Said weekend started last Friday, we each took the day off and took our quick and usual route into the centre; meeting outside Leicester Square, cases in tow, ready to be tourists for a couple of days. After apple juice and lunch in St James’ park we took the Northern Line to Old Street and checked in, electrified by the overwhelming trendiness that is both the hotel and surrounding area.

Note the scissor, paper, stone pillows. With pre-booked tickets for Avenue Q at the 5:30pm matinee it wasn’t long before we were back on the streets, exploring Hoxton and Shoreditch and grabbing a Tortilla (potato quiche) and roasted veggies from the excellent and delicious Food Hall on Old Street. We LOVE this place and would spend a fortune here if left unaccompanied.

Middle of the middle in the stalls we watched the well praised Avenue Q as the Gary Coleman references whisked over our heads and the ‘grab your dick and double click’ line resounded. Though we enjoyed it, the abundant acclaim meant it did not meet our high expectations. Away from the Noel Coward theatre and back to Hoxton Square where we had reserved a table at The Apprentice, as recommended by a friend. A little unnerved at the emptiness of the place we perused the night menu’s offerings, opting for the spicy leek and carrot soup of the day starter and the “Osso Bucco with risotto Millanise and gremolata sauce” as main, with Sam choosing the Salmon and spinach dish. Osso Bucco is a dish of tasty veal shanks and it was pure bliss — I didn’t need my knife to cut the meat, it simply fell apart, all juicy and scrumptious — it was perfect.

On Saturday we considered rushing to Leicester square to grab theatre tickets early in the morning; but rising late at 10am we quickly abandoned this notion, instead just following our noses. Up ‘n’ down Brick Lane, past Les Trois Garcons — too eccentric for Sam’s tastes, to the Food Hall for caramelized garlic bread, cheese, spinach tortilla and anchovy cauliflowers, respectively devoured by the canal off Upper Street near Angel.

Darting back in via tube we saw the sites; Trafalgar square, Buckingham palace, Hyde Park and all that. After a tea/cappuccino recuperation stop spent watching the passing horses and cyclists in Hyde Park we tried to find an evening event. All the movies at the BFI film festival were sold out, as were any shows we’d planned to see — judging by the boards in the square. Music events were the next option but of course the weekend doesn’t have free papers to look these up! Going out on a limb, we headed to the Apollo Theatre looking for tickets to Rain Man starring Josh Hartnett and Adam Godley; luck would have it they still had some and for £31 each we grabbed upper circle seats for the 7:30pm showing. With two hours to spare we had a set menu Chinese dinner at Mr Kong’s in Chinatown — the usual duck pancakes, sesame bread, seaweed et al.

Neither of us had seen the Dustin Hoffman movie, we went in without any expectations and without grounds for comparison. We left absolutely stunned — wow; the play was brilliant with Godley and Hartnett supremely leaving us on tender hooks. This was the first straight up play we’d seen together and no doubt we’ll be back for more of the same.

Sunday took us to the areas of London we wouldn’t normally go, London Bridge, Tower Bridge, the Tower of London and later South Kensington for lunch and the museums. We stopped at the Hoop & Toy in Kensington for a relatively cheap but tasty steak/burger with a bottle of red ‘Cape Promise Pinotage’. With alcohol fueling our system we pleasantly stumbled around the Victoria and Albert museum, napping by the large middle Eastern carpets, and then later to the Natural History Museum — through Geology, past the birds and into the realm of the dinosaurs, before being ushered out at the close of play.

More tea breaks back at the Hoxton Hotel where we picked up our bags and aimlessly chatted as the time whisked away, soaking up the coolness of the vibe, shoes off and relaxed. Then home and an end to our wonderful weekend; looking forward to the next one.

Heading over appeared easier on paper, short flight to CDG, Paris then an 11 hour Air France flight to Salt Lake City (do not go to the Travelodge near Heathrow and certainly do not taste their food — if you must there is a nicer looking pub just around the corner). Looking online beforehand we noted the movies we wanted to watch, etc. Unfortunately the flight was with an Air France partner, Delta, without a sophisticated in flight entertainment system — instead giving us in the aisle airings of the awful “Little Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day” and “Kung Fu Panda”, leaving 7 hours to spare. No doubt the complimentary Kronenbourg 1664 helped the trip go a little faster. All in all it felt like a short haul flight — just really really long. Leaving the dull London 12C we were treated to a basking 88F on arrival, where we picked up our 4x4 Suzuki rental and proceeded towards Park City in the mountains.

With a little time to spare before we collapsed in a heap of jet lag, we nipped to Ruby Tuesday’s at the Kimball junction for our first dose of American dining alongside the odd tipping culture and the first of the auto-free refills — auto in that they always come back to fill you up. Dr Pepper, overly salted fries and a glorious Bison burger with ranch sauce nestled nicely in my tummy when I slipped into an unconscious 11 hour nap, bringing me nicely into Utah time.

Our rooms were conjoined at the wall, with handy inner door, to form a cozy, large and homely ‘mega room’ of duplicates. Full kitchen, half kitchen, washer dryer, one of those ‘garbage disposal’ grinders, balcony, three sofas, one jacuzzi, one shower with steamer and seat, one bath, four televisions each with cable, a large dining table, luxury bed robes, two safes, two king sized double beds and to wrap it all off a free newspaper in the morning (USA Today)! We were also treated to a heated half in-half out pool with two hot tubs aside it, pool tables, table tennis tables and a basketball net. Though most of my holidays are about getting out and seeing as much of the culture as possible, on the days we had nothing planned or didn’t feel like going too far, these facilities made staying ‘at home’ a lot more enjoyable.

First stop, Walmart and then Smiths for much needed groceries, bagels, drinks and Peanut Butter M&Ms! After a green chili and cheese bagel and something I prefer to call plastic yellow rather than cheese filling, we nosed around Park City’s old main street, with a little bit of shopping and a gander at some puppies in an antiques store with old native, hunting and skiing memorabilia. Eleanor cooked a very tasty roast for dinner, though she was too tired to eat most of it.

Day 2 and the Indian summer continued as we drove down the valley into Salt Lake to pick up a map, visit the “This is the place” monument and carry on towards a small Mall with a terrible food court and Antelope Island. The island sits in the middle of the great lake and is home to a herd of Bison, ‘wave cut platforms’ and a lowly little ranch with some informational plaques. The second shot below was taking from the eating point where we enjoyed some juicy refreshments before heading home.

Wednesday became an outlet store shopping trip complete with red Vans shoes, a lot of relaxing, some pool side sunning, swimming and a meal at the local Good Thymes. Home cooked bread and butter, Brie and Roasted Chicken Quesadilla and Down South Nachos prior to some local Rainbow fresh water trout; all lovely but shame about the over peppering. The meat loaf was also palatable.

With morning pancakes and syrup I packed my bag for a trip up Mount Timpanogos to view the caves. Of course, no one else in my family was up to the 1300ft hike up the paved track, so I did it alone. The thin windy road towards the entrance of the path granted stunning beautiful views of the mountains and foliage complete with autumnal colours — at the cost of nail biting corners; Eleanor was having none of it and was later glad to escape to the safe confines of another shop. Meanwhile I trekked up the mountainside for 90 minutes, past sheer drops, rattlesnake habitats, chipmunks and spray painted red areas you aren’t allowed to stop in, to reach the three large cave systems at the top. Through the ragged limestone formations, out the other side and back down in half an hour and I rejoined the troupe. In the evening we met a local named Elaine and her family in Ogden where we were treated to turkey and other tasty treats. Back at home I caught the highlights of the Vice Presidential Debate, impressed by Biden.

The weekend brought with it rain, lots and lots of rain. In it we drove around Heber City and up the monument for those in the region that have fought in wars, before going down the valley and stopping at University Mall to buy yet more things — Eleanor finding that Nordstrom had in stock some beauty products she’d been looking for.

Luckily enough, the sun made its return on Monday in time for a day out with an old friend of Stuart’s; from peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and views of the Wabash front we were taken down into Salt Lake to see temple square and the other latter day saints monuments and the view from the top of state street. Then a stop off at Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory, a quick trip to the air field to see the aircraft he pilots ($25m Challenger) and back home for a fine BBQ and a game of Ticket to Ride with the family.

After Stuart hurt his ankle, probably playing table tennis with me, the rest of us drove down to Heber (after topping up the rear tire with a little bit of air, following the prompt on screen warning we were given) to go on the valley railway. We didn’t get the steam train, instead a more forceful looking engine, and for $30 we each rode down into the valley. Having driven this route a couple of times now this wasn’t the most exhilarating of trips though it did give a welcomed break to the road, and from the rear cart, which was open to the elements, you could see the snow capped mountains (they had a dusting overnight it seems) and the autumn leaves.

That evening we tried out the Hapa Grill; a sushi bar. Here I was treated to a very tasty thai beef salad; the beef and crushed peanuts really did the trick. I also took the opportunity to introduce mum and Eleanor to the wonders of sushi, starting first with the much loved California Roll (crab, cucumber and avocado) and later trying the Eel which didn’t go down too well. Stuart of course stayed well away from it all; instead sticking to his faithful root beer and refills.

It was about this time that Eleanor developed a severe pain in one of her rear teeth, leading to severe agony, many painkillers, sleepless nights and an eventual trip to a dentist on our last Friday. For $350 we found out that her root canal was infected, needed cleaning out and refilling. Loaded with powerful but nauseating painkillers, antibiotics, a syringe and some X-rays, Eleanor made it through the rest of the holiday dosed up, docile and puffy faced. Though nothing but positive things to say about the dentist she saw.

That kind of put a damper on our plans for the end of the week; later that day Eleanor caught up on her sleep whilst we visited the Utah Olympic park; I conceived of many ways to beat the ball bearing slalom games at the visitor center and get the top scores before checking out the freestyle ski jumps and the bobsleigh run from a distance.

We ate at Squatters along the way from Westgate towards PC, the Polygamy Porter ale was scrumptious but the food was distinctly lacking.

Friday turned bitterly cold and with Saturday came snow. A couple of inches falling in just an hour. Armed with a list of targets to be met, we set off with a mission; first heading North to a “Super Target”, then back down through Salt Lake, Provo and eventually Ogden, to visit a proper Steakhouse and see Elaine again; Eleanor and I opting to do some last minute shopping and picking up some fantastic bargains in Aeropostale. The succulent 9oz filet with jacket potato was delicious. Before packing we made one final stop at Walmart for treats and the Vans outlet so I could buy 3 more pairs of radiant but glorious shoes at cheap cheep prices.

More overnight snow led to our death defying down the mountain trek into Salt Lake to catch our 8:30am flight, where the lanes were unclear, the tracks hard to follow and the car ready to escape from beneath us, though helpfully warning of icy conditions. Through mum’s excellent driving and nerve we made it to the rental drop off point, boarded our plane and we were flying away home, this time with in flight entertainment (Indy 4, Must Like Dogs and The Baker) and empty seats to lie down on — oh what a difference it makes.

The end.

P.S. … Pumpkin Ale is disgusting:

And this guy is really cool looking:

Rewinding to last Wednesday, I left the office amidst a flurry of work for two weeks, lugging my suitcase behind. In West Ewell, after crossing London, we ate Sam’s risotto of “things left in the fridge”, I watched Man Utd nervously and luckily win the Champions League against Chelsea whilst Sam hurriedly tried to remember all the things she might forget. Come 3:45am, the serenade of my phone alarm assaults us and throws us out of bed, diving into suitcases to triple check our tickets and passports. — before being whisked to Gatwick by Sam’s mum for our 7:00am flight to Mitilene, the Lesbos capital, via First Choice airlines. We booked the holiday and flights through First Choice two months in advance for £850, choosing to stay at the Sun Rise Hotel, next to Molyvos, in North Lesbos.

I shall not get into our laborious process of deciding which island/resort to visit in Greece, but we decided on Lesbos for its vegetation, size, relatively ow tourism, direct flights and culture. The Sun Rise Hotel was also highly rated on Trip Advisor (other candidates were the Olive Press Hotel (too noisy), The Sea Horse (no pool) and a couple of others (Petra, Anaxos, too far from the beautiful Molyvos).

On landing we discarded our jumpers, breathed in the hot air and set about across the mountainous terrain of Lesbos, via taxi, to the north of the island — about an hours drive, at a speedy pace with horn honking at junctions and overtaking of one handed motorcyclists that were texting on their phones. We checked in and proceeded up the 100-odd steps to our room, with a glorious North Lesvos sea view, and Turkey clear in our sights over the water. The room is nice, excellent for sleeping and looking after our clothes, which is all we need it for. The Sun Rise Hotel offers a full and half board food service, we got the breakfasts but opted out of the evening meals — we like our restaurants! A good choice considering their food is over priced and not very good (we sampled a chicken a la creme, a tuna salad and a burger on our first day — though not again since — Sam also made the Chicken Creme mistake in Sozopol).

I’m currently sitting by their pool, basking in the hot sun, as I write this — it looks so refreshing and the sound of the water fountain is soothing. Every now and then a House Martin swoops down to take a quick drink. Sam’s reading her book “The Lollipop Shoes” and her sun burn has mostly gone down, though I am sure it will quickly return. I am reading Mark Danielewski’s “House of Leaves”. We’ve played some table tennis but hand to eye co-ordination isn’t Sam’s strong point.

On our first day we ate our cheese, egg and tomato breakfast rolls, drunk the odd tasting tea and took the SRH courtesy bus down to Molyvos. It’s a small coastal town built against a towering rock with castle atop. The roads are thin, cobbled up’n’down affairs, navigated by the locals on their mopeds and bikes. The central streets are lined with small but cute touristy shops, restaurants with balconies and expensive clothes shops — each of which Sam has thoroughly explored. At the bottom lies the small port and all the highly rated places to eat, with their freshly caught wild fish. There are also cats — everywhere! We met two northern English couples here fishing with a small line they had bought, using bread to catch small fish and octopi.

Between 1pm and 5pm the heat is unbearable and most shops shut for their siesta. We headed back to the hotel on the 3pm courtesy bus (at 3:45, it doesn’t turn up unless you go into the BEST car rental/bar next to the stop and ask for the bus to come — the place is run by the same family). In waiting we met a lovely family that tipped us off about a nice little pizzeria round the corner from SRH, “Fantastico”. Escaping the confines of our hotel foods we enjoyed Pizza and intoxicating house wines down towards Eftalou Hotel at the aforementioned. A nice cherry brandy on the house tipped Sam over the tipsy boat before we staggered home.

Saturday tooks us on a 40 min walk towards Eftalou’s hot water springs via pebbly beaches, hot unshaded roads, poppies and lizards basking. Too sun burnt for the springs we dabbled our feet in the cold sea and made games with the rocks.

After cooling down in the pool, now a common practice, we walked into Molyvos (20-40mins) for a meal at The Captain’s Table, a place run by English speaking Melinda and family. We’d read that their Mezes and Fish were particularly tasty and everyone has spoken very highly of them. Here I sampled the cloudy white Ouzo, spicy aubergines, Tabouleh (a cracked wheat dish), salted Anchovies (perfect with Ouzo), salted uncooked swordfish, “Grandma’s Cheese Pie”, grilled octopus, home-made chips and lettuce salad ~€43. We plan to return for some fresh fish. We stopped for some cocktails at Molly’s bar (another recommended place), drawn in by the awful sounds of the Eurovision song contest. A black russian, pina colada, strawberry daquiris and weird green thing with ice cream later and the room was buzzing with international cheers and boos as songs played and the votes came in. Not the same without Wogan but the zealous laughter and insults more than made up.

Everyone here on Lesbos is very open, talkative and friendly. You can go and speak to anyone and they’ll be happy to engage with you. Everything is incredibly welcoming — there’s banter between tables at restaurants and friendly chatter everywhere between strangers. It’s very easy to make friends and feel like part of something bigger — whether its the Greek native or the holiday atmosphere, this place brings out the best.

Needless to say, we got home at 2am, thoroughly sloshed. Sunday became a tiring shopping trip with a quest for sun-block, hats and shoes. We ate at Betty’s for lunch, sharing a pork Kleftiko with some giant white beans. Sam also discovered a taste for iced tea, I drank one of only four beers available on the island — Amstel. A charming place on the hill with overlooking balcony.

After a nap under a tree near the Olive Press, and a dip in the pool, it was back to Fantastico for a shared Pizza and cheap night out.

Monday brought the start of the local bus service from Eftalou through to Anaxos for only €1.40. With this we headed to Petra, the beachy tourist trap — I haggled for a hat and Sam for some olive decorated pottery. In the heat we climbed the central rock and the church at the top. After coming back down, we walked through the back streets of the town, heading back to the centre via a beach-side walk, hilariously ending with Sam’s shoes falling unceremoniously into the Sea right as we decided to head back to the road. For lunch we had fresh bread, salami and cinammon doughnuts. There’s not a lot to do in Petra, other than sunbathe and shop for post cards, and maybe ride a pedalo. So we took the bus back to Molyvos for the evening — despite Sam’s desire to go to an obscure “Greek night” which offered a set meal, somewhere on the edge of Petra.

Sam’s printed restaurant review pack took us in search of The Galley which was famed for its Moussaka — inquiring at Molly’s it seems like it no longer exists — so they recommended “Le Grand Bleu”. Here we went for stuffed Zucchini flowers and two portions of Moussaka, with a litre of house wine as refreshment. We stumbled happily home. There’s a peculiar feeling to an out door restaurant with a small road running through it — with mopeds, cats and dogs alike.

Today is Tuesday, our day off by the pool, which started with a sweaty stroll around the hill we sit atop of, with more pebbly beaches, humming bird hawk moths, unfinished houses, the odd lush villa and the hot hot sun. With Sam’s kiss it’s time to wrap this up for now — not a cloud above us.

***

It is Sunday now and we are back by the pool in a much busier hotel. Tuesday’s plan was a romantic starlight cruise round the North West bay, on arrival we found that, much to our disappointment, although advertised, it did not run “this early in the season” — not enough people. At a loss we wandered the harbour watching schools of fish in the clear water beneath us. Into the harbour cmae a small boat advertising personal trips for a maximum of 4 persons — running to grap the captain, Stradis, Sam found that he offered a 1–2 hour trip at €60.

With a prospect of a night time boat ride the next night we happily settled for our second meal at The Captain’s Table, looking for some fresh fish! On showing our interest, Melinda invited us into the kitchen to peruse the fresh fish they had — taking them out of the ice box one by one explaining taste, type, bones and price. The Hate and Sea Bream took our fancy, and after Sam’s anxiety over bones, her’s came pre-filleted, both with head and tail still attached. Delicious! Next to us were a couple from our hotel, with a lovely looking Captains Platter. We chatted over complimentary Ouzo before having a lift home from our new friends.

Wednesday brought an early start, at breakfast for 7:30, in taxi at 8:10, we headed to Petra to begin the first of three walks as outlined in “Walks in North Lesvos” by Lance Chilton. For something easy to begin with, we took the 30 — 45 min walk to Anaxos around the coast, along Petra’s main road, round the waterline past seaweed mounds, a mooring place and rocks to scramble over, we reached Anaxos with relative ease. On discovery that Anaxos is nothing more than a taverna/hotel filled tourist trap for sun worshipers, we opted for the second walk, round a dirt track in the hills to the secluded beach of Ambelia, about an hours walk. The temperature was rising, but the route offered some shade and it was just bearable for Sam. After some trouble finding the start of the trail, our walk took us to a wonderful view of the beach and the high up village of Skoutaros, then winding down across a small river and finally to the south end of the sandy beach. A single Taverna, “George’s” gave us our much needed refreshment and toilet stop. Here we found a riverbed filled with Terrapin’s which fought over chunks of our crusty bread.

We ate our salami and bread lunch in a shaded alcove at the end of the bay, throwing remains to the ever grateful fish. Our return route, the third walk, took us up and over the cliffs, the coastal path. Glorious views of cliffs covered in “Yellow everlasting”, Poppies and clear blue sea’s below came at the cost of no shade and the odd thorny encounter plus some beastly hornets, as well as passing one man and his reluctant horse in tow. Taking this route in the height of the day did not prove to be the best idea, we missed our bus and were left utterly parched and sun-roasted in the terrible Anaxos. We were saved by a lady named Alison, pointing us towards a pool and some refreshments where we cooled off for an hour or two, with countless applications of moisturizer and sun lotion.

After the bus home, tired and headached, we opted to postpone the boat trip and headed for the recommended Eftalou Restaurant. From our hotel to the restaurant at the pebbly beach we were accompanied by a charming little dog. Amongst numerous cats and denied food requests (“we don’t have that — try this…”) we ate the fish of the day and a fresh tuna steak, with complimentary Watermelon for dessert. Whilst its hard to pinpoint anything bad, we left very disappointed with the place. Perhaps it was the selection of food on offer (Zucchini pie advertised but not available) or the misunderstanding over fish of the day not gilt headed bream as it appeared, but the unexciting Cod, who knows. Despite the mediocrity we left with high spirits.

Thursday was another day spent by the pool, saying goodbye to friends we made in the week, preparing for the inevitable Thursday changeover that takes back the Brits and brings in the fresh ones. Our hotel was getting ready for full capacity, from 80 to 190 guests. It was sad to see everyone go, the couples and the families, and we chatted in the sun by the pool until 4pm when their coach departed, with pork Souvlakis from Fantastico in between.

With all the old English gone and the new not yet acquainted, Molyvos was very quiet on Thursday night — as we headed to the harbour for our boat trip. Unfortunately, today the wind had picked up to coincide with hotter temperatures (33C), making the sea too choppy for a romantic night on a small boat for 2. With banana and watermelon ice creams we pondered the cost, when a slightly larger 10 person glass bottomed boat docked. Through Sam’s sprint for the captain and inquisitive nature we bagged a discounted €15 each trip around Petra and Rabbit island with dinner including, ditching Stradis and his smaller boat — which we felt bad about but concluded tha he would not have taken us out in the wind. The larger boat cut through the waves much easier and the greek music played as our captain Alex took us to a mooring place on Rabbit island, via some underwater reefs viewed through the bottom. The thousands of nesting gulls on the island were not best pleased to see us as we headed to the top they squawked and began to dive at us, “WHOOSH” over my head, needless to say we were out of there quickly, back on the boat for the prepared barbecue. Our return took us via Petra, watching the red sunset quickly descent into the haze of the horizon.

Back in Molyvos, not quite sated, we hunted down Tropicana and “The Square”, higher up in the town, towards the harbour, an area not yet explored. Despite its generic name, Tropicana gave us a delightful greek salad with well priced Mythos and ‘concocted from two drinks’ Orangeade.

Friday became Car Rental Day, we looked at BEST, Avis and Hertz. Avis gave us the best deal, a yellow Hyundai Alto for €32 a day, with full insurance covered by First Choice, compared to €47 from BEST. I nail-bitingly aided Sam in her wrong-side of the road endeavour, reminding that we are now driving on the right and that the steering wheel should be in the middle of the road.

After trying out the roads we knew, we bravely headed through the winding, perilous mountain roads for Kalloni and Sakala Kalloni. Taking it slow and letting others overtake where we could, we made it to the bustling town, second largest in Lesbos, Kalloni. A lot of the Greek cheeriness appeared to have escaped this busy, functioning locale. With a stroll, a stop at a fine hidden bakery, supermarket stop for some feta cheese and salami and getting lost in the sun and streets, we escaped southwards for Skala Kallonis, missing the turn and carrying along to a very quiet, sandy beach just before Parakila. The only others there were locals, the parasols were free and the taverna cheap. The Kalloni gulf is ridiculously salty, giving us an enjoyable extra buoyancy in our sea side swimming. The sand fell away to a decent depth quickly, with the bonus of clear water for watching the large fish, crabs and hermits that nestled and nibbled at our toes unafraid.

After 4 hours the school kids were out, splashing loudly they engulfed the beach so we returned back to the car and onwards to Skala Kallonis correctly this time. Upon parking, a very British club-going sort of fella that now lived on the island explained and divulged the secret wonders of the moths and caterpillars, as long swirling, squiggly things rained on us from the trees above. The famed migratory birds had long gone, to my disappointment. Rather than eating at Medusa which we finally found, amongst a fisherman clubbing an octopus, we drove home before nightfall, with a small detour to Agia Paraskevi in search of Apollo’s temple.

Sam’s fear of heights really kicked in on the return leg, we made safe but slow progress. Congratulating Sam on a job well done, something she was clearly very nervous about doing, we returned the car (I had a small scooter trip), and had a full meal of Beef Goulash and Stifado at Tropicana, with their speciality salad and feta stuffed peppers. Stuffed, happy and relieved, we slept soundly.

***

Saturday brought another early morning to this holiday, the Wild West coach excusrion around North West Lesvos, pickup at 8:15am. For €33 each we were to explore the area of Limonos, the village Vatoussa, the Petrified Forest and Skala Eressos. Another young couple from our hotel were on the tour with us, they flew in on Thursday and we shared with them our tips. The large air conditioned coach and charismatic guide Ismini greeted us and we were off, through Petra and Anaxos for more pickups, speedily along the tight mountain roads, winding around, horns blown at corners, rip-roaring around the hair pins with the spoken histories of Petra and Anaxos being explained to us, down towards Skala Kallonis where we were yesterday, for the last pickup. Then back up to Limonos Monastery, largest of the island, with a father superior and two monks.

The area is surrounded with small church like monuments, paid for by families as dedications to lost loved ones. The monastery is in a yard with with walled protection in the form of Monk’s cells and a small family of Peacocks. We opted out of the little Byzantine museum, instead wandering the court-yards. An old ruling prevents women from entering the monastery itself (“to stop temptation”). so I went in alone — the walls, ceilings and coves were all elaborately decorated, one depiction of a shark teethed individual being jested by an angel sticks in my mind. No pictures allowed.

Leaving here, sticking to our rigid time constraints, we travelled to Vatoussa which exists within the crater of a dormant volcano, via Filia and Anemotia, stopping for some local Baclava then whisked away again, before we could catch our breath, to the petrified forest. This lies past the high up, mountain perched Ipsilou monastery, overlooking the island — you can see Molyvos in the distance from here. The roads became more perilous, steep, unprotected drops as the coach roars onwards as fast as possible. The petrified forest, a collection of fossilized trees, is amongst the most barren of landscapes, almost moon like — the hottest part of the tour at the hottest time of the day. The largest trees have been uncovered, sparsely populating the park, protected with frail wooden fences, tourists are urged not to touch, but do so anyway. Smaller “tree-rocks” remain unearthed, fragments scattered about the place, some even jutting out of dirt paths. Some shade, a coke and it’s back on the bus and down to Skala Eressos, birthplace of Sappho. On our travels here we were lucky enough to see a Black Stork.

A 2 hour stop brought us some Mezes at the Aegean in the square; fried zucchini, aubergine dip, fries and some feta — just right. By the time we were done, 4:30 had come and the coach was leaving once more, giving us no time to explore the church or the beach. Although a tourist resort it has more character and flavour than Petra offers. Time to head home on a 2 hour round trip, expertly through Messotopos, Agra, passed the entrance to the bay and Parakila, then up through the hills and Kalloni once more. Although interesting, the weariness, driving, constant turning, up and down and heat were incredibly nauseating. Whilst we did a lot, saw a lot and learned a lot, it was not the most enjoyable of days given the sickness and time constraints. If you are a confident drives its probably better to buy a guide and drive yourself.

Home by 6:30pm and despite exhaustion, we went for the evening to a small taverna, triangular shaped at the cross roads between Molyvos and Eftalou, for their “Greek Night” with live music accompaniment. The loud music played and the menu appeared promising — we made our choices; stuffed peppers and lamb kleftiko. They had neither, five iterations later (no potato salad, meatballs or stews) it appeared they had none of the food on their menu. In the meantime the music became piercingly loud, headache inducing with constant feedback from the singer, and those next to us lit up their cigs, smoke blowing in our faces. We should have left, but they had my last choice, a burger, and we decided to judge them on their food — a mistake. After taking what felt like an eternity our food was cold, partly cooked and disgusting; a congealed lamb sauce with no flavour, hard rice, soggy chips and all at an expensive price. Going against my principles we fed the waiting cats, they didn’t like it much either. As we were served our complimentary desserts/drink we paid and left. DO NOT GO HERE. To recover our evening we had ice creams in the harbour (mocha/chocolate! mmm), meeting an equally unhappy couple in the process, with whom we proceeded to bitch. On the bus home we overheard others praising the place; I cannot think how or why.

***

It is now Thursday afternoon and I have been torn from the luscious pool to return home to England, with a one hour coach trip across Lesbos to Mitilene then a flight to Gatwick, London. The flight crew are handing out headphones for the in flight movie, “National Treasure: Book of Secrets” whilst the islands pass away beneath us on the Aegean sea.

Sunday was a designated pool day — time to read our books, practice our various swimming techniques and generally chillax. Tanned, but mostly red, after a late Hawaiian pizza from Fantastico, we wandered down into Molyvos for the evening. Still rather saited, we aimlessly shopped, pondered and considered a meal — even sitting down at the harbour’s “Octopus” restaurant, before leaving because we weren’t hungry. Our evening was saved by the couple from the tour, Mia and James.

Flagged down as we passed them at “Cafe Pirate”, we ate with them at the corner of Market Street, next to the butchers — ordering a selection of Mezes (stuffed vine leaves, tuna crepe) and a large carafe of wine. After talk of jobs in Jamaica and Iraq, Baklava in Montreal and perfectly made coffee, flash floods in Montpelier and some talk about ourselves, we devoured our complimentary walnut baklava and stumbled down to Molly’s for cocktails above the harbour. Tequila sunrises, Black Russians, Alfas, etc. and so on — we left drunk enough to almost forget bags, staggering along cobbled streets down to the taxi rank. “Your donkey doesn’t have enough shade”, we read aloud to the taxi driver; a note left pegged to his fence. Back at the hotel, tomorrow was here, our heads were spinning and our beds enveloped us for what remained of the night.

Stirring at 9:30am, just making Monday’s breakfast (cheese, scrambled egg, tomato, bacon roll, grapefruit juice and now black tea because the milk tastes funny), we postponed the planned coastal walk — instead we chose a hangover recovery procedure, consisting of painkillers and sleep. Avoiding another day by the pool, it was time for Sam’s holiday shopping spree in Lolyvos. But not before a couple of lunch time Gyros from the little “Friends” takeaway and a swim in the noisy Olive Press hotel pool. Sipping mango juice on the promenade wall, house martins on power lines above me, I left Samantha to gather olive oil and ornaments; I instead attempted to catch fish using bread, salami and a small line I purchased — unsuccessfully I might add.

Not wanting to be disappointed by unavailable menu items, dinner at “The Octopus” came early — it’s the distinctive building on the corner in the harbour with the red shutters on its windows; sitting down to a pretty table for two beneath the parasols. AT LAST we found a place that offered AND had Zucchini pie, a delicious one to boot, with it we ate Taramasalata and crinkle cut chips. For mains we shared fresh red mullet, chosen from inside at €50 per kg, consuming five between us. Although Sam’s ongoing gut troubles / illness meant she couldn’t enjoy these to the fullest. So much so we paid a visit to the pharmacist on the way home, for advice and medicines.

* Looks like in-flight lunch is coming *

Properly prepped with an early night, Tuesday brought us into the day fresh and alive enough to attempt the coastal walk to Skala Sikiminea, home of the Mermaid Madonna, via Eftalou. We set out early to avoid the afternoon heats, confronting the blustery coastal winds at 9:00am. At the hot springs a kind dutch lady pointed us towards a dirt track, pointing out that the beach path would be impassable because the tide was in.

As expected, the road is long and winding, dipping in land for swooping corners, sliding up and down as the coastal terrain changes — the walk is about 3 hours from Molyvos, affording the occasional chance to get a closer look at the flora and fauna, birds and the bees. Halfway along there is a small taverna for drinks — at which Sam unwisely decided was the time to satisfy her English-Black tea fix; instead she received an obscure Cinnamon/lemon and very weak concoction — “eugh”, I did warn her. We ended up sharing a bottle of coke.

Shortly thereafter, with some further up and downs, we reached the very small coastal village of Skala Sikiminea. Three tavernas (with parrot, lobster tanks and kittens in trees), two tourist shops selling jewelry, a small harbour and a church sitting on a small rocky outcrop. This church is meant to contain a depiction of the Virgin Mary as a mermaid — either it was hidden away or not there, but we couldn’t find it. For lunch we had the mixed warm mezes from “The Cuckoo Nest” which included bourekakia and tzatziki.

By the afternoon it was too hot to walk back, and expensive for a taxi — our aim was to hitch a boat ride back to Molyvos. Luckily for us, the charismatic and welcoming Captain Alex came to the rescue. By chance he was there to pick up a large group of Dutch tourists that had just happened to follow us on our walk; with space for two more on the boxes at the back of his glass bottomed boat, we hitched a ride for €10 each. Excellent. With Greek music playing we basked in the sun as we passed the sights again, sharing almond biscuits courtesy of Alex. In Molyvos we ate ice cream and walked back to our pool.

The evening brought us back to The Captain’s table, for house wine, spicy fried aubergine, olives and a Captain’s platter for two. Although Sam ended up with white wine spilt down her dress (which led to a courtesy glass and free Cinnamon dessert, on top of Ouzo and small jelly cubes). This was a beautiful evening with a fabulous meal — the calamari was divine, which we ate with Mackerel, Bream, Saddled Bream and a fish that sounded like “melina”, as part of the platter. Our unexpected dessert was the best we had eaten all holiday. Despite having one day left, this became our unofficial last romantic night in lesbos — we decided we couldn’t top it. We caught the bus back to the Sun Rise Hotel after a short chat with “Gomez”, the waiter neat the bus stop; we said our goodbyes and rode home to our room.

Wednesday seemed like a spare day, we’d achieved most of what we wanted to do, time to mop up the loose ends as it were. Sam paid a trip to the hot hot Eftalou springs with dips interspersed with a cooling sea swim — I plowed through 100 pages of my book. A word of warning — avoid the eateries here, we were subject to high prices and arrogant waiters, the food was equally horrid. To reset my pallet I swiftly purchased some delightful home made Baclava from the Women’s agricultural co-operative of Mithymna, and Fantastico provided another tasty tasty pork souvlaki — we just couldn’t get enough of them, they made a perfect lunch time snack.

Without wishing to taint our last evening, we chose a safe option on our last night — Lamb kleftiko and beef stifado from Tropicana, this time with a rose wine at Sam’s request. The friendly neighbourhood diners shared with us their stories of walks, snakes and visits to Petri. As our chairs wobbled on the cobbled floor, the debonair head waiter shared stories and engaged with everyone and the cute black and white dog made its hunger rounds amidst all the cats, we prepared to say goodbye to Lesbos. Waving goodbye with some night time photography and squinting to see the flashing light emitted from Ipsilou, miles away to the West.

We’re just crossing the English Channel now, and our ears are popping with the descent, and it seems a just place to wrap this up. I haven’t spoken much of today, a bus ride, a meal at a Taverna in Mitiline, nothing special.

That’s it then. Goodbye Lesbos and all the wonderful people there. Gomez, the Fantastico men, Stradis, Alex, the breakfast waiters, friendly English tourists, Molly’s bar, the helpful Avis man, Melinda and Co., the jester like waiter at Tropicana, the cats, the dogs, the house martins and bugs. The end.

Language barriers are high over here, I speak a little French and Sam speaks some German. The local tongue seems to be an odd amalgamation of German, French and Russian — most signs occur both in English and Cyrillic alphabets. This meant that showing our driver where the hotel ( Hotel Diamanti, ***) was — sans address, with a poor map in low light and he, without his glasses, proved difficult. The labyrinthine cobbled streets seemed alien and the destination far away and hidden. When hope was running thin, out of the dark and from nowhere the large Russian “Diamanti” sign affronted us. And so we are here successfully. The amenities are as standard — beds, shower, satellite TV, air conditioning and a balcony with slight sea view.

After a good nights sleep came the crashing sounds of Saturday morning and the dust bin men rattling over the cobbles with their wheelie bins. The weather was still overcast. We set out on our tour of the town; leading north then west (along the top of Sozopol) past the harbour and naval base. Old boats rusted and ye-olde Russian cars rolled by. Many of the buildings here were half built and the area seemed unsightly in the murky weather — suffice to say this wasn’t the greatest of places to start. We turned left into the centre of town and proceeded past the market stalls selling jewellery, art work and fake Armani for 5 lv.

There’s a slight wind at the moment, a boat is chugging past and the Cicadas are singing. The odd glitch sound of a passing bat is common and the light-house on St. Ivan’s is booming. The stars are bright and Sam is attempting a fiendish sudoku with a deterministic fervour on her brow whilst chomping on her pen

But back to Saturday — our day saw the exploration of central old Sozopol before lunch. Old hanging buildings of wood and panelling aside newer stone houses, similarly overhanging with orange ceramic roof tiles. All the streets are cobbled with a semi circular pattern and they intertwine seemingly at random. The shops give a limited selection of products — there are the cloths and tourist shops alike with bargainous deals, numerous cafes and food outlets — each selling potato crisps, biscuits and alcohol — lots and lots of alcohol. We have in fact not yet located a good source for fresh bread — it seems to be a rarity and we can only find a peculiar rubbery brand.

For lunch we stopped at a horrid food place that can be likened to a British greasy spoons caf’. We had our pizza and chicken for 6.60lv and swiftly returned home. After a nap and a little sort out we headed south and then west towards the first of Sozopol’s two beaches. We passed the elderly ladies selling lace and home made Jam (as mentioned in the Lonely Planet guide) and we came to a rocky outcrop where we could get some good panoramic shots of the new-town and bay. In moving south we came across the finer parts of Sozopol  and a little alleyway that took us to a cliff side walk which ran via the city wall. Overlooking the bay the views are gorgeous and the aroma of fresh and trodden fruit from overhanging trees paved the way. This took us right along to the beach side and past many tine restaurants that offered a view and the sounds of a crashing sea.

The remainder of the day and for a lot of Sunday we explored “Harmanite”, or New Sozopol; its cemented hotels, abandoned building works and tiny summer-only shops (gone since September) gave a quaint but characteristic feel to the town. On the surface it is just an attempt as a tourist sprawl but the obvious distinction between western and east European modern cultures is of some interest where the prosperous and new dwarf the basic and poor. Here we learnt of day trips via a Bulgarian/Russian man too busy running his business to talk to his customers. Sam also met a charming Russian fellow who was happy to have it pointed out that his bag had been left open.

Sunday was overcast again but today the clouds cleared and we awoke to clear skies and a warm sun. Heading into town to catch a minibus day trip to Ropotamo nature reserve and river was our best option. Out friendly driver — a fan of 90s trance music — carried us to the reserve and organized our boat trip with a newly arrived coach party from “Sunny Beach”. From here we chugged away at the front of an open-slow moving tourist barge. The guide boasted wolves and wild boars but we saw only wild and rare birds. Herons, Jays and Woodpeckers speckled the riverbanks and many other unnameable ducks and wild fliers graced the route — such as an all blue king fisher variety and large billed brown species. The hill views were astonishing and we were all happy to see the odd random fish fly out of the water. The scenery also reminded me of that seen in Jurassic Park.

We came home past a marshland and withdrawn 5 star hotel that looked overly posh and introverted. Lunchtime saw us eat at the “El Grecco” cafe above the bay — a selection of freshly made dips and tuna canapes. The sun was now hot hot hot and the only thing left to do was spend the day at the beach. To the sea we went with towels and beach mat. The bay here is such that you can walk half way out and still have your head above water (which is of course lovely and warm at this time of year). And so the hours were spent finding shells, chasing crabs, scaring fish and watching stray dogs play with the tide and each other.

The GBP-BLG exchange rate is favourable to the strong pound. At the time of writing £1 is the equivalent of 2.7–2.9 levs, depending where you get them from. Herein Bulgaria the face value of money is the same as in England, that is for 1 unit you could expect to purchase a coke or for 5 units a single course. Thus for a “budget” holiday this is great — we can have 3 meals out a day and buy plenty in between. Our trip to Ropotamo cost us 40lv, only £7.50 each.

And here is a good place to talk about the food! Saturday night we ate at “Panorama St. Ivan” that offered an outside sea view of the island opposite our hotel. We opened our banqueting with a shared dish of shrimp, we snapped back their heads and sucked out their innards whilst rolling them in a hoi-sin like sauce or butter. This was accompanied by a sweet house white wine. For the main course Sam ate a shark fillet steak with salad garnish and I had a Wiener Schnitzel — an odd looking but tasty pork dish with potatoes. All this cost us only £7.50 each.

For the same price on Sunday at the famous “Viatarna Melnitsa” (windmill) restaurant we enjoyed a selection of salty fish h’orde oeuvres including Anchovies. For mains we had a swordfish kebap — onion, mushroom, tomato and olive flavoured fry/stew whilst Sam ate a Veal cutlet. For desert we had a shared ice cream with freshly cooked raspberries — delicious!! For wine we chose the Pomorie chardonnay.

Tonight we ventured to Ksantana — a three tiered custom built house overlooking/hanging the sea. For the staple price of 40lv or £7.50 each we once again ate like kings. Straying away from wine we had a taste of other alcoholic offerings, a Bulgarian beer — Zargorka and a fine chocolate liqueur and whisky cocktail with creme. For starter we had chicken wings and frogs legs before moving onto a Pork fillet and beautifully stewed vegetable mix and a Bulgarian Rabbit casserole. Now it is late and I must sleep so I can carry on with this fine holiday tomorrow

Part two and it is now Thursday — the day of Sam’s atrocious bad luck. From the sun that came out as we went in, the rain that fell during beach time, the cakes that looked delicious and tasted terrible and the 18:00 boat tour that left without us. At about 14:00 we realized everything we would attempt to do would somehow go wrong (even the game of Pool did!), furthermore we narrowed it down to choices Sam had made. She is now lying next to me recovering from a bad dose of Shellfish. So here is my chance to fill you in.

On Tuesday things were once again blistering hot and beautiful; so as all good British folk would do, we went to the beach again — for the day. Walking in the sea here you are incredibly close to the wildlife (unlike in Britain). Around us we saw jumping fish and sea creatures alike. To round off our sun tanning beach trip we took a ride on a Pedalo for the lowly price of 6lv (£2) per hour. Cycling out of the bay gave us some great views of the coast, including the old Sozopol town-wall and overhanging restaurantation.It also convinced us that taking the slide on the back of the pedalo and swimming in the sea was not the best idea as we encountered a number of jellyfish — both large creamy white and small and clear species. The suns warmth did not hasten and suffice to say we are both now a golden brown — even Sam who has never tanned before in her life. For an early dinner we chose to eat at the ‘breme’ pectopaht at the tip of the town looking out over the bay — the views were great however the food not so. Our seafood salad, bacon and cheese skewers, grilled veg’, button mushrooms, “chicken delight” and chocolate pancake tasted prepared and manufactured — entirely horrid and the only saving point was the below average 27lv price.

Wednesday saw the weather turn for the worse, so the beach was out. This was the day of little shopping trips — liqueurs, wines, chocolate, wooden sculptures, postcards and the GREAT WOODEN SNAKE! For lunch we stopped at a tavern looking place with the word “Mexhana” over the door, there we ate a selection of cold and seasoned salami meats with chips whilst accompanied by two charming cats — two of the many that inhabit Sozopol.

For dinner we chose our restaurant well — we did not want to waste another evening eating terrible food. This time we ate at ” Neptun”, another old establishment along the Morski-Skali road overlooking the black sea. For starters I had a vegetable risotto and Sam had mussels in garlic, for mains Sam ate the pork kebapches (like sausages) whilst I opted for the recommended “grilled belted bonito” fish. And thus the fish came, it was whole — complete, head tail and all, but most of all it was absolutely delicious. My meal was larger than Sam’s so she ordered an extra shrimp shish kebap. For dessert we had fig pancake (freshly made this time) and a nougat ice cream — I ended up eating both. All of this and a bottle of domaine boyar wine cost us 42lv (not 72lv as we misread). For me personally it was the best of the meals so far — it was a gamble that had finally paid off, considering I was particularly wary of the concept of giving someone a whole fish to work through.

Part 3 now and here I am on the plane home — writing the final chapter in the Sozopol entry for my blog, on pen and paper that is. I am now amongst the fat and yobbish Brits that come for the sun and cheap booze at Sunny Beach & Golden Sands — they are a delightful bunch, sporting white jogging bottoms, gold jewellery and the latest football strips.

To carry on from where I left off, Thursday evening saw us eat at the recommended fish bar,“Kirik”. For starters we opted for the Bulgarian mussel and mustard specialty (after they told us they had no black sea crab) and chicken wings. As Sam was ill and I felt a little under the weather we opted for two non-fish dishes; the mixed grill and meatballs and cheese with sauteed potatoes as mains. Our palettes were moistened by a Traminer white from the Tragovishte province. All this set us back 37lv.

And onto our final day in Bulgaria — it ended as it had began — with rain and lots of it. We stayed in and packed for the morning whilst watching CNN’s terrible news coverage and wishing for the BBC. By lunch time we were bored so headed back to “Kirk” to try their infamous fish dishes now that we were feeling better. This time Sam ate the red mullet whilst I opted for the Zargan — a long thin fish with a blue spine. Sam also tried the “buttermilk” drink which she had seen others have, it tasted like some obscure liquid cheese/bitter yogurt and was promptly pushed away. 21.50lv this all costs us and the fish was fantastic.

The rain didn’t let up but this didn’t deter us from one final shopping tour and photo spree. I have officially been dragged through and around every shop in the old town. When finally my legs gave way we returned to the hotel to finish packing before having a card game of head-to-head Texas hold ‘em and a variety of “strip jack naked” incorporating snap and other rules — we dubbed it “Paul wins” three years ago. The kind hotel management let us stay in our room until we need to leave — which is great considering our flight was at 23:45. We paid our dues and booked our taxi before heading out to the “windmill restaurant” for our final Sozopol outing.

Yes, here is ANOTHER paragraph about food — in fact this holiday has been all about REALLY good food, cheap. We ordered some more specialty starters — a serving of caviar and sarmi — vine leaves stuffed with mince meat with a side order of garlic bread. The fun didn’t stop there, for our main course we had the fabulous Pork Kawarma that came in a hot pot on a plate of oil which once ignited cooked the food on our table for us and a scrumptious succulent Salmon in honey dish. This came as we overlooked St Ivan’s and the distant hills lit up a brilliant burning red as the sun set behind them. For dessert we had the ice cream again. This was one of the greatest meals I have ever eaten and it was the perfect end to our eatery-summer Bulgarian adventure.

I guess I will now sit back and watch the rest of King Kong or do a Sudoku! Oh and here is a girl in a bag on the side of a van:

On Thursday, the last day of March, I packed together my things:

We were greeted by a taxi driver bearing my name, we were driven 40km or so to our resort where we were met by a lovely French receptionist, he proceeded to check us in, give us all the details and told us our room would be ready at 4pm. (The time zone issues were slightly confusing, normally France is one hour ahead of England, but this particular week England had changed their clocks to BST whilst France had yet to do so, putting us on the same time, we didn’t realize this for a while, then after correcting ourselves and becoming confident of the actual time, the clocks changed in the night. Yay for confusion!). Anyway, to make up the time until 4pm, we decided to look around the little village, the medieval village atop the hill and purchase some food for our starving bellies. This was the view from reception:

Our first full day in the resort was a Sunday, so rather than trying to travel to any of the local cities we decided to trek around the local region and head up the hill across the way from us which looked to have a castle at its mount. It turns out the region was a splatter with rich peoples expensive villas, lavender farms, stunning view points and a strong wind. We found an extremely remote little area to enjoy our French dinner, sitting on a crumbling old wall amongst wild flowers we watched over a view of local town Grasse, it looked a little like this:

On Monday (lundi) we navigated via the bus routes to Cannes, the city famous for its film festival. We sifted through the streets, passing the Ferrari shop and the Chanel shop, we were shuffled away from the Palais du Festival because they were setting up something big. We did get a chance to see all the famous film stars hand prints surrounding the complex, my favourite being Akira Kurosawa’s:

Tuesday was our day of quiet rest, we lounged in our room and enjoyed the facilities of the resort, in particular the crazy golf course which had some impossibly difficult holes, loop the loops and tunnels. In the evening we went for a special night out, dressing up we visited the supremely posh restaurants that could be found in the medieval town of Mougins. We tried translating the menus but soon just opted for the nicest looking, least crowded eatery with trees growing through the roof, much like the image shown above. The meal was absolutely delicious and perfectly cooked and prepared. Sam ate escargots (snails) in a garlic & tomato sauce with a lemon garnished salad for starter whilst I ate a crab and lobster dish. We ordered the dry white house wine and for the main course I had a knife-slices-so-easily-through duck that you wouldn’t believe was poultry with a fine sauce, courgettes, cauliflower, strange potato cakes, celeriac and more tasty supplements. Sam enjoyed the best-cooked lamb she had ever tasted and was positively enthralled by it, indeed saying so to the waiters. For dessert she enjoyed a chocolate sponge thing with vanilla ice cream and real vanilla pods. I had the pear soaked in a red wine with added cinnamon crumble. Our very expensive meal was extremely delicious and well worth the money.

Come Wednesday and with it our first big trip, we travelled to Nice by train from Cannes. French desk clerks and store peoples always seem so much more helpful than their English counterparts. Our problems and worries at the station were all kindly sorted by the French desk lady. We made it to Nice in good time and spent the day wandering their streets, looking through the flower market, passing by the open air theatre and sea front casinos, throwing pebbles in the sea and spending money to use public toilets. At the far end of the beach we travelled up to the top of a cliff where an old castle used to stand. There were public gardens, waterfalls, panoramas and a fantastic viewpoint for watching the planes fly in over Nice and land in the airport.

On Thursday we had a lie in and in the afternoon travelled back to Cannes for a boat trip to the offshore island St. Marguerite.

It just so happened, that in the week I was in France both the Pope and Prince Rainier of Monaco died. This put a slight damper on our trip to the impressive city built into a rock face, as did the overcast weather. Half mast Monaco flags covered the city which we reached by train. The weather put us off visiting the exotic gardens and caves of the region, yet despite circumstances we still decided to visit the principality. Firstly we had to find a public lift down to the bottom, this was no easy task; finally we found a lift and it brought us to the entrance of the hospital. From there we were greeted by whordes (sic) of press, camera crews and photographers waiting for the prince to leave the hospital, here’s my not so good sneaky picture of a few of them:

On Saturday we returned home via train to Nice. We enjoyed the medieval city of Mougins one last time, took some more photos and bought some more souvenirs. At the airport we waited 4 hours for our flight and were exhausted after carrying baggage everywhere in the hot hot sun. But we were treated with mind blowingly beautiful views as we left Nice in our 767 plane:

I’m not particularly in the mood for providing a full diary like entry for every single event that happened over the course of the seven days. It would exhaust me and undoubtedly be boring for all involved. No one wants to look at anyone’s holiday pictures do they? Thus I shall summarize into a few sentences.

I relaxed by the pool, I relaxed on the beach and I slept with my temperature controlled air conditioning on. I successfully mastered table tennis and pool, polished up by front crawl and breast stroke techniques and became a luscious golden brown in the process. I saw woodpeckers, sparrows, lizards and toads, fishes and crabs and mosquitoes too. I dined at Bobby’s and ate fried egg on bacon and on steak, listened to chilled music and applied copious after sun as the sky turned red. I traveled to and fro and now it is time to prepare another five star outing, come spring.

“Whenever top chick is around, she brightens up the place, with her cheery, sunny, happy, funny, big old smiley face.” – The Dementor