Travel recommendations, ideas and observations from two simple travellers

Author: Smita (Page 14 of 16)

Santiago de Compostela, northwestern Spain

Santiago de Compostela in the northwestern corner of Spain is often overlooked by tourists who prefer to flock to the more popular cities of Barcelona and Madrid or the southern beachside resort towns in the Malaga province.

This UNESCO World Heritage city offers a gateway to the Galacia region which has its own rich and unique history, language and culture.

The city is, however, most known as the end point for pilgrims completing “the Camino”. Pilgrims finish the Camino by seeking blessings at the Cathedral of St James. More than 200,000 pilgrims now complete the Camino each year with numbers growing as the walk regains popularity.

With the city’s popularity, a wide variety of accommodation is now offered, including the major hotel chains.

With only an overnight stay planned we chose to stay in the historical Old Town area to give us an opportunity to explore the area on foot and watch pilgrims entering the city on the final leg of their Camino journey to receive blessings at the Cathedral of St James.

We were lucky to find a reasonably priced hotel very close to the Cathedral and right on the Camino trail leading into the Old Town. Casas Reais is a lovely boutique hotel with only 9 rooms. The rooms are spacious, simple but modern, comfortable and tastefully decorated. Each has its own bathroom facilities. The hotel offers breakfast in a small café on site and it is the perfect spot to sit with a drink to people watch at the end of a day out exploring the city.

Our host, Montse was very accommodating, courteous and helpful, advising us of sights worth visiting and pointing us in the right direction for our morning walk.

We will be returning for a longer stay. Plans are in place to complete the full Camino and a longer stay in Santiago de Compostela to see all that we missed on our first visit.

The long road to Oia

“You’ll have to get off and maybe even help push this thing up the hill”, he said. Had I put on that much weight?

We had decided to end our driving holiday around Portugal and the Spanish, French and Italian Riviera’s in Greece with a bit of time out on the islands of Santorini and Mykonos. The kind lady at the travel agent in Athens where we booked our ferry tickets recommended that we go to Paros or Naxos next time. “They are so much better”, she advised. It was too late to change our minds, our accommodation was already booked and we were keen to see why everyone raved about these two islands.

While I unpacked and settled into our unit He headed off the pick up the free scooter which came with our stay. It was the peak of summer, the island was busy with holidaymakers and day visitors from the cruise ships anchored off the coastline. We had decided to stay a little outside the town of Fira which was the reason the resort offered free scooters with their accommodation.

Have gotten ourselves and the scooter up the slight rise and puttered the short distance into town, we decided that we were going to need something with more power than this if we were going to venture further than Fira town to explore the island. We upgrade the scooter for one of those quad bikes we’d seen the youngsters whizzing around in.

Nothing will stop us now. Our quad bike takes us comfortably up the hill to the Pyrgos to admire sweeping views across to the side of the island. It’s windy up on the hill but calm and idyllic when we reach Kamari, renowned for its black sand beach. A lovely resort town, we stroll along the promenade next to the beach, lined with small resorts and restaurants – cosy in comparison to Fira.

We have been told that the town of Oia at the northern tip of the island is the place to go to see the “perfect” sunset. We’d like to see it during the day too, so we follow the road. The road to Oia is bumpy although quiet and we don’t see much traffic or people for that matter all the way. Stunning scenery accompanies us, small fields of crops lumped in between small villages and vineyards with their vines growing on the ground in baskets rather than up trellises. We have all day, so we are not bothered by the long ride. Still, it is a long ride and Oia better live up to expectations!

We arrive at Oia tired from the long ride to find the place inundated with tourists. We look at each other and grimace. However, it is later in the afternoon and pretty soon the tour buses depart taking their passengers back to the cruise ship leaving us to ramble through the pretty laneways and craft shops. The scenery is magnificent. We had thought Fira was amazing, Oia is truly stunning, and not just at sunset. Make sure you plan your day to visit later in the afternoon once the crowds have disappeared when the town is left to the locals and the few remaining tourists who dare to wander about in the heat of the day.

We follow the more direct and shorter route back to our hotel arriving with sore bottoms from the bumpy ride but so happy that we dared to take the long road to Oia.

We do cram into a bus with other holidaymakers the next evening to make sure we see the famous sunset at Oia. The best locations are jam-packed with people poised with their cameras. We decide to watch the sunset from a rooftop restaurant sipping a glass of Santorini wine. Perfect!

A surprise in a keyhole

We are surprised, there is a queue!

As with all secrets, eventually, everyone finds out. So, we join the tail just as half a dozen tourists tumble out of a private tourist van.

“Hurry up, take a peep and move on”, He muttered. The comment was aimed at the lady in front who was taking several looks to confirm what she was seeing and then trying to get her camera lens in place to take a shot.

“Be patient, look around, there’s plenty to see” I said spotting a group of monks chatting on the street corner, one gazing intently into his mobile phone. This was a far cry from the first time we had visited this spot…

We had marched through the crowds around the Colosseum and the Forum, walking past Circus Maximus stopping to imagine the crowds of up to 250,000 that would have gathered to watch the chariot races in times well past. We happened to be in Rome in 2006 when the Romans gathered there to watch Italy win the Soccer World Cup! We soldiered on to Aventine Hill.

We strolled through the Rose Gardens and detoured into Parco Savelli admiring couples having their wedding photos taken among the pine and orange trees and on to the end of the path to join others taking in the spectacular view across rooftops to the dome of St Peter’s Basilica from the lookout.

Wandering further up the rise we near the end of the street. The street is quiet, not many tourists wander this far. It looks like there is just us and a gathering in front of the Catholic Church. A few cars have arrived and we stop to watch as a family members get together in front of the church. Definitely Italians, all of them looking very stylish, men in suits with sneakers and women in flowing dresses and stilettos – we feel a little out of place and stand a little away to watch.

There is a lot of hugging, kissing and joviality as they congregate. We notice small groups break away one by one from the main gathering and walk towards a wooden doorway a few doors further up. Each taking a turn to peep through the keyhole and then return to join the rest of the family.

Reluctant to be taken away by the Carabinieri, we had wondered how we were going to surreptitiously find “The Keyhole” without peering through each one in the street!

We sauntered up to the doorway as if we knew exactly where we were going, closed one eye and took a peep. Words cannot describe the joy of that first simple peep through a keyhole.

And so, now we join the many who flock to have a look through the keyhole and the amazement on each face as they look once and look again twice is worth the wait. The view is one we will never tire of and it has become a custom to take a wander up the Aventine Hill. The joy of being a simple traveller!

Footnote: This photo does not do the scene justice. It is truly spectacular when seen with the naked eye!

The Lake District and Yorkshire Dales, northern England

Only have a short time and torn between visiting the beautiful Lake District and Yorkshire Dales in northern England. The good news is that you can visit both and spend a couple of days exploring each if you stay in the lovely market town of Kendal, lined with its limestone buildings.

Situated on the edge of the Lake District and lined with old limestone buildings, Kendal has its own historic past with plenty to do in the town itself and immediate surrounds. Did you know that the fictional town of Greendale in the Postman Pat stories are based on the town of Longsleddale which is near Kendal?

Kendal is quieter than the busy lakeside towns of Windermere and Ambleside but within easy driving distance to all the activities both the Lakes and the Dales have to offer.  There are plenty of pretty tearooms, pavement cafes, restaurants and traditional pubs to retreat to after a day out exploring.

We decided to stay at the Castle Green Hotel located just under 3km from Kendal town centre. Set on the outskirts of the Kendal overlooking the town with a backdrop of woodlands, the hotel provides the atmosphere of really staying in the country. The beautifully landscaped gardens, al fresco bar and restaurants provide an excellent sanctuary for those of us who opt to sit and unwind after the long drive from the south or a busy day hiking in the area.

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Breakfasts were substantial and varied with lots of healthy options providing us with energy and sustenance for our days out hiking and sightseeing. We took the option of enjoying a pre-dinner drink and an evening meal at the more informal on-site restaurant Alexander’s which is located in what was once the old stable area. It is well frequented by locals as well as visitors to the area. As well as outdoor seating, Alexander’s has a cosy area where you can sit down for a beer, wine or aperitif before dinner. Fine dining is available at the alternate restaurant, Greenhouse which serves the best of Cumbrian fare if you prefer.

Castle Green Hotel staff were professional and helpful, armed with hiking maps and advice on what we should do during our limited time ensuring we thoroughly enjoyed our time in visiting both areas and determined to stay longer next time.

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Hable Ingles? (Do you speak English?)

We climbed into the taxi at the airport somewhat bewildered after disembarking our flight. We had been whisked in a series of trains from the aircraft to the main terminal to clear Customs and collect our baggage.

With fuzzy brains, we were unanimous that it would be easier to catch a taxi to the hotel, where we would stay overnight before bidding our sons farewell as they joined a Contiki tour. We will take a more authentic driving tour around the country.

Our taxi driver seemed an amiable man who responded to our son’s “Hable Inglés?” with a tirade of Spanish that none of us could understand! The boys looked at each other, then us and shrugged. Our hopes of getting off to a start in Spain were pinned on the two years of Spanish lessons our sons had taken at high school nine years ago!

It was Sunday morning, with little traffic on the roads and we looked enthusiastically out of the windows. The taxi driver suddenly uttered something the boys could understand. He was asking where we came from?

“Oh Australia”, one of the boys piped up. A mile-wide smile appeared on the driver’s face. “Ahh, Australia, Casey Stoner, Casey Stoner”, the driver replied. The driver was a fan of MotoGP. We smiled and nodded furiously in unison.

For the remainder of our journey, the taxi driver became our official tour guide, pointing out landmarks, and proudly directing our attention to Real Madrid’s football stadium as we drove by despite being an Athletico Madrid fan. We felt privileged to receive his hospitality.

Outside the hotel, the driver indicated the amount on the meter and an additional surcharge, quickly pocketing the large note that He produced! Again, we looked at one another and instantly knew what hotel reception confirmed a few minutes later. Tour guides come at a price!

Settled in, we took a wander around Charmartin to research the important stuff – where to have dinner that night! The streets were deserted, everything was closed. It was like a ghost town. Mid-afternoon in Madrid, maybe it was siesta time.

When in Rome, do as the Romans do and when in Spain…  We had had an early start to catch our flight from Heathrow that morning and so siesta time it was.

Rested and relaxed, we resurfaced at cocktail hour. Still no one in the streets.

charmartinstattion

Charmartin is Madrid’s business district, well known for the two iconic inclined office buildings and the Madrid’s second largest train station. The hotel was across from the station, the reason why the Contiki group were meeting at this particular hotel and the reason why there was nothing open on a Sunday apart from a restaurant immediately outside the hotel.

A beautiful summer evening, we joined others sitting in the alfresco area and perused the tapas menu. Not a word of English. The only thing we recognised on the menu was “Patatas Bravas”. This was going to be an interesting meal. Out came our phrasebooks.

Phrasebooks seem to be very good explaining to the tourist how to ask for a beer in Spanish but totally unhelpful in deciphering a menu. Twenty minutes later and we were none the wiser.

A couple of young fellows at the table next door were enjoying a nice meal and speaking to each other in English. “That looks good, what are you having?”, we asked giving them our menu for them to point out their choices.

“We can’t understand a word of that. Here, take a look at our menu. It’s in English.”

The waiter must have thought we were Spanish!

Madrid

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