Cooling-Off Period

By Helen Matthews

“Don’t step on the moss.  It soaks up radioactivity” Nikolai warned us, using his Geiger counter to demonstrate the effect. It beeped obediently.  As our local guide in the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone, his job was to keep us safe from radiation. Much of the zone is now perfectly safe to visit.  Our radiation exposure at the end of our two-day trip was less than that of a 5-hour flight.  There are however ‘hotspots’ where radiation is far higher, so following Nikolai’s advice was essential.

Abandoned fairground in Pripyat

His attitude to other health and safety issues was, by UK standards, refreshingly relaxed.  We picked our way through the abandoned town of Pripyat over broken glass and up crumbling stairways. So what if the floor had a hole with a tree growing through it – the other side of the room was fine. 

“I had a couple of visitors fall through the stage, so we don’t go in here anymore” Nikolai observed casually as we looked into what had once been the auditorium of a theatre.

Exploring Pripyat was rather like stepping into episode one of a post-apocalyptic sci-fi serial. Established in 1970 as a home for the workers at the Chernobyl nuclear power complex, with modern amenities and leisure facilities, it is just over thirty years since the catastrophic explosion in reactor no. 4 on 26 April 1986 that led to the town’s evacuation. The new Ferris wheel in the amusement park had been due to open just a few days later. Now completely abandoned, nature is well on the way to reclaiming Pripyat.  Shops, apartment buildings and leisure facilities are slowly decaying. Every year there is less to see.

The exclusion zone is not entirely deserted. There are still workers at the power station. These days they are installing the new containment shield which replaces the concrete sarcophagus on reactor no. 4.  The workers live in the town of Chernobyl itself, which lies within the 30 k.m. containment zone but unlike Pripyat, is outside the 10 k.m. inner zone. They work a shift pattern, typically 2 weeks on, and two weeks off, spent outside the zone. Also in Chernobyl are fire fighters who are on constant guard against forest fires.  There is even a hotel, built for visiting scientists, where we were able to stay the night.  

There are lots of feral dogs.  Most, but not all, had tags in their ears showing that they had been neutered during a recent exercise.  The dogs tended to congregate around the power station canteen, where workers (and visitors) smuggle them food, despite the notices to the contrary. They were friendly but we were advised not to pet them, in case they had been rolling in a radioactive hotspot. In Pripyat, we even met a tame fox.  He had been found with a damaged leg and nursed by checkpoint guards. The river by the power station is full of giant catfish. Their size is down to being fed by visitors rather than a radioactive mutation.

Some of the original local inhabitants, known as settlers, have moved back to their villages.  They generally live well into their eighties.  We met one of them, called Ivan.  He said that he had moved in 1988 as the town to which he had been evacuated had more radioactivity and poorer housing.  His village was in a clean area of the zone and the house, which he had built himself was free from draughts. He grows all his own vegetables and chops his own wood and certainly looks well enough on it.

Others were not so lucky.  All of the firefighters who responded as soon as the reactor fire was noticed died from radiation within a couple of weeks, as were the doctors and nurses at the Moscow hospital where they were treated. There is a monument to these first responders outside the Chernobyl fire station, funded by their relatives. Officially it doesn’t exist as they did not complete the necessary paperwork. 

Clean-up robots

Attempts were made to use robots in the subsequent clean-up operation.  The Japanese robots worked longer than the Soviet one, based on the chassis of a Moon buggy which lasted a mere 30 minutes, but none of them operated for long before the radiation fried their circuits.  The solution was to use ‘bio-robots’ – humans wearing rudimentary radiation protection who each were able to work for just a couple of minutes shovelling debris.  The remains of the mechanical robots are now on display in Chernobyl.  The fate of the bio-robots is not fully recorded.

It was a strange trip. It was terrible to think of the fate of those who were caught up in the horrific events, but in some ways encouraging to see the resilience of the natural world in claiming its own.

 First published in VISA  135 (October 2017)

Going to the Zoo, Zoo, Zoo

By Elizabeth Johnstone

I enjoy being a tourist in London.  Armed with my Super Off-Peak Travelcard plus Network Card, I like to take the train into town on a Saturday and visit one of our many attractions. Recently, I used the 2-for-1 discount offered by the Days Out Guide in association with National Rail.  Provided you travel by train, you can get two full price entry tickets for the price of one.

Meerkat at London Zoo

London Zoo seemed like a good use of this scheme. A single full price adult ticket, including a 10% “voluntary donation”, is an eye-watering £28.10.  Discounts are available for children, seniors, disabled people, groups etc but none are as good as two for one. My husband and I took the train to Finsbury Park, then a 29 bus to Camden followed by a pleasant 15-minute walk to the zoo.

Our first stopping point was Penguin Beach.  One of the newer features, it had raked seating so we could look down on these delightful creatures. Several “portholes” in the side of the pool showed off their streamlined underwater prowess. Readers may remember the Modernist Penguin Pool designed by Lubetkin in 1934.  It is preserved as architectural heritage but the penguins now enjoy a much more sympathetic environment.

Next, we explored the new “Land of the Lions”.  This huge, Indian-themed area includes a railway station, crumbling temple clearing, high street and guard hut.  Seeing the actual lions was harder.  A group of lionesses snoozed contentedly on heated rocks, but the male was well hidden somewhere in his spacious and protected habitat.  Ideal for him, less so for the customers.

Artworks and statues are too numerous to mention.  I liked the “Big Clock” outside the aviary.  It sprang to life on the hour with a charming mechanised interpretation of the Victorian attitude to animals.  Small animals were easier to spot.  Who doesn’t love a meerkat? An adult stood on guard duty on top of the burrow.  Even better were the black-capped squirrel monkeys, whose enclosure we could walk through. Plenty of keepers were on hand to prevent problems between curious monkeys and over-enthusiastic toddlers.

The venerable Galapagos tortoises lumbered purposefully around. The Komodo dragon glared balefully. We ate our sandwiches in “Australia”, eye-to-eye with emus.  Kangaroos dozed in the shade beside huge “termite mounds”.  We were in time for a presentation of the tigers and looked down on these fantastic animals from a viewing station.

By chance, we were visiting on Vulture Awareness Day.  Apparently, vultures are uniquely susceptible to an antibiotic routinely used on cattle in the sub-continent, with the result that over 99% have been wiped out. Vultures no longer devour disease-ridden carcasses and those diseases are spreading among the human population.  London Zoo has a programme to re-populate the vultures, to which we gladly contributed.

Another top exhibit was the vast and superbly appointed “Gorilla Kingdom”.  The enormous male slumbered in an equally capacious leather hammock, while the female relaxed on a branch.  She kept an eye on the baby whose eagerness to explore was not matched by its expertise.

At the end of the day, we had walked far enough, so used our Travelcards to hop on the 274 bus to Camden, where we picked up another 29.  We made it in time to catch the next train home from Finsbury Park, all pretty seamlessly.

Opinions are divided on zoos.  Some consider them unacceptable in any circumstances and I freely admit that the relationship between humans and animals is a complex one.  All I can say is that London Zoo appears to operate to the highest standards of animal welfare, conservation and education.

First published in VISA 131 (February 2017)

Russian Cruising at Speed

By Sally Branston

Day One started with Phantom of the Opera; Day Three was Emanuelle.  I didn’t recognise our early morning wake-up music on Day Two.  And although Day Three’s excursion wasn’t scheduled until 4.30pm, it was still compulsory to rise at 7.30am for breakfast, to enable us to fit in the obligatory briefing, history class, language lesson, boat drill, four course lunch and craft demonstration first… another relaxing day on board MS Vasily Surikov, floating along the beautiful River Volga (not really).  We skipped the language lesson and handicraft session for scenery watching. 

St Basil's Cathedral

Day Four involved rising at 6.30am for breakfast before departing on a trip round the city of Yaroslavl at eight.  Back on board for our 11.00am sailing, we thought we might nip to the bar for a cup of coffee.  The barman was quite busy and it took a while to get served, so quite a few of us were still sitting there when Polina, our on-board guide, came to round us up for the compulsory 11.30am briefing.  A few people tried to hide, but they were out of luck and eventually we were all herded to the ship’s conference room so that they could tell us about our upcoming arrival in St Petersburg in three days’ time – and sell us some excursions. 

Moscow had been quite hectic.  Those of us flying from Birmingham and Manchester had risen in the early hours to check in at 4.00am, arriving at the ship at 7pm for dinner, briefing and excursion sales.   But there was to be no leisurely lie-in the following morning.  Our tour of the city started at 8.45am and, unfortunately, we were in the hands of a guide who just loved to talk.  The city was spacious, light and clean: the temperature was knocking on 30 degrees.  But our guide’s volubility left us with a mere 30 minutes ‘free’ time in Red Square to poke our noses into GUM and photograph Lenin’s Tomb and St Basil’s Cathedral from the outside.  Then it was time to get back on the bus and return to the boat for lunch.  Our waitress was a young, sweet student, eager to please, but slow, and we had to abandon our plates part way through in order to get back on the bus and return to the same spot we’d left 90 minutes earlier to continue our tour with a visit to the Kremlin.  By the time we finished at the Armoury Museum, many in our party were wilting in the heat and anxious to get back for a shower before dinner and the evening’s optional tour of the Moscow metro system.  We decided to give that one a miss and have a quiet drink in the bar instead.  Next morning, we ducked out on that day’s tour too, walked to the nearest station and did our own metro tour at our own pace.  The system is similar to the London Underground – apart from the artistic nature of the decorations - and very easy to use, especially if you have a smattering of the language. 

We were woken at 2.30am on Day Six by a series of lurches and loud bangs as the ship entered a lock.  I tweaked back the cabin curtain and could see nothing but a high wall.  The vessel exited more gracefully than it had entered and the next time I awoke was to the motion of small waves.  The shoreline was no longer visible from the middle of Lake Onega and I had apparently slept through another five locks.  Our scheduled stop was Kizhi Island, a two hour stop crammed into four.  The island was green, the approach picturesque and we enjoyed a sunny, breezy walk, but the hour long exposition by the guide was wearing and there wasn’t actually much to see aside from the Church of the Transfiguration, or Church of the Restoration as it is popularly known, on account of lengthy, ongoing conservation work. 

Day Seven saw a Russian revolution by the other nationalities on board – Italians and Portuguese.  When we received our daily programme, we could see why.  ‘Lunch’ was to be at 11.15am onshore and there would be nothing else until dinner at seven.  We were supposed to be in the ship’s conference room at 8.30am for a question and answer session on ‘Russia Today’ with Alexandra, the on-board history lecturer.  The three lectures we’d attended with her so far had  been both informative and entertaining, but at 8.30?  Please.  We tried to stay in bed, but were thwarted at 7.15am by music that Ennio Morricone might have composed for one of the Spaghetti Westerns if he’d been experimenting with electric violins played by demons on acid.  So much for a lie-in!

The final destination was St Petersburg, where the weather was cloudy and overcast, but where we encountered a much more sympathetic guide.  She told us about each place while we were on the bus, in transit and then let us off to do our own thing.  We also avoided the need to return to the ship at midday by being given packed lunches, although the square where we were dropped off to eat them left something to be desired, being picturesquely populated by Russian drunks, spark out on the benches.  Some of our party donated their picnics, but I’m not sure that food was actually what these guys were desperate for. 

In the afternoon, we queued to enter the Hermitage Museum and see what we could from the centre of a surging crowd, each visitor eager to get that ‘must-have’ selfie in front of a Leonardo or a Rembrandt.  In the evening, we went to a Cossack song and dance show, strictly for the tourists, but nevertheless, extremely entertaining.  The following day, a trip to the water gardens of the Peterhof Palace concluded our stay in this city. 

Was Russia interesting and welcoming?  Yes.  How was the scenery?  Attractive.  Was this cruise relaxing?  No.  What was the August weather like?  Very changeable.  How was the food?  Good, but not gourmet.   Would you go there again?  Yes, certainly.   And we actually brought some holiday spending money home, because there was never any time to stop and spend it!

First published in VISA 131 (Feb 2017)

Cashless in Kerala

By Helen Krasner

My partner David and I like holidays on boats.  Not ships, you understand; I've been on a couple of cruises, but I wouldn't go again.  A large cruise ship can't go to the smaller ports, and visiting places with thousands of other people alters the place itself beyond recognition; I know; I've been in a few towns when a cruise ship arrived and I've seen the changes.  But smaller boats… they give you the opportunity see the countryside in a unique way, and to relax and not have to keep packing in order to move on.  So when we decided to go to India, the first thing we looked for was a river trip.  And we found one – a cruise down the Hoogly in Northern India.  But there was a snag; it was horrendously expensive.  So I began to search the internet for something similar but cheaper elsewhere in India.  And that was how I found the company Kerala Connections, and their six-day houseboat cruise in Kerala, right in the south of India.

I had been to India before, and I loved South India.  But that was 45 years ago in my misspent youth.  And I'd never made it to Kerala; I'd heard it was beautiful and I'd intended to go, but I'd run out of time or money or both before I could make it.  Now I started looking into it.  Very green, very tropical, different from the rest of India in terms of religion and politics… it sounded interesting.  And it was intersected everywhere with waterways – rivers, lagoons, and canals.  Tourism was growing there, and the boats which had been used for transporting rice in former times had been turned into houseboats for taking tourists on trips on the waterways.  Everyone said a houseboat trip was the highlight of a visit to Kerala.  But most people only went for a day, or overnight, or occasionally two nights.  No-one seemed to have heard of spending six days on a houseboat.  Kerala Connections had had it specially arranged for their clients, it seemed, since some people wanted to spend longer on the waterways, and have the opportunity to get well away from the myriad of other houseboats and tourists.  We liked that idea too.  The company arranged tailormade tours, and they suggested the houseboat cruise as part of a longer stay in Kerala.  With that in mind, I came up with three nights in historic Fort Cochin, then the houseboat trip, and a couple of nights in other places afterwards.  I ran it by Kerala Connections to see if it was feasible and affordable – and it was.  We booked it, with Kerala Connections arranging flights, transfers and so on.  What could possibly go wrong?

As some of you may know, on 8 November 2016, the Indian government suddenly and without warning withdrew their largest bank notes, the 100 rupee (£24) and 500 rupee (£11).  The idea was to hit the black marketeers where it hurts, but in fact it hit ordinary people, who suddenly found their money worthless.  It also affected tourists who were already there.  We heard about this and phoned Kerala Connections, as we would be arriving in India on 14 November.  Not to worry, they said.  Their reps and drivers would show us the new 2000 rupee and 500 rupee notes, and we should have no trouble changing money. I should mention that it is impossible to obtain Indian money before you leave the UK.

They were wrong.  When we arrived, the everyday money situation was chaos.  We managed to change a small amount at the airport, but there was a limit of £60.  Banks were running out of money and closing, as were ATMs.  Smaller denomination notes were in short supply, the new 500 rupee note hadn't materialised, and nobody could change 2000 rupees, a small fortune for many Indians.  Tourists were spending all day trying to change money, with no success.

This is the sort of situation which makes you glad you've booked with a tour company and not arranged things independently.  Our Indian driver took away some of our cash, changed it and brought it back to us.  He even got us some small denomination notes.  We had no idea how he managed it and we didn't ask too many questions.  But that was a big problem – and to be honest our only problem – effectively solved.

So… on to the trip.  After a pleasant couple of days of sightseeing and shopping in Fort Kochin, it was an hour's drive down to Alleppey to pick up our houseboat.  And it really was ours for the week.   It was just the two of us, and three crew – the captain, the chef, and an assistant.  Wow; we felt a bit like royalty!  The houseboat itself looked very traditional externally, but inside it was utterly comfortable and quite luxurious.  We had a large bedroom with our own flush toilet and shower.  Both worked well, though they did use river water.  This was  a lot nicer than it sounds, as the waterways in Kerala aren't too polluted… yet!  Still, it meant bottled water for drinking, even for teeth cleaning.  There was a large living room/dining room, with comfy chairs, and a mattress in the front where we could sprawl out and look at the view as we cruised.  There was quite a reasonable kitchen, and the crew's quarters were down below.

We met our crew when we arrived.  Joss, the captain, spoke reasonable though rather idiosyncratic English, and was responsible for the route.  He knew the waterways like the back of his hand, having been a captain on the Kerala government ferryboats for 20 years before taking his present job.  Biju, the chef, prepared fantastic food, basically South Indian but very mild for what he thought was European tastes.  I love Indian food, so after a day or so I asked him to make it “a little bit spicy” and it got even better.  Wu the assistant spoke very little English, helped out where needed, and drove the boat when Joss needed a rest.  The very few boating mishaps we had occurred when Wu took over; he managed to get a rope snarled round the propeller one day, and scared us a little by how close he sometimes went to shore.  But I don't think most people would have noticed.  David, who spent five years living on a narrowboat before he met me, was very attuned to these sorts of things.  Indeed, although he had started out worried about how he'd cope with a very different culture, David found more similarities than differences between boating in the UK and boating in Kerala.  He felt quite at home.

So where did we go for six days?  The first couple of days we followed the same route as many other houseboats, and indeed saw rather too many of them for a couple who are allergic to other tourists.  But we also visited an uninhabited island in a lake, then walked to a village to see coir making i.e. making coconut fibre rope in the traditional manner.  We went to a bird sanctuary which didn't have many birds, probably due to being on the main tourist route and having too many visitors for any self-respecting bird.  This involved a walk of several miles in 33 degree heat and nearly 100% humidity, and after that we gave Joss an ultimatum – only little walks please, no more route marches.   We were able to do that since this was our boat and our trip; Kerala Connections had emphasised in advance that we could change the route or stops if we wanted to.  We stopped at a waterside spa for me to have an ayurvedic massage.  And we sat and watched waterways life -  fishermen, various types of boats, exotic birds such as kingfishers, herons, and egrets, tropical fish, even a watersnake or two.  We moored overnight in silent waterside locations, and woke to sunrise over coconut palms, and freshly brewed coffee before breakfast.  The crew did everything on board; indeed, we hardly had to lift a finger.  It was utterly idyllic.

In between stops there wasn't really much to do.  Luckily we enjoy just relaxing and taking in new surroundings.  We also read a lot of books!  And we got to know our crew quite well.  Joss was an interesting person; in his early sixties, he had two teenage daughters.  “I didn't get married until very late,” he told us.  “I had three sisters, and I had to work to earn their dowries.”  We listened, intrigued, as he told us of a father who was out of work, and so Joss needed to support the family.  Eventually his sisters were married, and then came his turn.  “I married a poor girl,” he said.  “So no dowry.”  However, he was saving for the dowries for his own two daughters.  We wondered many things – would he ever be able to retire, did everyone in India still live in this traditional manner and so on?  Unfortunately we never managed to find out.

Biju didn't speak as much English as Joss, so we didn't have as much general conversation with him.  But I'll never forget asking him to make Earl Grey tea for me.  I'd brought my own tea bags, and he was quite willing to use them – but he'd never seen a tea bag before and he didn't know how.  So he learned something too.

After a couple of days things changed a little, though it was very gradual.   We were heading south, away from Alleppey and the tourist centres.  We soon found ourselves well away from other houseboats, but with many villages and a way of life based primarily on the waterways.  Here the rivers and canals played a bigger part in everyday life than the roads, as they had done for generations.  Canoes passed us, transporting rice, cattle feed and building materials; women washed their clothes in the rivers, and the village children waited at bus stops by the side of the river for water-buses to transport them home.  We stopped at a number of these villages, as we had told Joss we were interested in how people lived.  He showed us around beautiful churches, as Kerala has a large number of Christians.  I think he was a little surprised at our interest in dusty village streets and ordinary small shops but, if that was what we wanted to see, that was fine with him.

One of the highlights was a visit to an important Hindu temple, well off the tourist routes, but a place of pilgrimage, with a large number of pilgrim buses visiting.  We visited with Biju and Wu, who were Hindus (Joss was Christian), and were allowed inside with all the pilgrims, something which I gather is very rare.  It was quite an experience. 

On our last day, we went to a part of the waterways rarely visited by anyone at all.  It was necessary to go under a very low bridge at one point, and we only just made it.  I don't think this was on our planned route, but Joss was a law unto himself as far as the route was concerned.  He knew the waterways, and he thought we'd like this area, so he took us there.  For several hours we saw almost nothing except abundant wildlife, not even local boats.  There were a few houses, the occasional person going about their business by the waterways, but not much else.  This was true rural Kerala, an area rarely seen by tourists, and probably not by many locals.  It was peaceful and beautiful, and I feel privileged to have been there.

And then...  It was back with the other houseboats, heading north to Alleppey.  Our last night was close to the finish, where we had a canoe ride up a narrow waterway.  It was supposed to be a highlight, and it might have been if we'd done a short trip, but we'd seen so much more...  The following morning we reached the houseboat centre, and said goodbye to our crew, giving them a well-deserved large tip… well, we had to get rid of our 2000 rupee notes somehow!  We had a couple of days left, but the main part of the holiday, and our primary reason for coming to Kerala, was over.

We both agreed that this had been one of the best holidays we'd ever had.  It was unique and fascinating.  But would I recommend it?  Well, if you're the sort of person who wants constant activity and plenty to do, who needs organised activities and night life, you probably shouldn't go.  If you do, maybe just do a day, or overnight at most, on a houseboat.  But if, like us, you like wild places, new experiences, and finding out about local life and traditions, then this might well be the holiday for you.

See keralaconnections.co.uk for more details

First published in VISA 132 (April 2017)

Black Sand and Bananas

By Elizabeth Johnstone

In January 2017, we spent a week in La Palma on a Thomson package holiday. La Palma is one of the lesser known Canary Islands. It has chosen to remain low-key, restricting the construction of high-rise holiday developments.  We found it to be charming and full of interest.  We travelled by train to Gatwick airport from our home in Hertfordshire, spending the night in the clean and cosy Premier Inn before our punctual morning flight.  Returning was less straightforward.  A forecast of snow in the London area held flights on runways all over Europe. Our plane stood on the tarmac for nearly two hours, so we were too late for our scheduled train journey home.  There was no room at the Premier Inn so we ended up using a different train company and an expensive taxi for the last leg.

But let us gloss over such unpleasantness.  We stayed at the Hacienda San Jorge in the village of Los Cancajos, a short drive from the airport and only a couple of miles from the island’s capital, Santa Cruz.  Our “room” was effectively a two-room apartment with double aspect over pool and ocean.  The accommodation blocks are set in beautiful gardens of which the hotel is so proud that guided tours are arranged.  We arrived in the evening of 5 January, as did the Three Kings en route to Bethlehem.  To clarify: Spanish Christmas is traditionally on 6 January, when Spanish children receive presents brought by the Magi.  These days, they are quite happy to receive presents on 25 December as well, but it meant for us that 6 January was a public holiday.

Los Cancajos has several attractive coves with full beach facilities, although you have to accept that they have black, volcanic sand. As I had booked bed and breakfast, we worked our way through the local restaurants.  I adore fish restaurants – my favourite source of protein, and someone else deals with the fins and scales – and they did not disappoint.  A local speciality is papas arrugadas, or “wrinkly potatoes”, cooked in their jackets in heavily salted water and extremely tasty as a result. And the native dwarf banana was well in evidence.
We took a local bus into Santa Cruz, packed like sardines after pickups outside the principal hotels.  The island’s capital has considerable charm, a fact not lost on the cruise companies who dock their leviathans several times a week.  The islanders shrug, take the money and are grateful that the visitors return to their cruise ships at the end of the day.  The city’s flower-bedecked balconies are a great photo opportunity, as is the replica of Columbus’ Santa Maria, paid for by returning emigrés.

Our first excursion was a day trip around the eastern side of the island.  We visited a splendid village house and a spectacular viewpoint dominated by a statue of a shepherd “vaulting”.  After minuscule samples at a rum distillery, we enjoyed lunch in a picturesque village where I was amazed to see flowerbeds planted up with poinsettias.  Like so many of us, I have never nurtured poinsettias more than a couple of weeks after Christmas.  They are everywhere in municipal planting in La Palma and can even be seen as tall, spindly bushes out in the wild.  Banana plantations cover much of the island and there are 7,000 banana farmers.  We were bombarded with facts about their life cycle and economic importance.  Our final stop was the cool, dank rain forest of Los Tilos, kept moist not by rain but by condensation from the mountain tops.

Our second excursion headed to the 2,400m high Roque de los Muchachos and its observatories.  La Palma is the site of several world-class telescopes, including our own Isaac Newton Group.  The site is very highly situated and enjoys low atmospheric and light pollution. It is second only to Hawaii as a pre-eminent astronomical observation site in the northern hemisphere.  The restrictions on tourist development are to protect the observatories and the revenue stream they generate.  After other scenic stops, the trip concluded with a view into the caldera, or extinct volcanic centre, of the island’s mountains. 

La Palma is the most westerly of the Canary Islands and so most exposed to the Atlantic and its changeable weather.  We wore shorts most days, but it was chilly by the evening.  At times, it was warm and sunny enough for the beach but it drizzled on occasion.  As you might expect, in January it was a destination for the more mature travellers, most of whom were Germans. Unlike its larger neighbours, La Palma does not depend on tourism.  Agriculture is more important. 

La Palma is a delightful destination. If you are a banana enthusiast, it is a must!  Although a steep volcanic island, La Palma’s extensive terraced cultivation means that a huge area is given over to banana plantations.  There are some 7,000 banana farmers on the island.  Apparently, it is a relatively easy fruit to manage. It only requires simple tools although there is the laborious process of trimming the blossoming ends off each individual banana as well as managing pests.  But several crops can be grown in a year and clever crop rotation ensures that the farmer is not overwhelmed during one intensive harvest season.

As the banana plant has no woody tissue, it is technically a herb.  It is also a feminist fruit! Only female plants are involved.  There is no male input.  If you look at a typical banana plant, there is usually an ancient stump, a vigorous main shoot and a new side shoot i.e. a decayed “grandmother”, an active “mother” and an up-and-coming “daughter”.  It is almost impossible to acquire banana plantations other than by inheritance or marriage.  A banana heiress is the most desirable girl on the island!•

 First published in VISA 132 (April 2017)

Urban Baker's Dozen (part I)

By David Gourley

Frankfurt ('Mainhatten')

Back in the eighties I had the idea that I would like to do a rail trip around Germany.  For various reasons it was not a practical proposition but when, a couple of years ago, I retired, I resurrected the idea.  Or at least thought about doing so.  The proposed trip was not really Cathy’s thing and in any case she was still working.  But she was keen that I go ahead and fulfil my ambition - and, no, it’s not because she wanted to get rid of me!  She urged me to stop thinking about the trip and actually go ahead and do it.

Whilst we did not both go on the trip, we did share an enjoyable afternoon booking it on the internet – something we couldn’t have done in the eighties.  The obvious choice of ticket would have been a German Rail Pass but in fact a Eurail Pass was the better option for it provided greater flexibility: one could use it on ten days, not necessarily consecutive, over the period of a month.  Pushing the boat out a bit, I got a first-class pass.  I realized that there was an opportunity cost if I confined its use to just one country.  So it did occur to me as I stood on Munich Station that I could, with my ticket, be going to Prague or Budapest or south into Italy.  But the ticket was the means to my end, a rail trip around Germany.

Next we booked stays in five hotels – I am not, I’m afraid, the kind of laidback or adventurous person who is happy to arrive in a city without knowing where they are going to stay that night.  The journey was from south to north through the centre of the country.  Only once did I venture west of the Rhine (but a few years previously we had done a Rhine Cruise, VISA 103-4).  And there was one foray into the former East, something else that wouldn’t have been possible, or at any rate would have been difficult, in the eighties since the Berlin Wall didn’t come down until the very end of that decade.  Berlin itself was not on my itinerary.  We had been there (VISA 89) and would like to go back, but it would require a fair bit of time to do it justice and I wanted to get around more.  I put together an itinerary, using Deutsche Bahn timetables, which gave a mix of time in my chosen five cities and rail trips to other cities.  I found the timetables to be very reliable so almost everything went to plan.  Finally we booked flights. 

I had three nights in Munich, as distinct from two elsewhere.  There is an S-bahn link from the airport direct to the Hauptbahnhof (main station) and my hotel was easily found, so near the station that it is virtually on the station.  I had the bright idea of using my pass on the S-bahn where it would have been accepted.  Cathy pointed out that I would thus be doing myself out of one of my ten days of more extensive travel.  My hotel was not the best of this trip, but it was friendly and, for the duration of one’s stay, gives one a complimentary travel pass for the city’s excellent transport system: buses, trams, S-bahn and U-bahn (metro). 

We had been to Munich a number of years previously, when our daughter had a short-term work posting there.  We had packed quite a lot into just a weekend, including a performance of the opera and a trip out to Neuschwanstein, the fairytale castle that inspired Disney, also taking in the historic city of Augsburg.  The castle was one of those built by supposedly “mad” King Ludwig who was deposed and, some believe, murdered by the Bavarian state.  But today Bavarians are surely grateful to him, given all the revenue from tourists flocking to see his castles. 

Munich is a handsome city.  The feel, I would say, is more Central than West European.  It is the capital of Bavaria, which in the nineteenth century was not quite sure that it wanted to be part of a united Germany and to this day maintains a strong sense of independence.

On my first evening there was time before dinner for a quick stroll into the centre.  Here, as in other German cities, the central area is a safe environment which is largely pedestrianized, but there were a couple of minor annoyances.  Firstly, it was necessary, on the way in from my hotel, to cross a busy main road and the wait could seem interminable.  Traffic, here and elsewhere in Germany, is allowed to pass through red lights if there are no pedestrians but the reverse doesn’t apply.  So one waits and waits and, even when the light does at last go green, one waits a bit longer since it seems to be not the done thing immediately to set forth.  Secondly there are more cyclists than back home, above all in Munich.  Yes, I know I should be applauding that since cycling is a healthy and very green form of transport.  And people were riding in responsible manner: no sign of any ‘lycra louts’.  Even so, I did in places feel a bit overwhelmed by the number of cyclists, with the pathway seemingly belonging more to them than to pedestrians. 

I noted on the first evening that one of the two towers of the beautiful main church, the Frauenkirche, was scaffolded up.  I had been intending that, as on my previous visit, I would go up to the top so hoped that it was the unscaffolded tower that was open to the public. 

The next two days followed my normal pattern of trips out of the city, followed by time in the city.  In Munich tram 19, which link the Hauptbahnhof, and thus my hotel, to the Ostbahnhof (or East Station), is a good way of seeing the city centre.  I also did some exploring on foot including a long stroll to the extensive English Garden, so named from the type of landscaping, reminiscent of ‘Capability’ Brown.  Here, for the first time, I came across a phenomenon not to my knowledge found in Britain: ‘love-locks’ or padlocks that can weigh down railings on bridges, romantic but considered by authorities to be something of a nuisance.

There were poignant reminders of World War II on my stroll to the Garden.  The Bürgersaalkirche contains the shrine to Pater Rupert Mayer who was an opponent of the Nazi regime and was canonized by Pope John Paul II in 1987.  He survived the war, but died of a stroke a few months later.  In the vicinity of the Bavarian Chancellery is a memorial to the White Rose, the Munich-based anti-Nazi group.  Sadly most of its members were executed but one member, Traute Lafrenz, is alive still, having emigrated after the war to the United States.  The White Rose looked forward to a “New Europe”, the bases of which would be “freedom of speech, freedom of religion, the protection of individual citizens from the arbitrary will of criminal regimes of violence”.  Inconceivable though it might have seemed at that time, just such a Europe was to come into being a few years later, thanks to far-sighted statesmen in their own country and elsewhere.  It is a Europe from which Britain, foolishly in my view, has decided to turn its back.

A dilemma posed itself on this, the first of my ten days of rail travel.  On double-decker trains I like to sit on the upper deck but on this train it was for second-class passengers, whereas my pass entitled me to first-class travel.  I stuck to first but wasn’t sure this was the right choice.  Odd that on the Continent trains, but not buses, are double-deck, whereas in the UK it’s the other way round.  In fact there once were double-deck trains in the UK.  When I first started work in the sixties, I sometimes commuted to and from London in such a train, one of just two. They ran on the lines out to Dartford, through the area where I lived at that time.  They were regarded as a failed experiment, but were retained for their working lives.

It was pleasant to sit back in my carriage, even if it was lower deck, and enjoy the Bavarian countryside.  Bavaria, I reflected, is a region which has everything, bar a sea coast: lakes, mountains, beautiful countryside, attractive towns and villages, a high standard of living, low unemployment...  what’s not to like?

Regensburg is located on the Danube and its Old Town is a UNESCO World Heritage Site.  It has been described as “Italy’s northernmost city”.   I made the discovery that Galerie Kaufhof, a nationwide chain of department stores, provides good buffet lunches at a reasonable price.  One invariably ascends to the fourth floor, passing the ladieswear and menswear floors.   Here I photographed my plate of chilli con carne.  I wouldn’t normally do such a thing but the reason here was the juxtaposition: this was an al fresco area overlooked by the city’s beautiful spires. 

I wandered through the Old Town, then across what is perhaps the city’s most iconic feature, the twelfth century Stone Bridge, which crosses the Danube.  Unfortunately it was being renovated so there was a lot of scaffolding and for most of the way across one had to use a temporary construction.  I wasn’t having much luck in this regard for, yes, back in Munich the scaffolded tower in the Frauenkirche was the one that is normally open to the public (one could still of course go inside the church).  The walk across the bridge was still worthwhile given the wonderful view back to the Old Town.  Located by the bridge in the Old Town is the historic Sausage Kitchen.  It purports to be the oldest continuously open public restaurant in the world.

My next journey took me out of Bavaria, into Baden-Württemberg and on to its capital, Stuttgart.  At its station there is a tower which one can ascend for free.  From here it is evident that, unlike Munich, this is not an especially beautiful city.  It is by no means an unpleasant city but after World War II, its centre was rebuilt in modern, functional style, apparent in Königstrasse, the main thoroughfare which runs through the centre from the station.

I called in at the tourist office.  Naturally enough local authorities like to blow their trumpets and the city guide eulogizes the main square, the Schlossplatz, claiming it to be “one of Europe’s most beautiful squares”.  Well, I’ve been fortunate enough to visit St Mark’s Square in Venice, Old Town Square in Prague and Grande Place in Brussels and I’m sorry to say to Stuttgarters that their square, pleasant though it might be, does not begin to compare.  Scattered around are a few historic buildings and some parkland.  I enjoyed my time in Stuttgart but soon concluded that the remainder of my day would be better spent seeing more of Munich. 

To get back to the Hauptbahnhof I used the U-bahn.  I was impressed that quite a few cities in Germany have metros: I had used the one in Munich and was also to use those in Frankfurt and in Hanover.  In Britain, by contrast, the only metros outside London are the circular line in Glasgow and the innovative Tyneside Metro in Newcastle.   I think that in Germany cities generally have more power and influence than their British counterparts and, as a result, have greater civic consciousness.   This might be something to do with geopolitics, for the capital of West Germany was a fairly small city, Bonn.  Even though Berlin has resumed its rightful place as capital of a united Germany, I don’t think the other big cities are going to bend the knee any time soon.  England by contrast tends to be fairly ‘Londoncentric’ – something I think that is increasingly recognized, resulting in the proposals for a ‘Northern Powerhouse’. 

I chose the time of my train carefully.  Some trains would simply have repeated yesterday’s journey to Stuttgart and carried on from there.  I wanted to see new territory, so got a train that went north to Nuremberg, then west to Frankfurt.  In Würzburg I was impressed that there were hillside vineyards very close by.  

Ominously, a weather map at Munich Station showed bright sunshine over Bavaria and rain over the rest of Germany.  Sure enough it started to rain when we reached Aschaffenburg.  This city is still in Bavaria, but far closer to Frankfurt than Munich; it is considered by Lonely Planet to be “in style terms more Hessian than Bavarian”.  Fortunately it was dry again by the time I got to Frankfurt and rain was not to give me too much trouble in coming days. 

This was the nicest of my five stays.  My hotel was the Intercontinental, a short walk from the station.  The friendly receptionist offered me a pass that gave use of the top floor lounge for €50 for a 24-hour period.  Usually one doesn’t, as an ordinary client, get a sniff of a hotel lounge.  The deal included complimentary food and drink, including beer or wine.  Given that breakfast, not here included, was over €30, it was a no-brainer.  I enjoyed a light lunch in the lounge, and a good dinner.

The view from my fourteenth floor room was one of my best ever.  I looked straight out at the city’s skyscrapers.  These are an unusual feature for a German, indeed for a Continental European, city and they have earned Frankfurt the sobriquet “Mainhatten”.  I walked into the city.  This entailed a pleasant stroll along the Main.  I crossed over the river to the south side then re-crossed later on using one of the two old pedestrian bridges.  From there it was a short distance to the Old Town, centred on Römerplatz, an area that was lovingly rebuilt after the World War II bombing.  I was pleased that despite my advancing years – I was now heading into my late sixties – I was able without difficulty to ascend the tower of the Cathedral, 328 steps. 

I had wondered whether “Mainhatten” would be a rather cold sort of place, but not so at all.  This is an attractive, cultured and vibrant city that oozes prosperity.  It is also a historic city, its modernity notwithstanding.  In former times it was the place where the kings and emperors of the Holy Roman Empire (which was not, it has been said, holy or Roman or an empire) were crowned.  The Empire, a collection of numerous independent states, included most of present-day Germany so it might be said that Frankfurt was the unofficial German capital.  Immediately after World War II, it was the putative capital of West Germany.  It seemed the obvious choice, roughly in the middle of the country, on the Main so not in South or North Germany, in historic terms the true divide between Germans, rather than the artificial East-West split resulting from the Cold War.  But the wily Konrad Adenauer, the first Chancellor of West Germany, wanted the capital to appear makeshift since he didn’t want it to be thought that the division of Germany was permanent.  Frankfurt, he feared, would settle down to the role too comfortably.  Hence the choice of a much smaller city, Bonn.  Today Frankfurt doesn’t get to be the capital of anything: it is by far the largest town in the Land of Hesse but the kudos of being its capital goes to Wiesbaden.  But, as it houses the HQ of the European Central Bank, it might be regarded as the financial capital of Europe. 

I wandered on into the financial district though not as far as the towers of “Mainhatten”.  The Stock Exchange is in a surprisingly old building.  There is a plaque here commemorating Ludwig Erhard, the Finance Minister who presided over West Germany’s Wirtschaftswunder or Economic Miracle.  He succeeded Adenauer as Federal Chancellor but it is thought that he was far less happy in that role.

With dinner that night I had a glass of cider.  I was surprised to find that this is a Frankfurt speciality since, as I have found to my chagrin, cider isn’t generally available on the Continent.  It wasn’t anything like cider back home: something of an acquired taste but, given time, I might have acquired it.

First  Published in VISA 131 (February 2017)

Before the Invasion

By Maxine Bates

My fellow Travel SIG member Helen and I visited Cuba some months ago, but it seems fitting that I finally find time to write about our trip as Fidel Castro dies. We had wanted to see more than the capital and a beach resort so opted for an eight day tour staying in four places and using casas as accommodation. These are rather like English B&Bs so we stayed with local families rather than in hotels. Some were better than others!  Upon arrival in Havana – via Madrid - we were picked up from the airport late at night and taken to Casa Dalia. Let’s just say we would never have found it on our own as located on a small street through a narrow door and up several flights of steep stairs. The owners only spoke Spanish, so there was a lot of pantomiming at breakfast the following morning!

Our first day was at leisure before meeting up with the rest of the tour group for dinner so we opted to do the hop on/off bus tour which covered most of the city. We alighted in Republic Square where two large buildings displayed the faces of Fidel Castro and Che Guevara. We also spent time in the Christopher Columbus cemetery which is the third largest cemetery in the world and largest in South/Central America. We were offered a tour but declined and wandered around on our own having enquired about the highlights. They included a monument to firefighters and one for infertile women. We also saw a funeral cortege arrive during our visit. The US embassy was pointed out on the bus tour, but you probably wouldn’t know it was there otherwise. The Capitol building is based on the one in Washington DC and is surrounded by bright coloured old American cars ready to transport tourists around the capital. We found the Bacardi building where you pay a small free to ride in the elevator for views over the city. Taking a break from the heat we found Sloppy Joe’s. The bar was founded in 1917 and became our favourite as a great place to sip the Cuban cocktails of mojitos and Cuba libres.

Having met the rest of our small tour group, mostly from Australia and New Zealand, the following morning we set off for Playa Girón, otherwise known as Bay Of Pigs. This was the site of the infamous failed invasion of Cuba and now home to a museum. Then onward to the city of Cienfuegos where the architecture is heavily influenced by the French migrants who settled there in the 19th century with many buildings having been given UNESCO world heritage status. “Cienfuegos is the city I like the best,” wrote Beni More, one of Cuba’s most important musicians in the first half of the 20th century and who now has a statue on the Prado, one of the wide avenues. I had wanted to visit the Palacio De Valle and was delighted when our tour guide took us there for a free cocktail on their roof terrace accompanied by live music. Our accommodation in Cienfuegos was the lovely Ines Maria where breakfast included cereal, fruit, sausages, omelettes, cucumber, cheese and bread with coffee taken on the roof terrace. A new cruise terminal is being constructed in the city so it may not remain quite as sleepy for much longer.

En route to Trinidad, we stopped in Santa Clara which is the final resting place of Che Guevara, even though he actually spent the end of his life in Bolivia. It was in Santa Clara that Che Guevara and his rebels successfully derailed a military train carrying weapons and ammunition to be used against Fidel Castro, an act  credited with winning the revolution. The city of Trinidad was founded in 1514 and is filled with cobbled streets – do not attempt to walk in anything other than the flattest shoes! – and colourful houses. The shops were quirky, selling such items as handbags made from ring pulls - a case of waste not, want not! Although very pretty it is decidedly third world as we lost both water and electricity supply at some points during our two night stay at Hostal Rosita. Not good in sweltering temperatures when you need cold showers and air con! The evening entertainment was a traditional buffet dinner followed by group salsa dancing lesson with the option to visit The Music House for live music later. This venue turned out to be outdoor seating on concrete steps surrounding a stage.  As we started getting bitten by insects, we didn’t stay long!   

The area around Trinidad was once the heart of Cuba’s sugar industry and a lot of sugar cane is still processed here. We visited an old mill and sugar plantation and hiked through Parque El Cubano to a lovely waterfall. Unfortunately by the time we reached Playa Ancon, said to be one of Cuba’s best beaches, it started raining so it was a very quick dip before a cocktail in a coconut shell. La canchanchara is the famous local drink from Trinidad made with rum, honey and lemon. More like a dessert than a drink!  Our final destination was Vinales where we stayed at Casa Alvy Y Ada.  After a boat ride through the Cuevas Del Indio and a walk through the Slave Cave we visited a tobacco plantation including a demonstration of cigar rolling. The afternoon was at leisure so we found a tapas bar for lunch washed down with pina colada, where we were presented with a full size bottle of rum to add our own alcohol. I can’t ever imagine that happening in the UK! We then visited Vinales botanical gardens where, for a small donation, we were given a guide who explained the fruits and flowers and trees.  We said goodbye to our driver and guide and boarded the equivalent of a National Express coach back to Havana for my personal highlight of the tour, a ride in one of the old American cars around the capital. As our group had three cars it became somewhat of a race with horns tooting and all of us waving our arms in the air. Great fun! On our final day in Havana we visited Plaza Vieja’s camera obscura, saw the room where Ernest Hemingway stayed for six years in Hotel Ambos Mundos and took a tour of the Havana Club rum factory, rounded off with a strong Cuba libre in their bar. Too many of those and we could have been refused boarding!

I’m glad I visited Cuba before the Americans descend en masse because the island is going to change. Whether that makes things better or worse remains to be seen. And I’m glad I saw more of the island than just Havana and a beach. But would I return? Probably not as it was a bit ‘rough and ready’ and very strange having no internet access or phone signal and not seeing any Western branded products. If you’re thinking of visiting the real Cuba… go now before it changes forever.

First published in VISA 132 (April 2017)

The Floating Garden

By Elizabeth Johnstone

"Madeira!" "Wood!" The cry went up from Portuguese sailors in the service of Prince Henry the Navigator during the explorations of the 15th century.  The tall, straight tree trunks of the primeval laurisilva forst on this Atlantic island would be ideal for ship's masts and other repairs.

The island was Madeira, now a popular holiday destination. We took our first holiday there in June 2016, with a Thomson package flying out of Gatwick and staying at the Porto Santa Maria Hotel in Funchal.

Madeira is a volcanic island and level ground is at a premium. Most of the hotels are perched on cliff tops just outside the city, on beautiful quintas or estates, commanding spectacular views over the Atlantic. A downside is that their guests rely on hotel shuttles public buses to get in and out of the city centre. Our hotel, by contrast, was one of the few at sea level. We were within a  few steps of the Old Town with its dozens of restaurants and could easily walk along the seafront to the marina or into the historic city centre. 

"The Floating Garden" of Madeira is indeed a gardener's paradise. We visited the famous Botanic Gardens above the city,  braving the public buses whose neighbours have nerves  of steel as they negotiate vertiginous hairpin bends. Another horticultural treat was the Monte Palace Tropical Gardens. The cable car provided spectacular views along its 3km length, before depositing us outside the gardens high up on the mountainside. Areas of the gardens have different themes, all highly photogenic. I enjoyed the stretch of laurasilva forest, as exploited by those fifteenth-century sailors and others. The famous basket toboggans leave from the Monte hilltop but, it being Sunday when we visited, they were not operating. Unlike recent UK military campaigns, an exit strategy is essential if you fancy hurtling down on a toboggan. There is no public transport at the end of the run. Taxi drivers will take you at a price either down to the bottom or back up to the cable car.

From our hotel, you could walk along the front to the marina and cruise terminal, or up to the historical city centre. Madeira is a popular cruise destination - indeed, my son and his girlfriend had visited it as such and guessed correctly that it would appeal to us. During our stay, Italian and German cruise ships docked. Passengers disembarking from cruise ships are greeted by the CR7 Museum which features the trophies of one Cristiano Ronaldo, Madeira's most famous son. There is also a statue of "The World's Most Famous Footballer" which provokes giggles when you mention it to the local people. You will have to see for yourself!

The historic centre contains many churches, convents and museums as well as pleasant bars and restaurants. We visited Blandy's Wine Lodge to learn about the manufacture of Madeira wine.  The Farmer's Market looked like a huge Art Deco cinema and showcased many local exotic flowers and fruits.

Our Thomson rep held the traditional information meeting on the first morning, largely for the purposes of selling excursions. Someone from hotel management also turned up and offered us 40 euros to come on the guided tour of their other hotel development on the island. 

We booked the day trip around the west of the island. Our first stop was at the sea cliffs of Cabo Girão, with its scary glass-bottomed viewing platform. After morning coffee at the seaside village of Ribeira Brava, we continued our tour along tortuous and ever-rising roads, observing the levadas, or irrigation channels. Numerous walking trails follow these channels. The Madeiran crop par excellence is the banana. We walked through a banana plantation and had the cultivation process explained. Lunch was at the Cachalote restaurant in Porto Moniz, the name ("sperm whale") being a nod to the region's whaling history. "Coach trip" lunches can be mediocre, but this one was not bad at all, although I could have done without the girl in traditional costume posing with every tourist for a photo opportunity. Porto Moniz is famous for its natural saltwater pools carved out of basalt rocks at the headland. Lunch was followed by another picturesque village in the afternoon. In Funchal, we had a huge number of reasonably-priced restaurants to choose from. Someone was generally outside exhorting you to come in, but they were perfectly courteous and I developed a knack of avoiding eye contact. We ate fish seven nights out of seven - scabbard fish, cod, salmon, swordfish, tuna, parrot fish and maybe more. A couple of the restaurants offered fado music,  one of my favourites. A singer sings of love and loss, of the men far away on the fishing boats, accompanied by the Portuguese guitar and the classical Spanish guitar.

We thoroughly enjoyed Madeira and are planning at least one return trip. The eastern side of the island is waiting to be explored, not to mention some of those fish restaurants and Madeira wine lodges. And I will have to listen to Gardener's Question Time more attentively in the meantime.

First published in VISA 130 (December 2016)

Big Easy Christmas

By Gillian Kennedy

I have wanted to visit New Orleans for a very long time, ever since a friend did a two centre holiday to New Orleans and New York and said she much preferred the Big Easy to the Big Apple. As I love New York I just had to find out for myself.

My first attempt (during our 12 month globetrotting trip) was stymied by Hurricane Katrina making landfall two weeks before we were due to arrive. Several years later I was looking for ideas on where to spend Christmas. I discovered that, as a popular conference venue, hotels and restaurants in New Orleans make special efforts to attract visitors over the Christmas period, when there is no convention business. Being married to a Scotsman, avoiding peak flight and hotel prices over the holiday period was definitely an attractive option!

I booked our flights from Dublin (where we live) with Delta. I was a bit concerned when a friend said that Delta stands for “Doesn’t Ever Leave the Airport” but actually our flights went incredibly smoothly. Flying to the US from Dublin has the added bonus of passing through US customs and immigration at Dublin airport, which is much quicker and a lot less hassle than doing it on arrival in the States. After landing at Atlanta we got to the gate for our New Orleans flight within half an hour, without having to pass through any additional security.

We had booked a lovely B&B called Royal Street Courtyard in the Marigny, close to Frenchmen Street. As we were receiving a warm welcome and detailed guidance on where to go and what to do from our host Philip, we got the first hint of what a wonderful place NOLA (New Orleans Louisiana) is - a brass band passed by, complete of course with the obligatory second line. We had only just arrived and already we were experiencing what has been described as “the quintessential New Orleans art form – a jazz funeral without a body”. Of course we had to go out onto the verandah to watch the second line walking & twirling behind the band (first line) before getting back to the business in hand.

We freshened up and headed out to explore, wandering around a night market on Frenchmen before having a wonderful meal at a place recommended by Philip – Adolfo’s above the Apple Barrel. Here we had the best meal we’d had all year with the Scotsman opting for grouper with ocean sauce while I treated myself to rack of lamb.  Adolfo’s doesn’t take bookings, but it was no hardship to have a drink in the Apple Barrel while waiting for our table. After dinner we headed to the Spotted Cat for some live music before yawning got the better of me and we had an early night.

I had researched in advance what there was to do in NOLA over Christmas, as I was a bit concerned we would run out of things to do, or places would be shut over the holiday period. I needn’t have worried – we stayed for a week and didn’t get to see everything we wanted to see. That gives us a great excuse to go back some time and catch what we missed – places like the Audubon zoo, aquarium, insectarium, the Cabildo (the Louisiana state museum), the Civil War museum, or activities such as taking a trip on a paddle steamer, doing a swamp tour or a Katrina tour. 

The day after we arrived, we were spoiled for choice for Christmassy activities. Having checked out the French market and treated ourselves to coffee and beignets at the Café du Monde, we then went on a tour of private homes in the French quarter. These are open to the public just once a year, to raise money for the “Patio Planters of the Vieux Carré”, which aims to preserve and beautify the French Quarter. It was very special to see around people’s homes, all decked out in their Christmas finery. Here we got our first taste of how friendly people are in New Orleans. I went round the corner in one home to find the Scotsman ensconced on the sofa, chatting to the home owners. I was quickly invited to join them and after a lovely chat, not only were we invited back any time during our stay but we were instructed to say hi to the chatelaine of a plantation house we were visiting on Christmas Eve, as she was a friend of theirs.

This is something we found throughout our stay – whether visitors or locals, people would hear our Irish and Scottish accents and strike up conversations with us. This is not something we’ve come across in any other big city and it made our stay extra special. After the walking tour we went to the cathedral for a concert and again, hearing our accents, people near us turned around in their seats and started chatting to us. We enjoyed a lovely Christmas concert, including hearing the city’s mayor singing O Holy Night. There followed a period of confusion as we were supposed to go carolling in Jackson Square, immediately outside the cathedral. After a while we worked out that the carolling had been brought indoors due to heavy rain so crowds of people were trying to leave the concert and more crowds were trying to get in. Once we worked out what was going on we headed back to our seats and enjoyed joining in with the carol singing.

I had planned to visit the two museums on either side of the cathedral (the Cabildo and the Presbytère) on Christmas Eve. They should have been open as it wasn’t an official holiday in Louisiana but unfortunately they were closed. So we found other ways to occupy ourselves, including watching some excellent street performances, until it was time to join our pre-booked tour to the San Francisco plantation house. We usually avoid coach/large group tours, but we took this one to experience the Christmas Eve bonfires on the levees, said to light the way for Saint Nicholas.

The plantation house itself was a bit of a disappointment, being so close to oil refineries and the like! However, by hanging back until the end, we ended up getting a tour in a group of eight. As requested, we said hello to the chatelaine of the house, from her friends whom we’d met the day before, and were warmly greeted with a hug as a result. After our tour we scoffed down our Christmas meal and then it was to the buses, which received a police escort to the levees. Here we were greeted by the spectacular sight of bonfire after bonfire all along the levees, set really rather close together. Some of the locals seemed to have a death wish – using kerosene to light some of the bonfires and in one case sliding down the side of the levee at great speed and almost into the path of an oncoming car. There was a great festive spirit about and almost every house facing the levees seemed to be having some kind of house party. If we’d had alcohol with us we’d have been quite tempted to blag our way into one of the them. It was certainly a memorable way to spend Christmas Eve.

On Christmas Day itself we started in a more chilled out fashion with bubbles in bubbles – treating ourselves to a bottle of prosecco while relaxing in the hot tub in the courtyard at the back of our guesthouse. We then meandered through the French quarter, to find a surprising number of people out and about, including a lovely Canadian couple we’d met on the tour the day before (we kept bumping into people from our group of 8 time after time over the next few days). We had a lovely lunch at the very colonial feeling Bombay Club, getting into conversation with a nice Aussie couple at the adjacent table. Then we repaired to Pat O’Brien’s (where else?) to sample both a Hurricane and a Cyclone - very nice they were, too. 

We then switched from bubbles to baubles and headed out by tram to see the spectacular light displays of “Celebration in the Oaks” in City Park. This is a holiday lights festival with more than 165,000 visitors annually. The 25 acres of the park are bedecked with all kinds of light displays, many with special themes such as nursery rhymes or bugs and butterflies. Our firm favourite though was an animated and audio version of the Cajun Night before Christmas, complete with Santa on his sleigh being pulled not by reindeer but by alligators. This was a wonderfully festive way to spend Christmas night.

In addition to Christmassy activities we had plenty to see and do in our week in NOLA. We spent a full day at the National World War II museum and still didn’t manage to see everything we wanted to see. I did, however, have the honour of shaking hands with a 95 year old D Day veteran, who had the misfortune of being parachuted into the wrong location but lived to tell the tale.   You may wonder why an American national museum is located in New Orleans at all, when most national museums are in Washington DC. Well, the answer is simple – the D Day landing craft (also known as Higgins boats or LCVPs) were designed by Andrew Higgins of Higgins Industries and built in New Orleans. General Dwight Eisenhower is quoted as saying:

“Andrew Higgins ... is the man who won the war for us. ... If Higgins had not designed and built those LCVPs, we never could have landed over an open beach. The whole strategy of the war would have been different.”

The museum was originally called the D-Day museum and focused initially on the amphibious invasion of Normandy. It was designated the National World War II museum in 2003. When you arrive the atrium contains not only several aircraft suspended from the ceiling and a Higgins boat to inspect but also a Union Pacific Train Car. After paying for your tickets you board the train and are on your way to war!

We found the museum fascinating, with excellent displays on subjects such as Planning for D Day, the D Day beaches, the Home Front and various “D Day Invasions” in the Pacific (as they were described). I really enjoyed listening to some of the audio accounts of people who had lived through the war – from all sides of the conflict. There is a 4D film called Beyond All Boundaries, narrated by Tom Hanks (who else?), which looks at American involvement in the war. The only disappointment was a slightly underwhelming submarine experience, inspired by the last patrol of the USS Tang. 

We found many other things to enjoy in our week in New Orleans. Highlights included a walking tour in the Garden District and another in one of the cemeteries (there are plenty of tours to choose from), the Ogden Museum of Southern Art, an IMAX film about Hurricane Katrina and the Katrina and Mardi Gras exhibitions in the Presbytère museum. We found the information on Katrina very moving and learned a lot about the appalling way many residents were treated who did not have the wherewithal to evacuate. This included information on the notorious Danziger Bridge shooting which was very much in the news when we were there. One woman became quite distressed as she went around the Presbytère exhibition, as she had lived through Katrina and was calling out things like “they treated us like animals”. Very sobering to think how quickly things can descend into chaos.

While there is lots to see and do in New Orleans, some of the best fun is to be had just by wandering around and sampling the wonderful food, drink and music the city has to offer. 

We’ve tried and can recommend the following:

• Food – coffee and beignets in Café du Monde or Café Beignet (we preferred the former, although it is a real tourist trap it has great atmosphere), dinner at Adolfos, gelato or cakes at Sucre, po’boys and muffalettas, gumbo and creole jambalaya, gator bits and (on the posher end of the scale) Reveillon dinners, available at reduced prices in many of the more upmarket restaurants during the holiday season. Reveillon dinners were apparently inspired by the Creole tradition of having a big family meal in the early hours of Christmas morning, after returning from midnight mass. This was revived in the 1990s and moved to paying locations and a more conventional time of day.
• Drink – Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop on Bourbon Street (allegedly the oldest operating bar in the country), Hurricanes and Cyclones in Pat O’Brien’s (check out the duelling piano show if you can) and the Old New Orleans rum distillery, where the high water mark from Katrina flooding is visible
• Music – in particular we liked what we heard at the Apple Barrel, the Spotted Cat, and Café Negril, which was absolutely hopping with a great bluesy band on Christmas Eve. The buskers outside the cathedral were worth a listen and we got to see a great second line for a wedding at the Hotel Monteleone. We loved the music and vibe of Frenchmen, whereas Bourbon Street at night is like Dublin’s Temple Bar x10, with a less enjoyable atmosphere. Most places on Frenchmen don’t make a cover charge, they just pass a bucket round periodically so you can put a few dollars in. Most places (but not the Spotted Cat) allow you to have “to go” cups, so you can take your drink from bar to bar and just move between music venues as and when the mood takes you.
• Wandering around – the beautiful French quarter of course, but also the elegant Garden District, around Frenchmen and into Faubourg Marigny where we stayed, plus Louis Armstrong park and of course the cemeteries. However do take advice on where is safe to walk. Only a few blocks from our guesthouse was considered dangerous and Philip carefully marked up our map to show us where was safe and unsafe. For example he insisted we take the free shuttle to the rum museum at 2815 Frenchmen in the 9th ward, a distance we would normally have walked.

Summing up: I’m so glad I finally got to New Orleans – and Christmas was the perfect time to visit. Not only were there lots of festive extras to enjoy and the weather was mild with just one wet day but you’re not being ripped off by seasonal price increases, due to the gap left by convention business. Yes, it does have a reputation for being dangerous, but that’s probably true of a lot of big US cities – just follow local advice on where is safe to go. We just loved the vibe of the place and the warm welcome we got from everyone we met. I’ll definitely return some day – maybe next time for Mardi Gras!

First published in VISA 128 (August 2016)