A Funny Thing Happened...

by Helen Matthews

It happened in Harrogate. A car halted at the zebra crossing, music blaring at full volume from the stereo. An elderly man stepped onto the crossing, did a little dance to the throbbing beat, grinned, waved at the driver, and shuffled off on his way.

We were not supposed to be in Harrogate. We had not planned an exact itinerary for our driving tour of Yorkshire and Northumberland, though we had worked out a rough list of places we might visit. However, wet weather had dampened our enthusiasm for the water gardens at Studley Royal, and Neil refused point blank to go to ‘James Herriot World’ at Thirsk. So we had decided to break our journey north at Bettys Tea Room [and no, dear reader, there is no apostrophe in ‘Bettys’ – Ed.] in order to plan our next move. This holiday was in the nature of an experiment. It was the first time that either of us had spent our main holiday in England for about twenty years and we were not sure how it would work out.

Little Bettys Cafe, York

Tea shops were to be something of a recurring theme during the trip. This was partly because they offered a refuge from the rain of an English summer, but also for novelty value since, National Trust properties excepted, tea shops are a rarity in Buckinghamshire where we live. We had earlier sampled ‘Little Bettys Café’ in York, but the Harrogate branch was the original home of the ‘Swiss-Yorkshire’ business. In Yorkshire and Northumberland we were to find a huge variety of tea shops.

As a contrast to the slickly efficient and excellent (but pricey) Bettys, there was the cosy ‘Grannies’ in Alnwick, hidden away in a basement, with home-made cakes and an interesting style of décor, complete with the eponymous relative’s bloomers hanging from an drying rack. The Tea Cosy in Alnmouth was not quite so quaint, but had delicious home baking. I was reassured to hear a customer who asked for carrot cake being informed that the last slice had just been sold, but that there was another one in the oven. The National Trust tea room at Cragside had hungry ducks outside. The Lakeside café at Castle Howard had aggressive hungry ducks outside. The tea room in the main house had aggressive hungry ducks and hungry peacocks which were clearly learning their technique from the ducks. And excellent home-made coffee and walnut cake that was far too good for ducks or peacocks.

Hungry peacock, Castle Howard

But tea shops were not the only recurring theme. Northumberland’s history of border skirmishes with the Scots left a lasting legacy on the landscape. The Northumberland County Council’s tourist leaflet lists fourteen castles (not counting the Berwick town walls). In order to avoid castle fatigue we attempted to limit ourselves to an average of one castle a day. This policy did rather remind me of a more than usually vacuous tour rep we once encountered in Florence, who remarked that “there are more than forty museums in Florence, but we recommend that you go to two of them”, though. The castles of Northumbria range from romantic ruins to stately homes via an Edwardian country retreat. The most famous is probably Alnwick, the home of the Percy family since the fourteenth century, and more recently seen on screen as Hogwarts. The cardboard cutouts of Harry Potter were fortunately not too intrusive, though I would have liked to buy one of the broomsticks on sale in the gift shop. Externally, Alnwick looks very much the medieval castle, but inside, the state rooms, redesigned in the nineteenth-century, are those of any grand stately home, though the table football table and bean bags in the library remind visitors that it is still very much a home.

The Duchess’ famous gardens will no doubt be impressive when they are finished, but our enjoyment was rather marred by the fact that much of the site was still under construction. I saw Alnwick described on one website as ‘the Windsor of the North’, which is neither an accurate nor, in my opinion, a desirable comparison. Alnwick is smaller, friendlier, cheaper, and despite the Potter connection, less crowded than Windsor.

Lindisfarne Castle

Bamburgh Castle is another example of the stately home interior, with a good collection of fine porcelain on display, but is situated in a rather bleaker position by the coast (at least it was bleak the day we visited, in July).

Lindisfarne castle is very different. Lindisfarne was an early seat of Christianity, and despite its key location the castle was not built until the sixteenth century, after the dissolution of the monasteries. It was bought at the turn of the twentieth century by Edward Hudson, the founder of Country Life magazine, who employed his friend Edwin Lutyens to turn it into a holiday home, complete with garden designed by Gertrude Jekyll. As castles go, it is small and rather homely.

Warkworth castle is conveniently located at the end of Warkworth’s main street. But from its other aspects it commands views of the sea and the river Coquet. Now a ruin, enough remains to trace different periods of building, including the new fourteenth-century keep, which formed a castle within the castle. Like Alnwick, Warkworth belonged to the Percy family and bears the family emblem of a lion, though rather the worse for wear. Other romantic ruins such as Dunstanburgh and Edlingham we saw only from a distance as a result of our castle limitation policy.

I must not mislead you. We managed to find time to see some other attractions than castles and tea shops. By my count we also visited, in the space of 9 days, five historic houses, ranging in size from Washington Old Hall to Castle Howard, two cathedrals, one Minster, two abbeys, three parish churches and a priory. Yet despite this apparently hectic schedule we did not feel rushed, as we came and went as we pleased. We even found time to spend a morning in the huge second hand bookshop in Alnwick, which had the added delights of comfy chairs, coffee and biscuits, and a model railway running round the top of the bookshelves (no bookshop should be without one).

Workhouse Museum, Ripon

We also saw a few less obvious attractions, which we encountered by chance. Harrogate, with its dancing pensioner, was followed by Ripon, where we discovered a Workhouse Museum where we were invited to smell the authentic carbolic soap, and a Police Museum, where we could try on police helmets and convicts' uniforms. The former I found particularly interesting as I was born in a workhouse (well, it had been converted into a hospital maternity ward by then, but they still had to lock the doors at night to keep out vagrants who had not heard about the change of use). In Malton we found Eden Camp, a former World War II prisoner of war camp that has been turned into a museum about the war. Here, we were able to experience the blitz, or living conditions on a German U-Boat.

Despite the weather, we felt that the experiment had been a success. We might well holiday in England again. We never did make it to James Herriot World.


First published in VISA issue 58 (December 2005)

Java Heaven and Hell

by John Keeble

I glimpsed heaven and, in the pre-dawn blackness, got a whiff of hell in this earthly paradise living on borrowed time in the Ring of Fire.

Here, on a plateau in central Java, I was finding what I had travelled so far to see: the birthplace, maybe, of the great religious-political civilisations of South East Asia – this was the site of the oldest known Hindu temple on the island. And, as a bonus, I was getting the chance to live in an area where the ground opens up every now and again in explosions of volcanic steam and gasses and the sulphur lingers in the air as a constant reminder of the violence below.

Yeah, but this great quest was just an excuse, wasn’t it? All you really wanted was to tramp through somewhere exotic, take lots of photographs that you don’t really need, and have the excitement of getting up close and personal with some volcanic stuff?
“That’s a bit harsh. I know we’ve both read the same psychology book* but I wouldn’t interpret my travel experience quite like that.”

This was Dieng, an area in the middle of the island. It is richly fertile with three major crops of potatoes, cabbages and carrots a year grown on the terraces reaching towards the sky. It was richly fertile, in another way, in the 7th century when the first of maybe 400 temples was built there: Hindu creations reaching towards the gods like today’s money-making terraces.
If that pleased the gods at first, it did not last. Their pleasure turned to anger; the ground shook, the temples were destroyed and the people took their faith to safer places - the plains around Mount Marapi, today one of the most active volcanoes in the world, where Java’s temple-building civilisations grew in the then Buddhist Borobudur and Hindu Prambanan. And from there they exported the lessons of power underpinned by religious inevitability to Angkor in Cambodia.

On the Dieng plateau, the religious community declined, the agrarian pursuits continued over the centuries, the ground shook and flooded at times and the people used the temple stones for their own domestic needs. The Hindu gods were all but forgotten as Allah became the power in the land.

Good stuff, but admit it, the psychology book was right: you were just there for the action and the excitement. The travel was the end in itself – the rest is just window dressing for anyone taken in by it. Right?

“Well, maybe. But I can’t help wondering how many other Travel SIG members are just like that too.”

If my camera twitched at the thought of all that interest, it was nothing compared with the great photographic/archaeological expedition by the Dutch artist and photographer Isidore Van Kinsbergen, who lived on the island. He was given an official commission and set off for what turned out to be a four-year project in the middle of the 19th century.

He drained the land at Dieng and uncovered the temples… so he could photograph them. Today you can see these five Shiva temples, along with a few others including one dated at its site as 7th century (although most of the 400 temples were built in the 8th and 9th centuries).
Van Kinsbergen got there first, by only a century and a half, but I wanted to do much the same route as his expedition, though with a little more speed both in transport and in photography. His intention was to present Javanese art; and mine was to look for visual links with Angkor where the Khmer empire elaborately sustained a million people when London was a primitive sprawl. Dieng was the first stage. The other two were the tourism honeypots of Borobudur, the massive Buddhist temple, and Prambanan, an area of Hindu temples dating back to the 8th century.

So what’s your take on the book. How does it link with Travel SIG?

“It takes a close and educated look at the four temperaments that psychology and social thinkers have written about since Hippocrates. And a careful reading of it rather sorts out the travellers from the arrivers, the stayers from the goers (in the ‘going’ sense, not the way we used it in the 60s …)”

Lonely Planet thinks Dieng is the ‘remote’ Abode of The Gods, as its name may mean, but it took only a day to get there with lucky connections – an easy airport taxi ride from Yogyakarta airport to the right bus terminal; and then four buses, one tiny and crammed with 12 Moslem women, three girls, one wide-eyed boy, my bags and, taking more space than any other two there, me. The long climb up to Dieng plateau, more than 2,000 metres above sea level, in the next bus was not a joy – I had arrived at the bus’s jump-off point, Wonosobo, as everyone in the universe wanted to get home and had chosen the same bus. But arriving in the quiet, friendly Dieng village certainly was a pleasure.

Good connections? You planned the journey well, then?

“Ah, not exactly. I did look at the map in the airport just before flying to Yogyakarta but it was 5am and I hadn’t got my glasses to hand. Anyway, I told the taxi desk at Yogya airport I was going to Dieng, a bit past Borobudur, and could they take me to the right bus station. It was easy.”

And then you looked at the book and worked it all out?

“Oh, yes, of course. A little list. But the routes had all changed and it wasn’t any good anyway so I just went with the flow; seemed to be a good idea at the time.”

Dieng plateau is the caldera of a collapsed volcano, at one time marshy but now it is threaded with plastic arteries, crossing fields and roads, to carry water to the crops. Its villages include the highest in Java and some people measure that village’s wealth by claiming it sends more of its residents to Mecca than any other Indonesian village.

The plateau is still an active volcanic area with craters all over it, some filled with waters that sparkle blues, greens and yellows when the light catches the impurities bubbling up, some boiling and emitting steam all the time, two that had exploded in the past few months… a blast of rocks, boiling water and steam at one; and an explosion destroying everything around and throwing up a huge gout of mud at the other.

Locals are not averse to showing the volcanic sights to tourists, mostly Indonesians when I was there, but they do not treat the earth with complacency. Too many people have paid the price, even recently, like the man walking to a boiling water crater who stepped off the main way, fell through the crust and got his legs cooked; and the four agricultural workers who got showered with hot mud in the explosion just 10 days before I was there… and the horrifying death, suicide apparently, at the latest steam and boiling water crater that exploded early in 2009.

So the book says … what?

“It names the four temperaments after four Greek gods. It seems that I’m a Dionysian temperament: action for the sake of it, nothing too much trouble or hardship because it’s all compulsive play, no need to have an outcome or product: it’s travelling not just for the sake of travelling but because I can’t help it.”

On the plateau, as the earth threatens so it blesses: 46 wells, some nearly 3km deep, tap and control steam that drives the electricity generators; and the volcanic earth, the product of millennia, is making many of the locals rich, in Indonesian terms, from endless crops. Of course, the endless use of pesticides is also probably killing them but no one seems to worry about that slight drawback.

I explored this earthly paradise of plenty on the back of a motorcycle ridden by young Dwe (‘Doowee’), who worked at the Bu Djono losmen – my vote for the friendliest guesthouse of the year – who quickly understood that between places to stop I liked to ride, paparazzi-style, with my hands free and my camera machine-gunning the locals.

Eventually, after our 4am start, our ride through the pre-dawn countryside and a hike up the local mountain to see the sunrise (no, not obligatory, not really… but…) we got to the temples.
The visual similarities to Angkor, and to Bagan in Burma, seemed striking, almost those temples in miniature as I began snapping away with the intention of making comparisons when I got back to my hard-disk base in Thailand. I expected to find some more echoes at Prambanan and Borobudur, though exact linkages abroad were looking less likely and the obviousness of Indian influence – there and in Angkor - was shadowing what I was doing.
Maybe someone has already earned a doctorate uncovering the links. Maybe I’ll track them down. The fascination is not just with the temples: it is the very idea of so effectively using the religious power to drive the social power of the rulers. With the temples today, we are looking at the physical foundations of a civilisation’s power – at one time unshakeable, but something happened in Java and the whole edifice crumbled; and in Cambodia the foundations were first shaken by the Chams capturing Angkor Wat and, a couple of centuries later, a decline slumped into abandonment.

So now you think all SIG members are puppets of given temperaments?

“I’ll get to that. Let’s have a look first at what the book’s authors – when they weren’t writing they were training therapists and diagnosticians in dysfunctional behaviour at California State University – have to say about the Dionysians and see if it resonates with any other SIG members.”

Not far from the five Dieng structures, in an immaculate museum, temple artefacts and building materials lined walls covered with drawings and photographs illustrating the plateau’s incredible past. Among the Shiva exhibits, there was a unique Nandi bull with the body of a man.

Back at the Bu Djono, over hot ginger tea, history was also at the forefront. A different time period: World War Two. The other guest there was Sofia, who had the mind and heart of a 25-year-old but who had turned 70 earlier in the year. She was back in Java for a visit after an adult life spent mostly in her native Holland. She had been captured with her parents by the Japanese and had spent time, as a very young girl, in a Java prison camp before being sent with her parents to Thailand and ending up helping the sick and injured on the Burma Railway. Isn’t it amazing who you meet when you are travelling?

OK, I’m getting bored with the psycho stuff. Give me the golden highlights of the Dionysian temperament and how they touch sides with travellers. Then I want to know about the other three temperaments.

“The Dionysian temperament is all about action for its own sake and enjoyment. Risk, excitement, crisis… these are music to the ears of this type. When something gets them going, they don’t see it as work or something to be suffered before arriving at some place – they just keep going, not even enduring hardship because to them it is just part of the whole adventure to be enjoyed with the rest.”

The next day, Dwe and I stalked the locals on a wider motorbike safari through the plateau, on high roads looking down, on low roads looking up, but always seeing terrace after terrace of potatoes, sometimes cabbages, occasionally chilli bushes and, somewhere maybe, carrots.
We stopped at a hot spring, 5km from a crater where the run apparently starts, and the local villagers were stripping off for their baths, scented soap masking the sulphur in the water. “You want to photograph them?” asked Dwe, no longer surprised at anything. Er… no, not this time. “Oh, it is not polite,” he explained thoughtfully to himself. I agreed and we ambled on our way.

Dionysians sound like thoroughly irritating travelling companions.

“I think so. For about two-thirds of the people – the authors put the Dionysian population at about 38%, but they are Americans so it might be different in British Mensa. On the plus side, the Dionysian is a sharing kind. Whatever’s going, it’s for sharing. On the negative side, that includes 15-hour days, getting up at 4am and missing a meal rather than a bus.”

Next day, I did what a lot of the royal and religious community of Dieng did in the 8th century… I decamped to lower ground. The Dieng Hindus, apparently, went straight to Prambanan and started building again but my first stop was Borobudur to see one of the greatest Buddhist temple structures in the world.

The temple was magnificent, awe-inspiringly huge, beautiful in its detail… but for me, that day, there was a deadness about it, a flat feeling of being there without meaning. Like a castle in Europe, the bones of a fish whose cultural water had evaporated.

I was left pondering how Angkor could be so alive while this one was so vacant despite the excited Indonesian children and a smattering of low-season foreigners scampering for just the right camera angles.

Maybe the difference is the way that the people use the complexes. Angkor is in a living Buddhist society, out of time maybe but not out of cultural place and still alive with prayers and offerings … Borobudur is a relic of a dead civilisation that once, more than a thousand years ago, lived by Buddhist beliefs, and today it is 53,000 cubic metres of rock-solid tourist attraction in a friendly, easy-going Muslim society.

Not everyone, including local people and the million visitors it receives each year, would agree with me on this (now that’s a surprise, isn’t it?) One of the boys at my losmen lent me his Borobudur school textbook and the authors wrote in their preface: ‘Some moments in life make one feel as if there were no longer any distance between heaven and earth, and in the creative blending into the whole, the sense of life is being revealed. Such an emotion is experienced when one ascends the stairs of Borobudur, Buddhist marvel of stone, in a full tropical moonlight.’

I think maybe I will pop back next May for dawn sun, a full moon and hopefully more of a feeling of heaven and earth as one of its annual rites is celebrated.

And the other three temperaments. What are they? What do they tell SIG members about their travelling needs?

“The Epimetheans, who take 38% of the population; the Prometheans, who account for 12%; and the poor old Apollonians, who no one understands, including themselves, and who make up the balancing 12%. Apparently. According to the authors, though the figures look suspiciously balanced to me.”

The Borobudur statistics, like the architecture, are staggering: built around a natural hill, there are six square levels crowned with three round levels and a giant stupa. The base is about 120 metres square; the original height of 42m has been reduce to 31.5m after lightning strikes, volcano subsidence and rebuilding; it was made from 53,000 cubic metres of andesite (volcanic) stone in 2 million blocks, maybe 3.5 million tons; it has 72 trellised stupas containing single Buddha images, four galleries with 1,300 pictures along a total length of 2.5km; 1,212 decorative panels; and its base and hidden footing is made from 13,000 cubic metres of stone with 160 hidden reliefs.

Plus, of course, the headline statistic of more than 500 Buddha images (including the 72 in stupas) in styles of six mudras. It can be entered from the cardinal points but the east gate is regarded as the main entrance with the “unique harmony” of Buddhas exhibiting mixed mudras.
No one really knows how the civilisation was organised but Borobudur was built over perhaps 140 years in the 7th and 8th centuries, when the Buddhists ruled in central Java and the Hindus held sway in east Java. As I worked into it, I had to conclude that the tantalising possibility of tying them to Angkor and even Bagan looked like a lot more work than snapping a few carved stones at Dieng.

Let’s start with our Epimethean members. What do they want?
“They live to be useful, apparently, and so I expect they are well represented in the volunteering places around the globe. Epimetheus himself married Pandora, who opened her box and let all manner of ills into the world – airport taxi drivers, souvenir sellers, never-closing bars, credit card companies and holiday brochure designers. But he stood by her, a solid worldly-wise god who leads rather than follows, who is reliable rather than irresponsible.

“They are the opposite of the Dionysians: the Epimetheans favour work over play every time. They also have to belong, earning their place and keeping it by care and effort, usually in hierarchies that maintain the social order. They like titles, uniforms and organisation.

“Oh, one other thing. The Dionysians always expect everything to turn out OK … the Epimetheans definitely don’t. They think if something can go wrong, it will (and I guess they are often right). They are the Scouts who always need to be prepared. Conserving the past, helping anyone in need, making sure they never let down anyone. Taking a spare pair of underpants when travelling. Thoroughly good people, I’d say.”

For the traveller, there’s at least another day in Borobudur village. First, there are two more temples built around the same time as the great temple and linked to it in geography and use.
And then there are the local attractions for those who want more than the tourist gloss. How excited do you get about seeing how to make tofu or glass noodles? I got quite excited.
First the tofu factory. All clinically clean, sterile, gleaming steel surfaces, glowing hands washed every few minutes… if you believe that, you’ll believe anything. If was fascinating, nonetheless, and Mr Wen (Mr ‘Won’), the good-natured tofu maker, just carried on working as I danced around him to document the process. Glass noodle making was another education. Both processes were kept local and started with local produce (though the tofu maker could use American soya beans to order; they were cheaper but inferior to local beans).
Next morning the nice people at the Lotus 2 losmen – where I had the equivalent of a suite for £10 a night including breakfast – ran me up to the bus station on one of their motorbikes… and the Prambanan leg began without any real idea about how to get there.

OK, you don’t need to say that. We know you’re a Dionysean and don’t bother with finding out where you’re going. What about the other temperaments?

“The Prometheans look interesting. They like to get control over the natural world, so the authors say. Some of the sub groups of this temperament really go through it because there are so few of them – bit like having a Mensa IQ at the parish council meeting.

“These are the scientists who need to understand, predict and control Nature (though not necessarily people). They are self-critical to the point of being manic and they don’t take kindly to criticism of their ability to perform whatever tasks they have set themselves.

“So good travel planners, probably. I bet they actually like timetables, assess natural hazards, love multiple currency exchange calculations and probable count the bacterial content of the hotel breakfast. And the Prometheans apparently keep score on excellence, maintaining huge lists in their heads, so choice of hotels and restaurants should be easy. As long as you do what they tell you.

“One drawback: they don’t take other people’s word for anything. They have to work it out and prove it for themselves. So no easy guide book routes for them. And even play is work for them. It has to be done correctly for the maximum benefit. And they worry all the time that they are not doing things as well as they should… If you really want to punish Epimetheans, say the authors, compel them into idleness… like sitting on a beach for endless sunny hours…”

As it happened, the journey to Prambanan confirmed what I was already thinking. The Java bus system is run by pros and they don’t let little hiccups like lack of language interfere with getting you to your destination. The key is the private company nature of the bus operators. Everyone wants your business if they are plying the route you need. And fares are so low that western people find them hard to comprehend: more than 20 miles on two air-conditioned buses between Yogya and Prambanan for 3,000 rupiah (20p).

Then I really splashed out. After my 3,000 rupiah bus ride, I paid 60,000 rupiah for a horse-drawn cart to take me around the hotels until I found one I liked. Some could not care less if I took a room, one (the Lonely Planet-quoted Prambanan Imbah) refused a vegetarian breakfast and looked relieved when I left but the Botan hotel was perfect… new, its owner eager to get some business in low season and nothing too much trouble, including running me into the village in her car while someone else fixed up her bike for me to borrow for the rest of my stay.
There is a lot to see at Prambanan and, while I was there during October, not too many people trying to see it. Maybe that and the kind sun gave me an enthusiasm lacking at Borobudur.
It was there that I finally caught up with the past. I was idling in Prambanan temple museum a few days later when I met the resident historian, Mr Sugiyanto, who filled me in with the links between Dieng, Prambanan and Angkor Wat: the world’s biggest temple was a goodwill gesture by the Javanese king, according to Mr Sugiyanto.

And the Apollonians? How are you going to describe them if no one understands them?

“No problem. If I get it wrong, no one will know because even the Apollonians don’t understand themselves. It seems their goal in life is the search for themselves, the real, deep-down selves – becoming what they are without actively going about it because that would change their real intrinsic selves. Or something like that.
“This search for self can make an Apollonian wander through life, spiritually, psychologically, geographically. So maybe good, if tortured, travellers.

“The greatest fear is to be lost in the airport crowd without self identity, not for others’ sake but for the sake of self. There can be no masks, no lies, no deceptions; there must be integrity in a life where being false would be the loss of self. Their idealism leads them into ways of inspiring others, creating crusades even, and they are happy teaching, understanding and empathising with others.

“Many people journey to find themselves. But maybe each journey is another hope for the Apollonians. I just hope they don’t find themselves in some of the places I’ve pitched up in. It could be the end of hope as they know it.”

By that stage of the journey, in the way of Indonesia, I had given up any idea of sleeping after 4am and by 6am on my second day in the area I had walked a kilometre or more from the hotel to the Prambanan temple group – huge structures dedicated to Shiva, Brahma and Vishnu plus smaller shrines for their carriers. Nandi, the bull that carried Shiva, was the only one still in the shrine.
The construction of this group of temples – probably numbering around 250, almost all now gone – was undertaken in the 9th century, 50 years after Borobudur, some two centuries after the first brick of the first temple was laid at Dieng, and around the time that the Khmers started using Cham craftsmen and Hindu ideas for temples and power. The first serious reconstruction attempts were made at Prambanan as other civilisations, from the East and the West, were being swept towards the Second World War.

But for the far-off muted traffic noise, I could have imagined that I and one of the temple sweepers were the only people on the planet. It was wonderful. The sun edged round a threatening cloud and lit up the whole site. Half an hour later, the number of visitors trebled when two Indonesian men sauntered in, using their mobile phones as cameras.

Then, some time and some scores of photographs later, more men arrived. They did not seem like they wanted to obey the signs and stay out of the areas being reconstructed. Oh well, if the locals could do it… 15 very pleasant minutes later I realised they were, er, the renovation workmen but no one said anything and I wandered on my way. Later I noticed the gate had been chained.

The fact that no one threw me out chimes with the idea of Indonesians always trying to avoid confrontations – said to get out of hand very quickly if they do occur – and may have been influenced by my friendly smiles and greetings to everyone I encountered (the owner of the Lotus 2 losmen had explained earlier that the Indonesians have three tones in their verbal exchanges: a low tone for children, a slightly higher tone for equals, and a slightly higher still tone for showing respect and for addressing older people. My voice naturally falls into the tone for showing respect, which pleased him enough to cause him to explain it to me).
There is quite a lot of work going on at Prambanan temples, partly because the huge restoration job being undertaken but also because in May 2006 an earthquake caused a lot of damage.

Both Prambanan – which has four groups of temples around the area – and Borobudur have long histories of restoration efforts with Unesco World Heritage Site backing. They also share the local volcano, Marapi, and the same earthquakes. And, of course, almost all of the same visitors. If the visitors include you, just jump on your borrowed or rented bike and enjoy it!

OK, you’re back at your base with your pix and hard disk library – got the Dieng-Angkor links all worked out?

“Not yet but I definitely will work it all out. When I get time. But I’ve been really busy. And on the way back from Java I was reading the Air Asia inflight mag which was describing its new route to southern China. They have a panda conservation area there. And lots of other amazing things…"

*Please Understand Me: Character & Temperament Types, by David Keirsey and Marilyn Bates (Prometheus Nemesis Book Company, ISBN 0-9606954-0-0)… courtesy of a travelling friend who thought I probably needed it more than she needed to lug it back to London.


First published in VISA 88 (Dec 2009)

Images of Cuba

By Wendy May

Arriving at Havana, I knew that this holiday would be an experience. After the long queue for passport control and making sure I didn’t get a stamp in my passport (not my usual behaviour!) it was off to baggage reclaim: two carousels, old and squeaky, both in use in a small room, along with helpful staff off loading cases into a corner. Not knowing where to look first I decided to change some money at the small exchange desk before the queues formed. There is dual currency in Cuba: the Convertible Pesos (which used to be $US equivalents) and the local currency peso cubana, which is worth significantly less and which can only be spent in local peso shops and markets.

I was on a walking tour from Vinales in the west of the Cuba to Baracoa in the east ending in Havana. Looking back, the highlights of the tour, and hence my images of Cuba are not necessarily the expected images of the fading grandeur of the buildings in Old Havana, but things I hadn’t expected and the little things I experienced.



American car, Vinales

Vinales is a laid back area, very beautiful, with mogotes – limestone hillocks dating back to the Jurassic period - and excellent for walking and birdwatching. It is an agricultural area: tapioca, grapefruit, pineapples, sugar cane and, of course, tobacco. Farming methods are all very primitive and I didn’t see a tractor all the time I was on the island, which was a surprise as I hadn’t expected the people to be so poor. The farmers were all very proud of their animals and their farms and were more than happy to pose with their oxen and wooden ploughs. Walking though the countryside it was a surprise to find, in the middle of nowhere, a small farm complete with hurricane shelter as well as an old American car being repaired. We received a warm welcome from the locals and were offered local coffee and the local drink made from whole pink grapefruit with the centres removed and filled with freshly crushed sugar cane (delicious!) as well as local grown tobacco, dried and locally rolled into cigars. These, apparently, have the taste of the well known Cuban cigars if not the professional finish! Visiting the Cueva del Indio was a highlight, not the daytime trip through the caves, but the return visit at dusk to see the cloud of bats leaving the cave entrance.

Arriving at La Terrazas for an early morning walk we were greeted with rather large and strong Cubre Libres, so our walk though the old French coffee terraces was a rather enjoyable experience. Apart from cigars and old American cars there is a lot of very nice rum in Cuba and, apart from the Cubre Libres, a significant number of Mohitos were consumed on the trip. That night we experienced our first experience of Castro delivering a speech on TV. There were some local musicians waiting to perform, but the hotel staff were not allowed to switch off the TV until the speech had finished. As the programme ended the electricity failed, so the rest of the evening was enjoyed by candlelight. A lack of electricity was something we got used to as we travelled around.

Travelling across the island, there were many people collecting grass from the verges to use for hay or silage so nothing is wasted. The roads are also multi-purpose as they are used as a drying area for the local rice. Driving to the Bay of Pigs we arrived in Australia, where Castro directed the operations during the Bay of Pigs operation only to find the old sugar cane steam trains being restored and repaired. At the Bay of Pigs I was surprised to find a wide bay with white sand and excellent swimming.

Our next major stop was Trinidad: a joy, with cobbled streets and a friendly village like atmosphere and well worth exploring. There is even an Afro-Cuban temple, for followers of the Santeria religion. It was in Trinidad that I first encountered the music of Cuba – lots of local bands, music and dancing in the town squares and musicians in most restaurants. Every town in Cuba has a Casa de la Trova where there is live music followed by dancing every night. Wandering round the backstreets I also found the ‘chess room’. The Cubans love playing chess and in most towns there appears to be a chess room (men only) where they play chess – all day and also through the night.

There are still food restrictions and rationing in Cuba and everyone has a ration card to make sure they get a basic diet. The ration tickets can be redeemed at an El Libre store – the only one I saw was here in Trinidad. In contrast I was also lucky enough to see a local tradition where, on a girl’s 18th birthday, she has a special treat: dressing up as a bride, hiring a large old (American) car and then having a photo shoot on the cathedral steps.

Arriving in Bayamo in the early evening, we were greeted by a gently illuminated marble square full of families taking an evening stroll and with children enjoying a goat-drawn cart ride around the square. This was a delightful town to wander round at night. As well as the lively square, there is a pedestrian area with local art including giant paint brushes and paint tubes. This town is the birthplace of Carlos Manuel de Cespedes, a key figure in the war of independence, as well as Perucho Figurerdo who wrote the poem that was adopted for the national anthem. At 8.30 in the morning the national anthem was played and everyone stopped and stood still, which gave us a real indication of Cuban pride. Everywhere you go in Cuba there are paintings and murals of Che Guevara, and in every village there is a small monument to the ‘Five Heroes’, although posters and placards of Castro are less obvious.

Moving towards the east of the Island, via the obligatory view (with permit) over Guantanamo Bay, the population showed a greater Caribbean influence, due to the use of Caribbean workers during the sugar cane era. In Guantanamo itself we stopped to look at the small cathedral which was decorated for Christmas, only to find the recorded music was not Christmas carols but The Red Flag! It was interesting to note that, in Guantanamo, we were served tinned pineapple rather than the usual fresh fruit we had elsewhere, so perhaps there is some local trade with the American base!

Travelling over the spectacular Cuchillas de Baracoa we reached the most easterly town, Baracoa, the site of Christopher Columbus’ arrival in 1492, complete with a statue of Columbus. Baracoa was cut off from the rest of Cuba until the road through the mountains was completed after the Revolution and was only accessible by sea. There were three forts here built to protect the town from pirates and from sea attacks by the English. In Cuba the standard fare is rice and beans but, here in Baracoa, there is some welcome variation as coconut seems to be the main ingredient – fish fried in coconut oil and the local speciality cucurucho – coconut, orange, guava and sugar wrapped in a palm leaf. Even the local murals of Che Guevara show the local flavour of Baracoa with depictions of the local buildings and crops. Other local treats are chocolate (though not quite as we know it!) and Pru – a fermented drink with spices meant to having healing and cleansing properties.

Our route back to Havana was via Santiago de Cuba with a fascinating old colonial centre and the first place I encountered the Coco cab – the Cuban equivalent of the tuk-tuk – competing for trade with the old American cars. At the Cementerio Santa Ifigenia we visited the mausoleum of Jose Marti (who founded the Cuban Revolutionary Party) and were lucky enough to witness the changing of the guard – no music - just a loud beat, like a metronome, which was rather eerie. Then a visit to the Castillo del Morro – the fortress perched on the high cliffs and apparently impregnable but easily overcome by the English pirate Christopher Myngs in 1662. In the bay I spied my first ship. Any ships that berth in Cuba are not allowed to visit the USA for six months which means that Cuba is effectively isolated. The wide natural harbours of the south coast of Cuba are all empty.

The last leg of the journey back to Havana involved an unexpected visit to Holguin as the flight from Santiago had been cancelled. However, the flight from Holguin was also cancelled so we ended up sleeping at the airport until a plane arrived for us. My memories of arriving in Havana are of wheeling my bag along the cobbled streets as the sun was beginning to rise.

Old Havana lived up to all my expectations – atmospheric with crumbling and faded buildings as well as those that have been beautifully restored. I hadn’t expected the old city to be so heavily populated and the backstreets were bustling with life. I managed to see most of the sights before the cruise ship groups arrived (the Saga Rose had docked during the night) so was pleased I’d gone out early. I managed to talk my way into the Old Parliament Building (using basic Spanish and saying I was a teacher) and the cleaner proudly showed me the original Cuban Flag. I also found a quiet place of solace, behind the Convent de San Fransisco de Asis, in a small garden dedicated to Mother Theresa, complete with statue. My biggest surprise came after walking up the Paseo del Prado towards the seafront. The Paseo is a huge walkway fringed with trees used by local residents, many of whom were sitting around or in groups having talks or lectures. As I reached the Malecon – the seawall and a promenade area - a vista of modern Havana came into view – tall skyscrapers and modern buildings – from a distance like any modern city!


First published in VISA 80A (Aug 2008)

Europe in 24 hours

by Rosie Jefferson

It's different; it's easy; it's not as expensive as you might expect; it's fun and it's therapeutic.

It started as a one-off event to celebrate a colleague's 50th birthday. A surprise trip, she was told she'd be picked up from home at 6.30am and to bring her passport; we also provided her with blacked out sunglasses while we checked in at the airport, the check-in staff agreeing to our request not to mention the name of the destination within her hearing.

Jan didn't find out where she was going until the pilot of the plane gave away the secret. We had researched the city in advance and knew the places that we were going to visit and the best way of getting to them. We had a plan for the day but it was relaxed and left plenty of room to stop at that interesting little café/bar we came across, to browse at a market stall, to find a good restaurant for lunch.

Eight of us went on that first excursion 6 years ago. We so enjoyed the trip that we no longer need a special occasion to celebrate but fly to somewhere in Europe for the day twice a year, usually in May and October. To date we have day tripped to Amsterdam, Bergamo, Bilbao, Budapest, Cologne, Dublin, Geneva, Madrid, Nice, Warsaw and Zurich.

Criteria for our trips

* Flights are from Luton - the most convenient airport for the members of the group
* Flight times must allow at least 10 hours in the city - this limits the possible destinations by distance and by number of daily flights but there's still a good choice
* Costs of flights/transfers must be less than £50 each - easily done by travelling mid-week and forward planning, booking flights when they are first released. Our best bargain was the flight to Cologne that cost us £2 each, including taxes and charges, when the airline Germanwings started. The bus transfer between airport and city cost us more, at £3 each, each way - so transport costs that day were £8 each!
* Though we share the cost evenly, one person is responsible for getting currency and holding the kitty for the day - makes paying fares, entrance fees, restaurant bills, etc. so much easier.

Airport / city transfers

There are usually frequent bus and train services between the airport and the city - or a taxi of course. Information about these transfers can be found by a search of the city or city airport's websites. We don't visit anywhere that takes longer than 30 minutes for this transfer; we have only once travelled by Ryanair.

Getting around the city

We like to walk around as this is a great way of getting to know the place, but there are times when transport is needed and there is often a pleasing way. In Amsterdam there are the canal buses, boats that travel regularly along 3 different routes, useful for getting from A to B but also to do a complete loop of a route to give another view of the city.

Many places have a little white train that trundles on a circular route stopping at popular spots; the one in Nice runs along the seafront, through the Old Town and then winds its way up along tree-lined roads to the top of the hill with its ruined castle and wonderful views over Nice, the seafront and the Marina. (The train then reverses the journey but we opted to walk down the hill through delightful, greenery-flanked, zigzag pathways and enjoy a very French lunch, sitting outside in the warm sunshine at a restaurant overlooking the seriously-large yachts moored in the Marina.)

Dublin has a bus tour (but beware hopping off at both the Guinness Storehouse museum and the Old Jameson distillery or you may not be fit for much else!) Zurich has tours in an old open-sided trolley bus.

Most city tours are hop-on/hop-off facilities that also include a commentary in several languages, so they are a good way of learning about what you are seeing. Avoid the little white train in Warsaw though - those selling the tickets speak English and the advertising board displays the information, in English, that there is a commentary. Unfortunately the commentary is only in Polish and the train goes around the outside of the old town and its passengers don't get to see much of interest. Warsaw is well worth going to for the day but I recommend seeing it on foot; you'll get a lot more from the visit.

Food and drink

We always have a late and leisurely lunch at a restaurant serving food of the country, with which we drink wine of the country. We travel to see the sights and learn something of the city, but lunch is a major part of our visit.

Where the menu is dissimilar to anything we're used to we like to try as many different dishes as possible; we share a selection of starters and, each person having chosen a different main course, a small part of this goes on everyone else's side plate for them to try too. Choosing from the menu, and the subsequent eating, can be particularly interesting when we don't understand the language . . .

Memorable moments

* Catching the bus into Cologne from the airport and noticing that half the people we saw walking along were in fancy dress. We had arrived on carnival day and the place was buzzing - live music and beer stalls in every open space, everyone in friendly festive mood.

* Catching the bus into Geneva and thinking how quiet everywhere was and how the shops appeared to be closed. We had checked, as always, that it was not a National Holiday but we hadn't known about local holidays. Geneva was closed for the day - the day we had chosen to visit! But we were still able to do most that we had planned - and there were no queues. We had a great day.

* Walking into Fraumünster Church in Zurich and seeing the stained glass by Chagall

* Walking into Matthias Church in Budapest and seeing the richly decorated interior

* The hour long cruise on the ferry out of Zurich that called at small villages around the lake: the lunch at a restaurant on an island in the river; our table was against a low open window next to the water, ducks swam by and the cool breeze flowed in, the gentle lapping of the water was so relaxing.

* Sitting in the sunshine at a table outside a hotel on the Promenade des Anglais in Nice at 10.00am, sipping coffee and watching the Mediterranean and the people sunbathing and swimming. It was October and we'd left the UK in cold and mist.

* Sitting in the sunshine in the garden of a bar high above Bergamo, sipping the local wine and admiring the rooftops of the medieval hilltop old town that we'd reached by funicular. We'd risen higher still by foot to visit the castle ruins and had begun making our way down when we spotted this ideal place for a break.

Finally

One can travel light, no baggage, no hotels to book, just some cash and a camera and a map of the city - and a passport! One day gives a flavour of the place, a taster to determine whether it's worth a weekend or longer visit perhaps. Using the information available online, in books and brochures and selecting the key places to visit and things to do is all part of the fun of preparing for the day out. But once there it is wonderful to just relax and enjoy the surroundings of somewhere new, to absorb its atmosphere and offerings, to appreciate its differences from anywhere else you've been. And, at the end of the day, to take lasting memories home.

First published in VISA issue 69A (October 2006)

Singapore in Three Days

by Malcolm O'Brien

Smith Street

Arriving at Singapore is a pleasure. Changi airport is a modern and thoughtfully laid out airport designed with travellers in mind, which is not something that many airports can boast. From touchdown to being clear of all entry formalities and waiting for the airport shuttle to take us to our hotel took under 20 minutes.

There are many ways to travel from the airport into the city centre, ranging from the excellent MRT public transport system to limousines. We opted for the airport shuttle, a shared taxi that drops off at different hotels, and this cost us S$7 each.

We arrived at our hotel at around 8pm, and after a quick shower decided to explore Chinatown on foot. The Chinatown MRT station opened in May 2003, but after a 12 hour flight from London, we thought that a walk would be nice. Chinatown is an eclectic mix of interesting shops, fascinating sounds and enticing smells. We had dinner at an outdoor stall in Smith Street, which is packed with stalls selling food to cater for all preferences. The food we chose was both excellent and cheap, at around S$3 (£1) each for a main course, and we ate it whilst listening to the banging of bells and the clanging of gongs from a temple on one of the upper storeys overlooking the street.

Penguins in Jurong Bird Park

The following morning, we set off from the city centre to Jurong Bird Park. Public transportation in Singapore is excellent, with the interchanges clearly signposted and the staff all appearing to be very friendly to tourists unfamiliar with the layout of the city, offering unprompted assistance if they suspect someone is not a local. The MRT stations are all uniquely numbered as well as named. We took the MRT to Boon Lay (EW27) and then the SBS bus number 4 directly to the bird park. A combined entrance ticket costing S$30 (approximately £10) allows entrance to the Bird Park, Zoo and Night Safari. The only additional costs are for the Panorail (scenic Monorail) in the Bird Park, and for the tram at the zoo, both of which are recommended as a way of becoming familiar with the layout. The bird park claims to offer a home to over 8,000 birds from 600 species, and is a very enjoyable place to visit. The "Penguin Parade" is a fun way to see over 200 penguins of 5 species. Walking around the bird park I saw the largest flamingos I have ever seen.

We travelled onward from the bird park to the zoo, a short and inexpensive taxi ride away. Having spent so long at the bird park, we didn't arrive at the zoo until early afternoon, which really didn't leave enough time before sunset (usually at 7.30pm in Singapore) to do it justice. Singapore Zoo is a model of the `open zoo' concept, with the animals kept in spacious, landscaped enclosures, separated from the visitors by dry or wet moats which are concealed with vegetation or dropped below the line of vision. This means that they do not appear at all intrusive - at least to visitors. The whole environment is one in which all the animals appear content in their surroundings, and is a pleasure to visit - I would go as far as to say that this is the nicest zoo I have ever been to. Getting around is very easy - particularly if you are short of time, as there is a tram which stops 3 times on a 2.2km route around the zoo.

At dusk, after an enjoyable brisk walk around the zoo, we walked the short distance across the car park to the Night Safari. This is the world's first wildlife park specifically built for visits at night, and offers guests the unique experience of exploring wildlife in a tropical jungle at night. The night safari boasts over 1,000 nocturnal animals of 100 species. Once again this attraction offers a tram ride around the main part of the 40 hectare site, with the option to get on and off at various points and walk along individual trails. Highlights of the visit for me were walking through a bat enclosure and coming within a few feet of an enormous bat hanging, asleep, from a tree branch. Within a few minutes of this, a little further along the trail, I turned a corner to come across a leopard apparently walking towards me along the same path, its route blocked by a huge sheet of glass. A late evening bus trip to the local MRT station and then a train back to the hotel finished off an enjoyable though tiring day.

On the second day of our visit, we took the cable car from Mount Faber to the island of Sentosa, which is described as Singapore's Resort Island. Sentosa has beautifully sandy beaches, an aquarium in which all the fish swim over your head and around you, and a splendid butterfly park. Sentosa also boasts the Merlion, Singapore's tourism icon with the body of a fish and the head of a lion. The musical fountain has two afternoon shows and two in the evening - we managed to see the first half of the first afternoon show before rushing to see the final dolphin performance of the day at Dolphin Lagoon. The day culminated in a cable car ride back to the mid-point on the cable car route Cable Car Tower, then a walk up to the outdoor food stalls in Smith Street.

Our final day in Singapore started with a short walk from the hotel we were staying in, the Swissotel Merchant Court (which we would recommend highly) through the city to Orchard Road which is a bustling shopping street in the city centre. We walked to the famous "Raffles Hotel" and had a look at the "tourist" parts - as the main accommodation part of the hotel is off limits unless you are staying there. On the way back to our hotel, we were caught in a sudden downpour, so decided it would be a good time to have lunch in one of the many local restaurants there. We had some superb Indian food before walking back to our hotel to collect our bags, head to the airport and fly up to Koh Samui for the second destination in our visit.

I would recommend Singapore to anyone as an interesting and enjoyable place to visit. There is no language barrier, the climate is pleasant and there is plenty to see and do.
Useful links:

Singapore Tourist Board www.visitsingapore.com or www.stb.com.sg

Jurong Birdpark http://www.birdpark.com.sg

Singapore Zoo http://www.zoo.com.sg

Night Safari http://www.nightsafari.com.sg

Sentosa http://www.sentosa.com.sg

Rio de Janeiro: Winter in June

by Eunice Kirby

Three years ago, while on holiday in Portugal, we went to Lisbon and visited the statue of Christ that looks out over the city. We were told about it being a copy of the Christo Redento statue that embraces the city of Rio de Janeiro from its position on the top of Corcovado. I said how much I would like to see the original, not thinking that I would ever get the chance. This year I got that chance. Over the last few years we have tended to be independent travellers, making use of the Internet to book hotels an Europe and America but as we had heard so many warnings about Rio, we decided to book our trip through a tour operator. We only managed to find two mainstream tour operators who offered Rio Page and Moy, and Kuoni, although Thompson also go there now. There are many specialist South American operators but, having looked at what was on offer, we booked with Kuoni, choosing to stay at Le Meridien Copacobana Hotel simply on the basis that if we paid for seven nights, we got another two nights free.

So it was, that on Thursday 8th June, this year, my sister and brother-in-law kindly drove us down to Heathrow Airport for the 10p.m. Varig Brazilian flight to Rio de Janeiro, stopping en route at Sao Paulo - fourteen hours on the plane in all, but at least being overnight we managed to sleep through most of it. We arrived at our hotel at 9.45a.m. local time, and after checking in we showered, unpacked and set off to get our bearings. Most of the hotels are right on the sea front, we just had to cross the Avenida Atlantica and we were on the golden sands, among the coconut palms. We were pleasantly surprised to discover that the numerous kiosks all along the edge of the beach offered freshly prepared food and cold drinks at very reasonable prices. Our first "meal" consisted of a hamburger with plenty of salad and cheese for less than 60p and a can of cold beer ranged from 40p to 60p. We walked to the end of the beach - a rocky promontory called Morro do Leme which has the narrow "Caminho dos Pesacadores" built around the base from where the local fishermen cast their lines. We bought a bottle of water on our way back to the hotel where we changed before setting out again this time heading away from the beach and towards the shops. After buying a few postcards and my first T-shirt, (an expensive one, it cost about £3) we enjoyed our first proper meal then returned to our hotel for an early night. We had not been to bed for 48 hours.
Saturday found us both awake and refreshed nice and early, so we had the buffet breakfast in the 4th floor restaurant then we had a stroll along the front before enquiring at the hotel reception if it was possible to walk to Sugar Loaf. On being told that it was not we asked for a street taxi to take us, the street taxis only cost around £3 to £4 per journey we found. We caught the cable car up to the first stop on Morro da Urca and spent a pleasant hour or so wandering round, admiring the views and the small monkeys that live on the rock. We then caught the next cable car up to the top of Sugar Loaf itself, a span of 2,500 feet covered in three minutes. The views from here are spectacular and we stayed for hours, enjoying an ice cream and a cold drink from the refreshment kiosk. There are many walks around the top, so you can get away from the crowds and enjoy the views on your own for as long as you like as there is no time limit on the tickets, you just get whichever cable car you fancy.

The only disappointment was that there was a cloud over Corcovado and we could not see the statue so we decided that we would pick our day to go up there with care. We eventually returned to the ground and walked round to Botafogo to admire the views of Sugar Loaf and get something to eat before walking back to our hotel. It was not too far and we felt perfectly safe even walking back through the tunnel. We had a drink at one of the kiosks before returning to the hotel to rest, then freshen up and head out for our evening meal. When you order a meal in Brazil, the waiters automatically bring two plates, knives and forks. The servings are so large that one meal will easily feed two; sometimes, we had to leave some. This makes dining out a very economical affair; even with drinks and desserts, we only ever paid about £10 to £15 for both of us! And we enjoyed everything that we had.

Sunday morning, we got a taxi to Praca Gen. Osorio in Ipanema, where the "Feira Hippie " or Hippy Market is found. We spent several hours wandering round the stalls admiring the handicrafts on sale and buying quite a bit; again the prices were so reasonable and we bought souvenirs and gifts that are unique. We then walked along the Rua Prudente de Morais as far as the "Ipanema Lollipop", an imaginative road island, before retracing our steps so that we could enjoy a drink in the Garota de Ipanema, the bar where the famous song "Girl from Ipamena" was composed. We then headed for the sea front and discovered that, on Sunda,y most of the population of Rio spends the day walking up and down along the sea front. I have never seen so many people walking, riding bikes, mini scooters, roller blades, skates or skateboards. One side of the dual carriageway that runs the length of the sea front is closed to traffic on Sundays to allow for all the people.

We walked back towards Copacobana and visited the Forte de Copacobana which is situated on the small peninsular that divides Copacobana from Ipanema. In the fort it is possible to walk on top of the cupola gun emplacement and go right up to the gun barrels that were capable of firing shells up to 25 miles. You can also go inside the cupola and view the firing mechanism. A gentle stroll along the length of Copacobana - with several refreshment stop s- found us back at our hotel with plenty of time to rest and freshen up before heading out for the evening. We enjoyed our meal to the accompaniment of much cheering, dancing in the streets and firecrackers; there was a big football match and Flamengo, the local team won three nil. There was a real party atmosphere all around and much celebrating, with car horns blaring and firecrackers being set off well into the night.

Monday, we decided to try the City Rio Tourist Buses. These consist of three routes that cover the entire city and each route connects with another one. You can buy tickets on the bus and they are valid for 24, 48, or 72 hours from the time that you purchase it. We got on the bus just down the road from the hotel and as we went round to the next stop at Sugar Loaf, we saw that it was a lovely clear day and that the statue on Corcovado could be seen clearly so we decided that we would go there. Sugar Loaf is where two of the bus routes connect but we stayed on the one we were on as its next stop was Corcovado, here we got off and joined the queue for the train up the mountain, the rack and pinion railway takes 20 minutes to climb up 2 1/2 miles, leaving you with 212 steps to climb up to the statue itself. The steps are interspersed with viewing areas and of course, gift shops. At the top the views really are spectacular and it is worth waiting a while for the crowds to disperse before taking your photographs; most people, especially those on organised trips, rush up to the top, take their photos, then rush back to get the next available train down. We took our time admiring the scenery, wandering round all of the shops and then we sat with a cold drink, at this point we realised that the group of American tourists that had been on the train up with us, had had to go back down an hour before, the joys of being independent, you have time to see things properly and sit and watch the world go by without having to rush. We did eventually get a train back down and waited for the next City Rio bus to come along.

We carried on round the lagoon and past the race track and got off at the gates to the Botanical Gardens where we spent a very pleasant afternoon. We saw plants that we had only heard of before as well as many that we recognised but that we think of as being house plants. We also saw several species of birds as well as the usual monkeys. This was a very peaceful afternoon, a quiet oasis in the centre of a busy city. We got back on the bus and rode round to Leblon, where we got off and sat in the sun with a drink before getting back on the bus to go back to our hotel to change and go out for our evening meal. After we had eaten we decided that it was time that we tried the local drink, the spirit is cachaca - distilled from sugar cane (a bit worrying as some of the cars also run on alcohol that is distilled from sugar cane) this is mixed with crushed ice, limes and sugar and drunk through a straw. The first mouthful is mind-blowing, but the taste grows on you although we only ever had them one at a time. They would be lethal in any quantity, but we did bring a bottle of cachaca home and have made it ourselves.

Tuesday morning we set the alarm for 6.30.a.m. And after breakfast in our room, we got a taxi down to the Marina de Gloria as we had seen a leaflet advertising boat trips round the bay that only went on Sundays and Tuesdays. We found the shop with the boat company's sticker in the window and bought our tickets. It cost about £5.50 each, the man in the shop pointed out to the jetty so we went over to wait. The large boat that was there sailed off and another large wooden schooner sailed up, we showed our ticket and were waved aboard by the crew in their starched white uniforms. We waited for the other passengers to arrive but, once we were settled the boat set off, on a three hour cruise round the bay, over to Niteroi, under the eleven mile long Rio to Niteroi bridge and eventually back to Gloria. All this just for the two of us! We felt really important with this lovely 70 foot boat, all to ourselves; anywhere else it would have been cancelled through lack of interest. When we left the boat,

we walked through the Parque do Flamengo - the largest urban park in the world - past the World War 2 Memorial, through the Museum of Modern Art and into the historical centre of the city. The buildings are magnificent, especially the National Library, the Theatre (a small scale replica of the Paris Opera) and The Palacia Pedro Ernesto, now the City Hall, but the noise of traffic and the crowds of people came as a shock after the relative tranquillity of the beach areas. We walked on and spent some time in the Catedral Metropolitana, the circular cathedral that was inaugurated in 1976, it is a huge building and can hold 20,000 people but is so quiet and peaceful inside, such a contrast to the hustle and bustle of the busy city outside.

We then took a ride on the old Santa Teresa tram, old being the word. The rickety wooden trams career at full speed along the middle of the road, up hill into the district of Santa Teresa; the bruises last a lot longer than the ride! It costs only pence to sit inside the tram, but locals can ride for free if they jump onto the running boards and just hang on - you only pay for the privilege of sitting down. When we had left the tram, we walked back through the centre to Praca 15 to see some more of the historical buildings and sit with a cold drink while we watched the Niteroi ferries coming and going. Then we got a taxi back to the hotel.

On Wednesday we had a lazy day, we got the City Rio bus to Sugar Loaf then changed to a different route and did the full circuit before changing again to do the third route round Barra. It took us all day to do all three routes, getting off now and then to look at things or to have something to eat or drink, but at least we knew that we had seen everything of importance and the guide books that you get on the buses are very informative about the places along the route and those just off the route but which are worth seeing. When we got back to the hotel we changed into our Swim suits and collected beach towels from the hotel and headed to the beach for some sun and rest. This is where the hotel really came into its own as they had a stand on the beach with uniformed life guards who , as soon as they saw us approaching with hotel towels, put sun lounger's for us and once we were settled , kept us supplied with cold water and fresh fruit kebabs. You do not really need to visit the shops in Rio, if you sit on the beach the shops come to you, as people selling everything that you can think of make their living on the beaches. Having said this, there is no hard sell, if you say no or just do not look at them they do not hassle you they just carry on, here you can buy T-shirts, sun glasses, sun tan lotion, hats, sarongs, as well as all manner of food and drink - the lazy way to shop.

Thursday, and after breakfast we took a hotel taxi to The Maracana Stadium. It may be past its best now, but it is still an amazing place. Our driver took us right into the stadium car park and then into the ground itself going up six floors in the lift to come out at the top of the stadium looking out over the pitch - a wonderful, experience for anyone, especially someone who likes football as I do. We spent some time soaking up the atmosphere , before our driver took us down again and into the changing rooms, the training rooms and into the tunnel, our most expensive trip so far but definitely worth it. We then returned to the hotel via The Sambadrome, the large concrete grandstands built for the Carnival - probably a lot more impressive when filled with people.

When we got back to the hotel, we changed back into our shorts then walked through the tunnel just down the main road at the side of our hotel to go shopping in one of the large shopping centres before having lunch at one of the sea front kiosks, changing into our cossies again and spending the afternoon on the beach, then doing some more shopping in the evening including buying the cachaca to bring home with us.

Friday morning we again caught a City Rio bus round to Corcovado and started to walk up the mountain. We walked for an hour and a half, enjoying some wonderful views of the statue and of Rio, but it was very hot and the road was quite steep. So we turned round and came back down; we had not intended to walk to the top, but we had just wanted to experience the Tijuca forest on foot instead of on a train.

We got back on the bus and got off again at the opposite end or Copacobana to our hotel, we had some lunch then gently strolled back along the beach. We sat on the front for a while watching the boats and also a submarine making its way into the bay. Another fairly lazy day really.

Saturday morning we asked the Concierge if he could book us a Jeep Tour for that afternoon, and we spent the morning relaxing on the beach. After lunch, we were collected from the hotel and taken on a three and a half hour trip, well into the Tijuca Forest - the real forest. We saw waterfalls, bananas growing, toucans flying around and heard many other birds. The only (very poisonous) snake we saw had been run over but we could still see its vibrant colours, the trip included a walk in the heart of the forest where we saw yet more exotic plants. We ended up at The Chinese Viewpoint, one of only two places in Rio where you can see Corcovado and Sugar Loaf at the same time, as you can imagine, this view is breathtaking. All through our afternoon, our jeep driver had been asking other drivers what the score was in the second leg of the football final which was being played that afternoon. It was a 1-1 draw which meant that Flamengo won on aggregate - so we knew that there would be more celebrations that night. Back at the hote,l we put the television on and, instead of watching CNN as usua,l we found a local channel that was covering the football. The trophy was enormous and for some reason they were displaying three of them. We went out for our meal and everyone was wearing their red and black football shirts and scarves, there were the usual car horns and fire crackers then, all of a sudden, there appeared to be some sort of parade and the team came along riding on the top of a fire engine displaying all the trophies! It was certainly an experience to be there.

Sunday was our last day so we spent the morning doing some last minute shopping then after packing the cases we spent the afternoon by the hotel pool - on the fourth floor , with a lovely view over to the beach. We left at 5 p.m. for our overnight flight back to Heathrow.

My impressions? Rio is a wonderful city with everything to offer, beaches. historical buildings, amazing scenery, gardens, parks, shops and markets. We were warned before we went not to take jewellery or to flash our cameras due to the high unemployment and the poverty. Also we were told not to go out at night and not to walk through the tunnels. We did not feel threatened at all throughout our stay; we went out every night on foot and we walked through the tunnel nearest to out hotel several times, but only during the day. Yes, we saw a lot of poverty - many people sleep on the beach or even on the pavements, but we did not feel intimidated or insecure at all; everyone was very friendly even if they did not speak English. I think that they know that tourism is the way forward and that it can bring money into the city, so it is encouraged. We could not fault our hotel and how Kuoni did it for the money we paid I do not know. But I would criticise our contact there - we were met at the airport by the 'rep's' brother who told us that his friend would take us to our hotel and that our rep would let us have some maps and information. It was four days before this info was delivered to the hotel by which time we had seen the major sights and were managing to get around quite well on our own. Our rep then telephoned a couple of days later to check that we were all right and to let us know what time he would be collecting us to take us back to the airport . It was when he collected us to come home that we met him for the first and only time. We did not mind too much because we are used to travelling independently and like to do our own thing. Someone who had perhaps always dreamed of going to Rio, but was not a very experienced traveller, may well have felt let down and rather abandoned; but this is my only criticism. I would recommend going to Rio to anyone and go in June when the temperature is so nice; it would be far too hot for me in their summer, although I would love to back one day to see The Carnival.

First published in VISA issue 40 (spring 2001).