Gertsamtkunstwerk

A holiday in Cyprus

In April, not long after I left my job, we went on holiday to Cyprus, to the small town, or village, of Kapparis, in the Paralimni area, not far from the border with Turkish Cyprus and Famagusta. Almost everything about the holiday was mediocre and adequate. A rented flat that was as advertised and met our needs, but with a distinct feel of shabbiness, cheap equipment, and a roomy but uncomfortable bed. There were several mediocre restaurants in the village, shops that met your basic needs (except that the bakery and highly-rated ice cream parlour immediately below our flat had closed down and was only reopening for summer on the day we left!). 

The beach near our flat was lovely, but I didn't take any photos! It was called Fireman's Beach. I can imagine it gets very busy in high season, but we never found it too much, except on the May Day Public holiday. In April, we were able to use the loungers and umbrellas for free.

It wasn't a great holiday but it wasn't in anyway awful .Nothing went wrong. We had ten or more days of glorious warm sunshine, and hired a car for three days when the weather wasn't so good - but good enough. There was only one meal that I could honestly say was uneatable, and there wasn't a single incident one could describe as unpleasant. I spent a lot of time on the beach, in and out of the sea, loving the sensual pleasure of swimming, or floating, or gently resisting the gentle current and negligible waves. When I wasn't in the sea, I was able to lie on my lounger reading my way through several books: 

• The Diaries of Nella Last: Writing in War and Peace
• Regeneration
• The Ties That Bind
• The Clothes On Their Backs
• A Greedy Man in a Hungry World: How (almost) everything you thought you knew about food is wrong

Oddly, I didn't take any photos on my first couple of days. Perhaps I remembered too many other holidays when I have spent the first few days snap happy, and, on reviewing the photos, have realised that most of them were repetitive or insignificant.

On the first evening we ate at Karas Village Taverna, one of the two better restaurants in Kapparis. We chose a fish mezze. Given the choice of medium or large, Jimmy chose large. Medium would have sufficed. Each course came so quickly that I felt rushed and didn't get round to photographing them.

The next day was a beach day; when we had finished on the beach I got very drunk  (by my current standards) on three cocktails and ate at Tony's Tavern. I suspect we didn't get it at its best; not yet geared up for the season, each of the dishes we initially ordered wasn't available. And it was far from exceptional.

The following day we walked almost to Pernera. That wasn't our intention, but nothing was open, even for coffee, once we had left Kapparis. We ended up in Onassis as the only customers. they suggested we went off menu, and Jimmy said that his lamb stew was his best meal of the holiday - it was what the owners (Mother & Son, I assumed) were having for their own lunch. I had a decent piece of fish.

Much later in the evening, we had quick plate of pasta at Just Italian which was flavoursome and nicely served. I actually got my camera out 

I don't really like doing a blogpost with so few photos and thought I might add a few random photos which might be my 'best from Cyprus'. But there aren't really any: not ones that I can publish without an explanation of them. 

After we got home we agreed that it wasn't by any means a horrible holiday, but it was a lot of money to pay for such mediocrity. I tried to like the landscape but I just can't. I wasn't sufficiently interested in any of the touristic or historic sites. And I didn't have a single meal that I thought was in anyway memorable; everything seemed dated and uninspired; every Cypriot style restaurant had just about the same menu, the same plain dishes and boring salad, or steamed vegetables, rarely with a sauce, and with no demonstration of the 'chef's' culinary skills or appreciation of ingredients. I guess they provide what they think the tourists want; perhaps that is what the tourists want, but when people have to eat out, they tend to take what's given and don't complain - it would be too rude - nor inform management of what is lacking. You order it, eat it and pay for it, because it's eatable and nutritious.

We concluded that we keep making the mistake of heading to Southern Europe in order to swim in the sea. But in every other aspect, we find holidays in Britain to be preferable - nicer beaches, much better food, and culture we're actually interested in, as well as trivial aspects such as having access to British TV.

Springtime in Wisley

Last year we went to Wisley as part of my own little Chelsea Fringe.

Getting there was quite a saga. You get a big discount if you travel by bus or bicycle. You have to be a brave cyclists or local, given that it lies just off the A3, a motorway-standard trunk road. I'm not sure I'd recommend the bus route we took from Esher. If you are travelling by bus, ensure you ask the driver to set you down for Wisley; repeat this request if the driver changes. Otherwise you'll end up in the village of Ripley, which is actually a very nice village, but too far to walk and you'll wait a long time for the next bus. You'll then have to walk up to the main drag, and I can't imagine anyone in management has actually done that, because it's not welcoming to pedestrian visitors - no signs and an enforced walk across a car park. So you arrive with a negative impression of the place which is hard to shake off.

Typical of many visitor attractions of its type:

• lots of people gathered near the visitor centre
• somewhat fewer in the formal gardens near the entrance
• even fewer in the more far flung places
• very few children and mainly well behaved, but those of that one Dad. He was brought up that Real Men are always active, he has no experience of quiet reflection, and can't see a lawn but assume it's specific sole purpose is for his children, always active never reflective, can run around screaming
• poor quality overpriced beverages in the catering establishments, made complacent by the lack of competition and the English middle class's complacent acceptance of rubbish. Pro tip: pop into Nest in Ripley before going to Wisley, or afterwards - the wait will be worth it.

Grumbling over, it was it was a lovely afternoon looking round the  beautiful gardens of RHS Wisley. We spent about three hours there including the beverage break. Surprisingly we walked only two miles, but there was a lot of the garden we didn't see. I took lots of photos!

NB I don't know the names of many flowers. A part of me feels that I ought to know more, but a larger part has accepted that, on the whole, I can't process and retain that information, and I don't believe it diminishes my enjoyment significantly - certainly I enjoy more not knowing the names than i would getting anxious trying to remember them! Se also: birds, trees.

 

So much colour, especially, but not exclusively, from the rhododendrons and azaleas and the plants round the lake.

       

And me

I know bamboo and alliums

 

Probably the best of the pelargoniums 

A glass house always fascinates with palms and succulents

   

I particularly liked this Flytrap

Back out into the wilder parts of the garden.

  

My favourite part of the garden was the Alpine area. I resolved there and then that if I was ever taken by an urge to garden myself, in addition to the obligatory herbs and vegetables, I would concentrate on Alpine flowers. I think I lived the exquisite detail in these miniature flowers. Maybe I have a bit of a 'thing' for miniaturisation.

          

And, to finish off, a pleasant aerial shot!

This post contains only a sample of the photos I took. Many more can be found in the Surrey photo album

Dunstanburgh Castle and The Links

Walking from Craster village to the ruined castle at Dunstanburgh is one of the recommended highlights of the area of Northumberland we visited last year.

The car park was busy when we arrived; we had to park in the third level up (not a multi-storey, but set on a hillside). 

The weather forecast was fine and warm, so I had decided to dress in a floaty, flowery summer dress. In the car I wore flipflop style flowery sandals (Doc Martens, as it happened, but no ankle support). I was amused when I got out of the car and outdoor types in nearby vehicles glared at me, and especially my shoes, and actively retracted their glares as I changed into padded socks and my proper Outdoor shop-bought walking boots. I thought to myself, 'this is walker's country'.

We walked through the village with its pretty harbour, and through a gate onto a seemingly long grassy walk up to the castle. There were a lot of people around; a few too many for my comfort.

To my surprise, by the time we reached the outskirts of the castle, the crowd had thinned down to almost nothing. It's about a mile from the village to the castle (and back again).

I do understand that can be challenging for some people. But I just don't get why the majority of people will drive to a car park, start a two mile return walk, and give up after just a couple of hundred yards. It's a phenomenon I notice over and over again, and I'll never get an explanation. Perhaps it's partly about footwear. A gentle walk on grass doesn't require walking boots, but it's going to hurt if you're wearing fashion or beach shoes!

The walk was along the coast, where sheep grazed on the rocks and cattle lay in the field.

  

We reached the castle and sat for a while, soaking up the warm sun. Very few people passed by.

 

We didn't go in the castle. It's a ruin, after all! It's managed by English Heritage and I've just read we could have entered for free with our National Trust membership. No regrets, though, we were heading for the beach.

We took the path less travelled below the castle, passing fertile fields and walking the edge of a golf course, as ugly as every other golf course, and used by fewer people than the walk to the castle.

 

The castle remained in sight.  

 

Build a castle on a cliff face - makes it even better defensively, and more difficult to attack.  Kittiwakes breed on the cliff face.

 

We reached the beach near Embleton and settled down to spend some hours there. I kicked off my walking boots and went for a paddle, resolving that within half an hour I would be swimming in the sea.

Within twenty minutes, the weather had changed. Clouds covered the sun and a breeze whipped up. I couldn't believe it. Not only was it no longer warm enough to swim in the sea. it wasn't that comfortable sitting on the beach. And even walking back the way we came wasn't that great. I wished that, for the small effort it would have required, I had carried a light cardigan to wear over my floaty flowery dress. I should know English summers well enough to know how the weather can change. 

We went to Alnmouth later but strangely I took no photos. Perhaps I had had my fill of sandy beaches. Photographically at least!

In the evening we ate at The Links in Seahouses. It looked unprepossessing from the outside. On the inside it looked dated, like an estate pub or an Eighties Labour Club (I read it's been refurbished since). I'm not sure whether it's directly connected with the local golf course or simply takes its name from there. In any case, my expectations were low.

The Links proved to be an excellent restaurant. Basically, they serve pub grub, but not fancied-up with the name 'Gastro'. I started with a deep fried Camembert. A bit 90s I suppose, but it's always been a favourite of mine and I wasn't disappointed by a huge and tasty serving. Look at that side salad. Judge a restaurant by the side salad it serves with its starter. This is a kitchen that understands good quality fresh ingredients presented in a way that stimulates appetite.

 

My main course was mushroom risotto, always a risk in an unfamiliar restaurant. It seems an easy dish to make, but have you noticed on Masterchef how often it goes wrong? This was flavoursome, a hearty stock and strongly flavoured mushrooms - and look at the elegance of the presentation with the Parmesan. Nothing poncey, but a bit of thought and care.

Oddly, this large portion of risotto came with added potato. I opted for chips. Lovely chips, look at them. Proper! But chips with risotto was a new one on me.

 

How can you resist chips like that?

I've looked at recent Trip Advisor reviews of this restaurant and, aside from the inevitable grumpy exceptions, everyone seems in agreement with me about the quality of this restaurant. and everyone has the same observation - huge portion size. I could not make room for pudding, a very unusual situation for me, and a TA reviewer made a similar remark. A pity, because the starter and main showed that this kitchen can cook - and from a business point of view, they're losing money - puddings often have big mark up, and people often order more drinks to go with pudding. 

We went back there on the Sunday, an early dinner, and like many other customers we were in a hurry for the Men's World Cup Final. Staff were obliging and understanding.

So, basically, my criticisms of this restaurant  - awful decor which has since been refurbished, and enormous portions!

Old photos, short stories: Maria La Gorda

In the far west of Cuba's Pinar del Rio province, across the Yucatan Channel from Cancun. When we visited, Cubans were not allowed to visit, except to provide lifts for visitors such as us. Beautiful beach.