gal, and for your wonderful idea.  To join in and read Flat Ruthie’s other adventures, you should contact Cardboard Me Travels.  She even ventures to Hartlepool marina you know.

D is for Dobry (good)

The village of Poronin, on the way to Zakopane, Tatry Mountains

Dzień dobry  (good day or good morning) must have been the first piece of Polish I ever learned.  At the time I didn’t think about it too literally, being more concerned with how to say it. (dz is pronounced like the ds in odds, according to my text book)

It wasn’t until I came to say “good evening”- dobry wieczór– that I realised the significance of dobry, meaning “good”.   You have also dobranoc- “goodnight”.  Noc is night (pronounce the c as ts) and dobra is the feminine form of dobry.

Język polski, the Polish language, is Latin based and I knew I was starting to struggle when I came to do widzenia- “goodbye”.

From the text book:   dobry = masculine, dobra = feminine and dobre = neuter

So : dobry hotel (m), dobra książka (f) and dobre mieszkanie (n)

Good hotel, good book and good flat

In conversation, I kept hearing dobrze and dobra, appearing to mean “good” as in “ok” or “alright” but hadn’t a clue when to use which.  You’ve realised by now that I do a lot of head nodding and smiling, with a bemused expression, when in Poland.

Just to prove that I have applied myself a little, I thought it would be fun to do a Polish question and answer exercise, using photographs.

Co to jest? (What is this?)  To jest moja rodzina (This is my family)

Only a small portion of them, you understand!  Lynne and George, who live in Canada, were visiting the Tatry Mountains with us for the occasion of Adam and Marta’s Silver Wedding.  Arek is having a little fun with Lynne’s heavy handbag, containing the camcorder (out of shot).

Co to jest? (What is this?)  To jest Balon Widokowy (This is a hot air balloon- literally a “balloon with a view”

On the same holiday, Adam was keen for us all to take a ride in the Balon, soaring over Kraków from the banks of the River Vistula.

Co to jest?  To jest kościół (This is a church)

Older churches are very beautiful in Poland.  This one is similar in style to the one in Poronin where Adam and Marta reaffirmed their wedding vows.

Kto to jest? (Who is this?- spot the change?)  To jest Irena, moja kuzynka (This is Irena, my cousin)

I’m not going to get grammatical here.  Irena is my lovely cousin and the wife of Arek, who was clowning around in the group photo earlier.  They have two great youngsters, Robert and Weronika, and this is taken on their patio in Bełchatów.  Arek runs a market garden and they have a shop to sell the produce and seeds in the town market.  The handsome stranger is, of course, my Dad.  Click here to read his wonderful story.

Kto to jest?  To jest Jadwiga, moja kuzynka (Jadzia)

Me, Dad and Jadzia in her garden in Zawady.  I really am spoilt for lovely cousins.  Jadwiga and husband Andrzej have a daughter Ania and son Krzysztof.  Ania and her husband Hubert have a lively toddler Kinga, and their own self-contained flat in Jadzia’s home.  Krzysztof works in Reading with his wife Marzena.  We attended both of their weddings.

I guess it’s appropriate that Dad is heading back to Poland today and will see all of these and more.

I can’t complete this post without referring to my cousin, Dominik.  When I was considering the options for “D” he was heavily on my mind.  He died recently in tragic circumstances, still a young man, and his loss is heavily felt by the family.  Dad will be going to the cemetery to pay his respects, to Dominik and to all of the family who have gone before.

To end on a lighter note, has anyone told you about Polish cake, ciastko?  I need to say only that it is bardzo dobry– very good.  Bardzo dobry indeed.  Dad will be eating lots!

Polish cake. This is shop bought. The homemade variety is even more delicious.

Googling “dobry” (as you do?) I came across an artificially intelligent “chatbot” of the same name.  I could download him and just natter away, or even teach him simple foreign phrases.  I ask you- does that seem probable?  He’d be sure to prove more intelligent than me.

This post forms part of my personal A-Z of Poland, inspired by Julie Dawn Fox.  Follow the link, or click on the banner below, to read some very interesting posts from all around the world.  I may be late with my responses to any of you who are kind enough to read this, as I’m out of circulation for a week or so, but I will assuredly be back.  I just had to post it now because it was churning inside me.

F is for Fonte (fountain or spring)

Fonte in Largo do Carmo, Lisbon- from Wikipedia, by Rui Pedro Carvalho

There is an astonishing array of beautiful fountains adorning Portuguese towns and villages. Here are just a few I can’t resist sharing.

Fonte de Toural, Guimaraes- from Wikipedia,

Fonte do Idolo, Braga- Nabia, goddess of rivers and water- from Wikipedia

Fonte de Agua Ferreas, Braga- from Wikipedia

Fonte da Rua de Bonjoia- from Wikipedia, by Antonio Amen

Fonte de Leoes (lions), Porto- from Wikipedia, by da Sousa

Fonte de Sao Bento, Corticeiro de Carapelhos, Mira- from Wikipedia, by Jose Olgon

Azulejo, Fonte de Sao Bento

Fonte do Rossio, Lisbon- Creative Commons

Varied aren’t they?  There are hundreds I could have shared.  Do you have a favourite?  I think probably the last one’s mine, but I love Nabia too.  I also came across the term “chafariz” in relation to fountains and am not sure if this refers to a specific type.  Maybe my Portuguese friends can help me out with this?

The word “fonte” appears in many place names in Portugal.  In fact, when we’re directing people to our home in Tavira, we tell them to turn off the E125 at the roundabout signed Fonte Salgada.  In this sense it relates to a natural spring.

Fonte Pequena, Alte

My first sighting of natural springs here in Portugal was in the village of Alte.  Fonte Pequena (little spring) and then Fonte Grande (large spring) and the surrounding lush greenery came as a complete surprise.  It seemed a world away from the Algarve to which I was used.  Alte is described in detail in my Personal A-Z of Portugal, but I came across a lovely snippet of the poetry of Cândido Guerreiro, born in the village in 1871 and commemorated at the fontes:

“As the place where I was born lies encircled by four hills

Through which waters run singing

The songs of fountains and mills,

Waters taught me to speak.”

(Porque nasci ao pé de quatro montes

Por onde as águas passam a cantar

As canções dos moinhos e das fontes,

Ensinaram-me as águas a falar.)

I often go out with a walking group in the Algarve, or rely on a map and my husband, to find local beauty spots.  We found Fonte de Benemola, the Eternal Spring, one February day with the help of Julie Statham’s book, “Algarve-Let’s walk”.   The white faced cistus I love wasn’t yet in bloom and the valley was peaceful as can be, the fonte rippling silently in its depths.  On our way back to the car we spotted the solitary basket weaver, his wares strung along a reed fence.  He rather charmingly demonstrated his whistles and we purchased a small bowl.  A slightly wonky fruit bowl now sits on top of my fridge!

Fonte de Benemola, near Querenca

There is a wealth of natural springs in Portugal, some of which have been developed into health resorts.  The term “caldas” refers to thermal springs, as in Caldas de Monchique in the Algarve.  Further north, Caldas da Rainha (Queen’s hot springs) has had a thermal hospital since 1488, when Queen Leonor discovered the curative power of the waters.  Beautiful Sintra was also a spa.

Fonte in the back streets of Sintra

Spring water is a popular source for drinking water because of its relative purity and high mineral content, believed by many to have health benefits.  Just north of Coimbra, the small town of Luso is home to one of the most famous bottled waters in Portugal.  I seldom go walking without a bottle.

This post is part of my Personal A-Z of Portugal.  I’ve been following Julie Dawn Fox’s challenge for a while now.  If you’d like a look at what’s gone before, and maybe to join in with an A-Z of your own, please follow the links.  I need to catch up with my personal A-Z of Poland next.  See you next time.

Six word Saturday

A Wedding Invitation and a Hug

It’s no secret that I have a talented and very artistic daughter.  Her cards often arrive late, but are always a pleasure to receive.  The Easter card shown above brought particular joy because out of it slipped a small black invitation card.

 Lisa has led an often troubled life and has had much to overcome.  I am enormously proud of her, and can hardly wait for this most special of occasions.  Slight doubts though, as to what the mother of the bride wears to a Steampunk Wedding?  The honeymoon will be in Venice, for Carnavale, lucky girl.  To attend is a lifelong dream of hers.  I wish them all the love and luck in the world.

Lisa, my tea and cake girl, at home in Nottingham

As if this wasn’t enough to gladden my week, I have also been awarded a Hug from Francine in Retirement.   I’ve long been an admirer of Francine’s blog so was truly humbled to receive this nomination.  Not being sure of blog etiquette in this matter, I need to point out that I had previously been nominated for the Hug Award by Alyson Sheldrake of The Thought Palette.  On that occasion I wrote A hug a day in acceptance of the award, and nominated a couple of blogs.  I plan to extend that nomination today to:

Ana at 1001 Scribbles

Patti of Read Me

Elisa at Fun and Fabulousness

Sonel at Sonel’s Photographic Corner

All of these blogs give me enormous pleasure.  I should also say thank you to Conny on A Hope for Today who originated the Hug Award.

Please join me next week on Cate’s Six word Saturday and we’ll see just what the week’s brought.  You could even have a little fun and play too?

My travel inspiration

More excitement!  I’ve been nominated by Suzanne of the travelbunny to take part in Easyjet’s Inspiration Initiative.  Suzanne is a very well-travelled lady and I love her blog, so I musn’t let her down.  Inspiration to travel?  You only need to browse the current dazzling array of travel blogs.  Easyjet would like to know Who, What, When and Where are the inspiration for your travels?  There are prizes!

Who?  Like many others, I have a great fondness for Michael Palin and his gentle way of being in the world, interested but unobtrusive. (unless you count the camera crew, of course!)  His warmth and humour are ever-present, in sometimes quite trying circumstances.

Class 153, Michael Palin at
Cambridge, Wikipedia

I don’t imagine it was much fun battling altitude sickness in the Himalayas, and he’s certainly slept in some strange places.  Still, watching him on TV was the first time I can ever remember thinking “I want that job”.  I want to travel.  Why, he even has two trains named after him!

Living in hostel accommodation in London in my late teens, I explored back streets and wandered the riverside for hours.  I was besotted with the shiny city, so different from my quiet hometown.  Then one of my room-mates announced that she was emigrating to Australia.  The possibility had just never occurred to me!  Tempted though I was, I never made that leap, a new and lustrous relationship keeping me in place.  Who knows where I’d be today if I had, but I’ll never forget my inspiring, adventurous friend, Di.

London Town viewed from Greenwich Park

What?  It’s books for me, all the way.  I can never walk past the Oxfam shop in Durham without nipping upstairs for a peak at the travel section.  Before I know it I’m sunk in an armchair, with a heap before me on the coffee table.  Buddhist temples, multi-hued mountains, languid beaches- the world at my fingertips.

"Lumiere" 2011, Durham City

And planning?  I read everything related I can get my hands on.  I cannot bear to return from a trip and have somebody say “did you see…” and my answer be “no”.

Years ago I used to watch every episode of “A Place in the Sun”, riveted by the snippets of background on each of the destinations.  Every week I was “living” somewhere different.  Little did I think then that I’d fall in love with, nevermind buy, in Tavira, on the Eastern Algarve.

Ponte Romana and the skyline

When?  I still have home commitments and a husband who loves his work, or my gypsy caravan would have worn its wheels down long ago.  I always dreamed of owning a boat and following the coastline into infinity.  The nearest I’ve managed to date is gulet sailing in Turkey, and ferrying between the islands of Greece, but I’m still hopeful.  In the meantime, whenever I can get a well-priced flight the antenna start to quiver.

Where?  Many of my travels are centred in Portugal, but that’s no hardship.  It’s a beautiful country with one foot still a little bit in the past, and I like that.  From its vivid capital Lisbon, inland to the most wistful of castles at Almourel; from spectacular coastline to historic cities, there’s little that Portugal can’t supply.  I’m on a mission to see the Duoro valley this year.  You just can’t take the wanderlust out of Restlessjo, and I’m often to be found with my head in a travel guide.  Moorish Seville, Granada and Cordoba have surrendered, Jerez and Cadiz yet to be conquered.  Did somebody mention “Tall Ships” this year?  It must have been in the Easyjet magazine.

Real Alcazar gardens in Seville

My new found Polish family introduced me to a different culture, whose cities and landscape I find equally beguiling.  Krakow and the Tatry mountains certainly know how to inspire.  Nor can I discount the pleasure of walking on my native North Yorkshire moors, or a visit to my daughter in lively Nottingham.

Balon Widokowy (tethered hot air balloon) over Krakow

These days every morning presents a different trip.  I open up my emails and am transported to Anne Frank’s house in Amsterdam, or to play with traditional dolls in Japan, or climb the Great Wall of China.  How much have my blogging friends enhanced my world and inspired me!  Thank you all.

My 5 nominations are:

Have bag, will travel

Bringing Europe Home

Julie Dawn Fox in Portugal

A bit of culture

Travels of a Non Traveller

Good luck and happy travels folks!

K is for Kraków

I just know I’m going to struggle with this post.  I have so much affection and admiration for Kraków, and so many happy memories that keeping to a readable length may well prove impossible.

Woodcut of Krakow from the Nuremburg Chronicles,1493- from Wikipedia

Polish cities have had to be masters of the art of survival.  Nowhere is this better illlustrated than in Kraków, Poland’s ancient capital and seat of its kings for more than 500 years.  I was in love with this city from the first time I walked, arm in arm with my Aunt Anna, into Spring sunshine-filled Rynek Główny, the magnificent market square at the heart of Stare Miasto, the old town.

Rynek Glowny- from Wikipedia

I did not know then of the acid rain inflicted on the city by the post war communist regime.  The construction of Nowa Huta, the largest steelworks in Europe, on the city’s outskirts was intended to humble a proud, cultured city by grafting on a new working class.  If anything, it worked to strengthen anti-communist feeling, so that when opportunity presented itself, the steelworkers were quick to join Solidarity and agitate to overthrow their oppressors.

Kraków’s elegant buildings were little damaged by World War 2, since Hitler chose the city as his base of operations in Poland.  Yet a mighty struggle was needed to reverse the damage to the city and its inhabitants by the toxic chemicals from Nowa Huta.

None of this is apparent in today’s Kraków.  As I gazed in awe at the opulence and vast space of Rynek Główny, crowned by the Cloth Hall, Sukiennice, I was aware only of the gentle pressure of Anna’s arm.  I’m trying to discount the presence of the cameras that followed us- Dad’s story had attracted media attention back home.  https://restlessjo.wordpress.com/2011/10/24/exploring-the-polish-connection/ Flower stalls, candles and corn plaits filled the square with vibrant colour.  It was almost Easter and traditional circular bread rings were on sale.  My cousin Adam is a baker and it proved essential to sample these.

That day we didn’t linger, but I’ve returned many times since to Europe’s largest medieval market square.  I find it magical, with the gentle clop of horses’ hooves as the costumed drivers steer their carriages through strolling tourists.  Always, as the hour chimes, a cluster of people gaze skywards at the tallest tower of the Mariacki Church, St. Mary’s.  Legend has it that during a Tartar raid on the city in 1241, the watchman tried to sound the alarm from this tower.  He was cut short from his trumpeting by an arrow through the throat.  An hourly tribute to this moment ends mid phrase, then the trumpeter waves cheerily to the crowd, and lives to repeat his performance.

An altogether different performance takes place inside the Mariacki Church at noon each day. (Sundays and saints’ days excluded)   I found the cobalt blue ceiling with its panorama of stars and local artist Jan Matejko’s painted friezes truly beautiful, but it’s the opening of the high altar that draws the crowds.  Carved by Nuremberg craftsman Veit Stoss, from 1477 to 1489, it’s one of the finest examples of Gothic art in Europe.  The outer of the gilded limewood polyptych illustrates the life of the Holy Family.  With great pomp and ceremony the outer panels are drawn back to reveal six superbly colourful scenes from Christ’s life, while “sleeping” Mary is watched over by the Apostles.

Veit Stoss altar- from Wikipedia

You need to purchase a ticket to witness the opening.  A small ticket office in the adjacent square Pl. Mariacki opens shortly before each unveiling.

Back in Rynek Główny, the contrast with tiny St Adalberts, the oldest building in the square and the first church to be founded in Kraków, couldn’t be greater.  It’s serenely peaceful inside, and in the basement the original 10th century foundations are still visible.

St Adalbert's Church

The flamboyance of medieval Sukiennice constantly draws the eye.  It has to be the prettiest indoor market I have ever seen.  Inside the stalls are laden with amber and sparkly things, craftwork and woollens.  Heraldic shields sit high on the whitewashed walls, a reminder that the richest of cloth merchants once worked here.  In the cafes, under the arcades, writers and artists once met.  Now tourists are catered for, with inflated prices.  I prefer to sit at the edge of the square, looking in on an ever changing scene.

A bird’s eye view of the square can be obtained from the Ratusz, the lofty tower all that remains of a 14th century Town Hall.  It now houses a Tourist Information office, with useful maps detailing the many restaurants and places of interest.

Ratusz and Sukiennice

Twice I have eaten cake at no 15, Hotel Wierzrynek, Kraków’s oldest and most famous restaurant.  Charles de Gaulle, Steven Spielberg, Yehudi Menuhin- and me!  The grandest restaurant I’ve been in, other than London’s Ritz. www.wierzrynek.pl

Much simpler, but quite delicious, I found Chimera, at 3 Sw. Anny, just off the Rynek.  A pretty enclosed courtyard, offers buffet style with lots of choice, or you can eat in the classier basement restaurant if you can afford more than student prices. www.chimera.com.pl

Just around the corner lies Collegium Maius, part of the Jagellonian University, where Copernicus allegedly studied in the 16th century.  It surrounds an imposing courtyard.  Guided tours can be booked from a ticket office as lovely as any I have ever seen.

Collegium Maius

Florianska is one of my favourite streets.  Leading north from the Rynek, the architecture is powerful, old and new mingling with surprising ease.  High fashion hides behind grand old facades and at Jama Michalika, no 45, afternoon folklore shows take place in a cavernous interior.  Florianska Gate, at the end of the street, marks the edge of Stare Miasto.  Artists’ impressions hang on the old defensive walls of the city.  Once there were 3 kilometres of wall, 10 metres high and almost 3 thick, with 47 bastions.  Only Barbakan remains, a lonely giant.  The old town is surrounded by the green and leafy Planty, which follows the course of the old ramparts.

Florianska Gate

Heading south from the Rynek, Grodzka follows the traditional route of the Polish monarchs to the glory that is Wawel Hill.  Part of the old trade route to Hungary, it passes by the Dominican and Franciscan churches, and the mighty Basilica of SS. Peter and Paul.  Beckoning in the distance, the spires of Wawel Castle and Cathedral.

Wawel Cathedral

Wawel is the spiritual and patriotic heart of Poland.  Even after the capital was moved to Warsaw, Polish monarchs continued to be buried in Wawel Cathedral, along with many of the nation’s heroes and writers.  You will find as many Poles as foreigners looking around this awesome sight, justifiably proud of their heritage.  Pope John Paul 2nd, who gave his first mass as a priest there and became a much loved Archbishop of Kraków, described the cathedral as “the sanctuary of the nation”.  The first cathedral was built here around 1020, and fragments of the original can still be seen.  I never saw so many beautiful shrines in one space.  The largely Gothic Cathedral is as lovely outside as within.  It’s a bit of a scramble up Sigismund Tower to view the mighty bell “Zygmunt” and its four medieval companions, but the views are fine.

The magical view from Balon Widokowy at sunset

Wawel Castle spins a fairy tale if ever there was one.  One of my best memories is of viewing it from the sky in “Balon Widokowy”- a tethered hot air balloon on the banks of the River Wisła (Vistula).  The Castle was the royal residence until 1609.  The internal courtyard is immense.  Surrounded by 3 tiered arcades, it has the feel of an Italian palazzo.  The Royal Chambers are furnished in Renaissance style and contain 136 well-travelled Flemish tapestries from the 16th century.  At the outbreak of World War 2 many of the castle treasures were spirited abroad.  Just as well because occupation by Governor Hans Frank and his Nazi henchmen followed.  The tapestries were only partially recovered, many of them returning from Canada in 1968.

The castle courtyard. Below, frescoe detail

Tapestries on display in the Royal Chambers

Guest bedroom with the oldest of the tapestries and 18th century ceramic heater

Admission to the Royal Chambers is free on Sundays.  Separate tickets are needed for Castle and Cathedral and I could fully recommend the Castle tour.  Details on www.wawel.krakow.pl

Oh dear!  I’ve only just scratched the surface and I haven’t even mentioned Kazimierz, the charismatic Jewish Quarter.  Or the szopki, nativity scenes very special to Kraków.  Or Wieliczka– salt mines such as you’ve never seen, with salt crystal chandeliers.  Or the views from Kosciuszko Mound (don’t go on a hazy day, as I did!)  Or, more seriously, Auschwitz.

Just as well I can put these into other A-Z posts!  Meantime, for all the things I haven’t told you www.krakow.pl is an excellent site, with English version available.  Transport, what to see, events- it’s all there.

Kraków is an emotionally charged city for me and I hate it when I see it dismissed as “a venue for stag nights and hen parties”.  Having survived so much, I’m sure it can overcome this image.  Do go and see for yourself.

I’ll close with some Easter symbols: eggs, the candles bought for me in the Rynek by Aunt Anna and an Easter blessing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Few things stranger than life, and just after posting this I got a “shout” from Mark of Travels of a Non Traveller, who was in Krakow.  He has some great tips on free walking tours so just follow his link.

Six word Saturday

Flat Ruthie lights up my week

I always loved playing with cardboard cutout dolls when my daughter was small, so I was enthralled when I came upon the website Cardboard Me Travels, while indulging in a little armchair travel myself.

Flat Ruthie meets Snoopy and Old Bear

I hastened to http://cardboardmetravels.com/about/ to find out more, and in no time at all a pink envelope was slipping onto my doormat, all the way from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.  My introduction to Flat Ruthie was complete.

This young lady doesn’t like to stay in one place too long, her restless nature being on a par with mine, so it was off to Hartlepool marina on the first sunny day available.  Just look at that blue sky!

Flat Ruthie boarding PSS Wingfield Castle in Hartlepool marina

And "hanging out" with boats

I had great fun with “the shoot” and it made a lovely post. https://restlessjo.wordpress.com/2012/03/19/flat-ruthie-captures-hearts-in-hartlepool/ I couldn’t help but notice there were Six Words in the title.  Hmmm!

It didn’t end there.  Through the week Ruthie accompanied me to t’ai chi, Nordic walking (no suitable miniature poles for her, alas) and even zumba, making fans along the way.  She was even responsible for introducing me to Flat Stanley.

Flat Stanley, from Wikipedia

She also tweaked my memory and caused me to seek out another awesome blog http://themiddlestsister.com/ that takes me back to happy days playing with Fuzzy Felts.  The child in me is reluctant to take a back seat, and I am a lifelong Snoopy fan.  What better way to end this post.  Huge thanks to Flat Ruthie for brightening up my week. (And to “Big Ruth” of course- I’m sure she’s really not!- without whom none of this would be possible)

"Oh Snoopy, I love your nose"

Thanks also to Cate at http://www.showmyface.com/2008/01/six-word-saturdays.html whose blog I am just about to visit.  Why don’t you come too?  You might just get hooked.  Follow my other Six word Saturdays on the logo below.