Our week in Porto sees us half way through our trip and it’s a nice long break: no rush, no driving, no major plans. Life on the road can be very tiring, so we’re happy to potter around for a week.

Monday (written by Rod)

Monday we decide to walk to the river again, but head upstream. First I check out the corner shop, which I think sells ‘Andante’ cards, which are needed for travel on their buses/light rail/metro transport system. (We want to avoid the walk back up the steep hills on our return.) It is a small, local store and was filled with locals when I scoped it out the day before. I do some homework on my translator app and have some key words ready to go.

I enter and ask “Andante cartao?” This gets a nod. “Tres” (with 3 fingers held up, to ensure there is no confusion) sees the attendant successfully grab 3 cards. “Adicionar credito?” I ask, to check if they can also add credit to these cards, gets the reply “How many trips do you want to make?” The rest is pretty much plain sailing.

Walking down to the river (along a slightly different pathway) makes yesterday’s walk feel like it had a comprehensive risk assessment carried out. This one is full of narrow, one-way lanes (can’t really call them streets) with no footpaths but a steady flow of motorbikes, cars and even a bus.

We reach the river and are urgently sold tickets for a “6 bridges” river cruise. The urgency suggests the boat is just about to leave, but is, in fact, due to the fact that the seller does not want us to buy from another provider. The boat leaves in 35 minutes. The cruise is pretty straight-forward. A bit upstream, to get a view of the first/last (depending on which way you look at it) bridge. Then head downstream, under 4 bridges to the last/first bridge, before heading back to port. No headphones/commentary, which I find a bit disappointing.

We wander along the river bank and are just about to look at some local wares. As we approach there is some sort of warning call from one of the vendors. Nek minnit, all the vendors are covering their wares with blankets. Is it us? We cannot be sure. However, we stroll on and find one willing vendor. She speaks several languages, is most engaging and offers us a special promotion; one for 3 Euros becomes 4 for 10 Euros. I up the ante asking if this could then become 6 for 15 (maintaining the same ratio, to be fair.) She counters with 10 for 20. Sold! It would have been rude to refuse such a bargain and Belinda walks away with 10 new bracelets.

 

Gelato (written by Hamish)

Mum and Dad finally find a gelato shop in Porto. The lady let us try some different types. I had two flavours: pear and chocolate, Mum had plain French vanilla and Dad had Port wine. We sat in the square and ate our gelato. It was sunny as, not like in Gaia.

Bus Trip (also written by Hamish)

We caught the bus on the way home, it was the 901. Mum and I had to sit backwards, which was really messing with my mind. Every time we had to go downhill, it was like a ride on a rollercoaster! But sitting backwards! Mum said, she might feel sick. But she was fine (luckily). She said next time we’re on the bus, she has to sit facing forwards. It was a wild, wild, wild, also wild, ride.

New Year’s Eve (written by Belinda)

After discussing the pro’s and con’s of being out late New Year’s Eve, we decided to have a long lunch instead, and be home for the night. Our apartment is the top floor with uninterrupted views towards the river; we’ll see more of the fireworks here without the hassle of the crowds.

This morning, we caught the cable car from Gaia up to the top level of the bridge, which Hamish and I planned to walk over. The bridge is 85m high: Rod caught the light rail instead. It was a nice walk, interspersed with Hamish loudly saying things like, “I hope the bridge doesn’t fall down” and, “What would happen if…” Probably what other people were thinking anyway.

 

We found Rod safely on the other side and saw a few other sites of Porto, before heading to a riverside café where we spent the next couple of hours in sunshine with drinks and snacks. Hamish easily fitted in a lovely big piece of chocolate cake, before we caught the 901-bus back home. True to my word, I sat facing forwards, but this driver was nowhere near as intense at the retired formula one driver who flung us around yesterday.

New Year’s Eve has seen us home, doing puzzles, playing games, listening to music, having a few drinks and looking out our windows each time we hear fireworks going off. Not a bad way to spend the end of the year at all.

Happy 2020 to all our family and friends. See you in a few weeks. Oh, and Aunty Jenny? We had a Portuguese tart – thanks for the recommendation. It was delicious!

 

After a sleep in and a late breakfast, we ventured towards the Douro River. We are situated in Vila Nova de Gaia (just Gaia to the locals) which is like a large suburb (maybe it’s a city in its’ own right?) on the southside of Porto. Our apartment is halfway between two of the six bridges in Porto. Today we walked to the river and took a left towards the ocean. It was a sunny 16-18 degrees all day, which made perfect walking weather.

The waterfront of Porto/Gaia is just gorgeous; tiny cobblestone streets weave their way down to the water. The buildings are a mix of old and new, but there’s plenty of charm and character and it’s not lost on any of us.

After about 45 mins of walking, we looked around for gelato or something snack-worthy. Instead, we found a number of seafood restaurants with an open-air BBQ set-up. We stopped at one that wasn’t too crowded and had a menu with some English sub-titles. As seems to be the way here, we sat ourselves down at a table of our own choice. The waiter was around quickly with menus and he did, thankfully, speak enough English for us to order our meals. We ordered half serves (‘half-dose’ in Portugal) but they were full serves in our opinions!

Pepper steak (Rod), cod (Hamish) and sardines (me) are ordered – I’m keen to see our fish come off the open-air BBQ. Drinks consist of Fanta for Hamish, which we’ve found is not at all like the sickly-sweet drink at home and tastes a little like orange/mango mineral water, and red wine sangria for Rod and I.

The three of us enjoyed a leisurely lunch and marveled at how lucky we are to be in Portugal on this gorgeous winter day.

 

Hamish has really impressed us both with his new found ability to walk long distances; we easily covered 7-8 km today and not one ‘are we there yet’ or complaint was heard. Also, he’s eaten a range of new foods, including nearly 2 of my sardines, the tiny soft fish bones didn’t bother him at all (I can think of stacks of people who wouldn’t enjoy those fish). Hamish said he really enjoyed today, because it was: “sunny and not cold – lunch was pretty good”, although he preferred the sardines to the cod he ordered (he said the skin was chewy).

We’re here until Saturday – spending a bit of time tonight planning out the rest of the week, including New Year’s Eve (stay in or go out?). Our apartment is perfectly situated for uninterrupted views of the fireworks over the river, so staying in might be more pleasurable than negotiating the crowds.

Christmas Day – Dinan

A distinct lack of bells meant we all slept in until nearly 9am on Christmas morning, whereupon Hamish discovered Santa had managed to track him down. Christmas Day was a low key, but very enjoyable day. We followed our traditional breakfast (ham on toast) with roast chicken for lunch. Sweet French delicacies followed.

As per usual, the post lunch Christmas walk was necessary. However, we found ourselves in the gorgeous winter sunshine down by the port of Dinan. This is a totally different Christmas to one we could ever experience in Australia due to: A – the weather (it’s not 42 degrees) B – the tranquil surrounding of the typical French countryside and port area, and C – the fact that it’s just the three of us. There’s something to be said about escaping the harsh Australian summer for a Christmas in Europe.

The return trip to our apartment finds us scrambling up le rocket street (an incline to be reckoned with) and discovering a more modern part of Dinan.

Boxing Day – Dinan to Bayonne

We set off on our 3-day road trip early Boxing Day morning, with eggs and bacon in our bellies. It was an easy 6 hour drive, with plenty of tolls to chip away at our euros. We are pleasantly surprised with the city of Bayonne – Belinda has pre-empted us with “It’s not a fancy hotel or anything” and “Don’t expect too much”. We find a park easily; the room is clean and spacious, and we walk across the bridge of the rivers Nive and Adour to a Christmas market in full swing.

We go on the ferris wheel, eat churros and find a Thai restaurant for dinner.

 

Asian is high on the food agenda in our family, so we were very excited to have some pad thai, fried rice and beef stir fry.

A note here about dogs. Dogs are largely indoor animals here in Europe, as there’s not much yard space. Thus, people take them wherever they go: on the tram, to the supermarket, out to dinner, ON THE FERRIS WHEEL! (We couldn’t imagine having taken Livy-girl on the ferris wheel)

 

Day after Boxing Day – Bayonne (France) to Burgos (Spain)

Our hotel has a continental breakfast; Hamish is super excited to have hot chocolate from the automatic machine. He also finds other sugar-laden breakfast treats which we try and mitigate with the suggestion of fruit and yoghurt. He’s loving it.

It’s only a short drive from Bayonne to Burgos, but Belinda has planned to break the trip up with a stop over (and walk) at the San Juan de Gaztelugatxe. This is a religious site, made famous by the Game of Thrones series (it’s Daenerys Targaryen’s Dragonstone). It’s a serious uphill/downhill trek.

Rod tags out at the start of the section over the ocean (due to acrophobia), but Belinda and Hamish go on. It’s worth the 240-odd steps for the views alone. The entire walk is loaded with people and dogs. There’s a broad range of people sporting various fitness levels and dress codes (mini-skirts, heels) – ages range from babies in back packs to Grandma’s requiring assistance from younger family members. Luckily Belinda didn’t have to resuscitate anyone; she would have had to resuscitate herself first!

Once recovered, watered and fed, we hit the road for Burgos, our first night in Spain. Our accommodation is smack in the middle of the old town, but we find it easily along with the car park (car parking is still one of our major dramas). For an extra 20 E, we pay for a two-room suite with a super view of Burgos’ immense Cathedral.

We unpack and head outdoors for a look around. We are pleasantly surprised with the beauty of the city. A chocholaterie is found and we have afternoon tea; the waiter thinks Belinda is English “The tea is not what you’re used to in England…”

We are unable to readily get dinner, since “the kitchens are closed” (despite overt signs advertising their restaurants). We later read that restaurants do not tend to open in Spain until at least 8 pm. We find a pizza place that clearly caters for people more used to eating at dinner time, advertising itself (in English) as an all-day eatery. Belinda and Hamish get their pizzas promptly, but they (twice) forget to cook Rod’s. Three (small, cheap) wines and 40 minutes later, his pizza arrives. All’s well that ends well.

December 28 – Burgos (Spain) to Porto (Portugal)

Possibly due to the fact that everyone eats late in Spain, we are kept awake by people (having a great time, most likely) out and about until midnight. We have another hotel breakfast. Hamish has found his chocolate mecca: hot chocolate, coco-pops, chocolate cake, chocolate doughnut. He also has a croissant with jam and a kiwi fruit (because Belinda insists).

We follow the snow-capped mountains (Cantabrian Mountains) west, until we head south, then west again, until we reach Porto. We have been travelling in the lofty ranges of about 1000m above sea level: often above the clouds, but it’s a sweet 14 degrees for most of the trip.

It’s 21 degrees when we arrive in the port-side suburb of Vila Nova de Gaia. Our apartment is the top floor and has amazing views over the Duoro river and down to the Dom Luis I bridge. We are staying here for one week and are really looking forward to having a bit of down time, as well as exploring some of the local delights.

 

As we write this, two loads of washing have been done, dinner tonight was cooked and eaten (salmon and vegetables – no more chocolate!!) soup made for tomorrow and everything unpacked. Phew! What a full three days we’ve had since leaving Dinan; but we’re all talking to each other, Hamish continues to be a trooper and Rod and I are still happily married. Can’t ask for more than that.

 

 

 

As I write this, I’m sitting in the lounge of our apartment in the region of Brittany, France. Yesterday we left the UK via the 0830 ferry from Dover to Calais. We picked up our hire car in Calais and headed south to the tiny medieval town of Dinan. We arrived last night at approximately 6pm – 12 hours after we left our apartment in Whitstable – but just in time to walk down to the town square to watch the fireworks. Hamish was weak with hunger, so we found a creperie, ordered from the French-only menu and had a lovely dinner before returning to our apartment. Our apartment is effectively 4 rooms at the top of a tower. It’s gorgeous and we’re here for Christmas.

Our last day in County Kent was spent at Dover Castle. Initially, we’d planned to also walk along the iconic white cliffs of Dover, but the weather and eventually the time, was against us.

Take a second to think about what the word castle conjures up in your mind. To us, a classic castle has draw bridges, moats, tunnels, battlements, spaces in the walls for firing arrows or muskets, cannons and stories of power and betrayal. Dover Castle has all of these things and more. We spent the best part of four hours at Dover Castle and still didn’t see everything.

Historically, (nearly) all the major players had some input into the site of Dover castle:

• The Romans – AD 43, built a lighthouse
• The Saxons – some time after that, built a church
• William the Conqueror – 1066, started building proper fortifications
• King Henry II – 1180’s, built the imposing castle that stands there now

A labyrinth of underground tunnels were cut into the chalkstone cliffs; some of these were built during the time Napoleon was keen to invade England (about 18^th century). Masses of soldiers and officers were barracked in the tunnels. As it turns out, Napoleon didn’t invade and the medicos at the time suggested existing below ground in tunnels wasn’t a particularly healthy way to live. However, the tunnels were given an upgrade during the second world war by Welsh Sappers (Engineering Corps), who happened to know a thing or two about mining.

We explored two tunnel systems. One was essentially a field hospital, complete with triage, operating theatre and ward beds. It was used for both civilian and military illnesses and emergencies. Sometimes, airmen were rescued off the coast and brought to the hospital and stabilized before being transferred to larger tertiary hospitals (sounds familiar).

The other tunnel system was used for strategic purposes, such as:

• Operation Dynamo – the evacuation of allied troops from Dunkirk
• Eastern defences
• Preparation for invasion

The weather was wild this day – the wind was so strong you really had to lean into it so as not to get blown off course! We braved it to eat our packed lunch outside and look over the English Channel. Rod and Hamish ate their sandwiches quickly and without issue, but I was not so lucky. A HUGE ocean gull dive-bombed me in order to take my sandwich: I threw my sandwich on the ground in an act of self-preservation.

From there, shaken as I was, we continued our self-guided tour of the castle. We walked up along the castle walls and eventually found another tunnel system, which was perfect timing as the heavens opened. These tunnels had cannons and slits in the walls for firing muskets.

Next, we explored the Great Tower. The spiral staircase seemed to be never ending – I mean, we’re talking maybe 150 steps to get to the top. But once on the rooftop (battlements) the view was definitely worth the leg work. It was super windy and cold, so we got a few pics, made sure Hamish didn’t get blown off the rooftop and made our way back down the stairs. We stumbled across a little museum within one of the castle buildings, and then decided to call it a day.

We headed back to the car and congratulated ourselves on deciding to visit Dover Castle. It was awesome. We have voted it as our favourite castle (sorry Dunnotar Castle).

 

Wednesday

After a full day’s driving, we arrived in the small seaside village of Whitstable, which is about 20 minutes north of Canterbury. Our apartment is fully self-contained, with a mezzanine level and sunken lounge room. It’s smack in the middle of the village and very comfortable. Rod popped into the local supermarket to get a few supplies whilst Hamish and I unpacked. We had a simple home cooked dinner, but it’s the first we’ve cooked from scratch since leaving Australia!

Thursday

At breakfast, I asked Hamish to look through the tourist information and pick something he’d like to do: he chose the swimming pool. Not exactly what I had in mind, but a good choice none-the-less.

We spent the day exploring the village on foot. Whitstable has plenty of shops, including a second hand book shop. I was about to walk past it when Hamish said, “Mum, you can’t walk past a book shop – let’s go in!”. (Of course, he found a book he wanted and has read it three times since!) We found the local castle, the indoor pool and the waterfront. We were lucky with the weather, a balmy 11 degrees and no rain! After walking the length of the village, we found treats from a cake shop and sampled the local cod and chips – Rod also sampled a “giant pancake roll”. The boys swam at the pool in the afternoon and I hit the local Sainsbury’s.

Friday

After a bit of Googling, Rod worked out a strategy for spending the day in Canterbury. This included a ‘Park and Ride’ car park/bus situation, as Canterbury centre is foot traffic only. We made our way to The Canterbury Tales, Hamish and Rod dressing as a Knight and King. The tour included some of Chaucer’s Tales and a bit of history about pilgrimages to Canterbury, and the bad blood between Henry II and Thomas Beckett.

After this, we stumbled across the Roman Museum, which was fascinating (and had also been on Rod’s list.) We literally descended into Roman history below the streets of Canterbury. The artefacts, history and archeology we encountered were amazing. Those Romans really knew how to build things – they invented ducted heating! Watching Horrible Histories (the TV show, not the live stage performance) has made many parts of the trip so far very relateable for Hamish. This has meant more time for all of us exploring things that might not normally interest a nine year old.

Like a rookie parent, Rod had pointed out on arrival to Canterbury, that the Christmas Markets sold German sausages and Hamish could have one for lunch. However, when it came to lunch time, we couldn’t find the sausage booth, could we. When I suggested eating elsewhere, Hamish’s eyes pleaded with me. “But Dad said I could have a sausage!” Canterbury was very busy that day and nothing happened quickly. The aforementioned sausage involved a ten-minute wait by Hamish and Rod, whilst I glowered from the distance. I might take this opportunity to also drop Rod in it, re: the weather. “No, you won’t need your puffy jacket, it’s going to be 12 degrees” It might well have been, but there was no accounting for the wind chill factor. I purchased a scarf from Debenhams.

 

Taking the opporutunity of still being in an English-speaking country, I duly lined up at the post office, to send home two tiny parcels and a handful of postcards. Again, this took forever – enough time for Hamish came up to me to whinge that Rod wouldn’t buy him a Jumanji DVD.

Oh, and lastly; the Cathedral. It’s incredible. No pictures we took do it justice. It is an architectural masterpiece – who said there’s no money in religion? (Nobody I know.) Amongst other things, there’s a shrine to Thomas Beckett (Saint Thomas), and a showcase of where he was brutally murdered.

The hallways are lined with the tombs of past noblemen and clergy, some dating back to 1100’s. Interestingly, the Cathedral costs 18 000 pound per day to maintain, so I didn’t really mind paying the entrance fee of approximately 38 pound. However, Rod wasn’t so keen to further support the Cathedral via the purchase of a tie (30 pound). Fair enough. (It was a rather good tie, though. And Rod prides himself on his tie collection. Still …)

The trip back on the double decker bus to the car park, was a bit of a highlight, as we sat up the very front on the top deck. Spot the country kids in the city.

Horrible Histories

A few months ago, after watching one of our favourite family shows (Horrible Histories), I said to Rod, “Imagine if they had a stage play and it was on when we’re in the UK”. A google search by Rod, showed they did indeed, have a stage show. AND, there was one in Blackpool (an hour North of Liverpool), when we were going to be around.

We checked maps, train timetables and accommodation bookings. It seemed too good to be true. We excitedly purchased tickets. This show is cool. And we were going to see the Christmas Special live on stage. Sweet.

Once in Liverpool, Rod booked return train tickets. We’d need to leave a little bit before the end of the show, to make the 9.01pm back to Liverpool. We spent the morning at the Liverpool Museum, then walked through the shopping precinct, where I was disappointed I couldn’t spend the day. However, we had Horrible Histories to get to.

At Liverpool station, we didn’t really pay much attention to other line cancellations due to ‘lack of staff’, or indeed, when our train’s departure was delayed due to having ‘no guard’. Rod said, “What a lame excuse. Imagine having no staff for the train at Christmas”. We giggled when the locals in our carriage started complaining in a style reminiscent of The Four Yorkshireman (Monty Python).

We arrived in Blackpool in time for dinner before the show. Have you been to Blackpool?? Not that we felt unsafe, but it just didn’t have a good feel about it. Still, we’re visitors, it’s not for us to judge the families huddled outside the pubs in the cold with their babies (but we did judge).

Horrible Histories was great. We loved it. Loads of jokes for both kids and adults alike. The HUGE theatre was only partly full, but this meant people could move to seats other than their allocated ones.  We snuck out just before the end of the show and easily made our way back to the station for our 9.01pm to Liverpool, quietly congratulating ourselves as being “Parents of the Year” – but this didn’t end well.

Without any notification, we arrived at Blackpool station to see our 9.01pm to Liverpool had been cancelled: they couldn’t find a driver. What a lame excuse…said none of us this time. The next train was scheduled for 10.18pm and there was no other option (costing less than 200 pound) to get back to Liverpool. We were devastated and angry and disappointed all at once. Except Hamish. He got to drink hot chocolate, eat chocolate and play his tablet. Rod played Pet Rescue, drank a coffee and I played The Cat Empire (and ate chocolate). It wasn’t just the waiting in the cold, empty train station that rankled, but the fact that our beautifully-laid plans had been derailed.

Our train did eventually depart at 1040pm and we arrived back to our apartment 1230am. Again, super proud of Hamish’s ability to cope when things got a bit tough.

 

Roald Dahl

The next morning, Rod picked up our hire car and drove back to our apartment where Hamish and I were getting ready. We left Liverpool and headed to our current destination of Whitstable (North of Canterbury). This was always going to be a long day, but exacerbated by our unexpected late night. We’d previously looked up how we could break the drive and found the Roald Dahl museum kind of on the way. The traffic in the UK is intense even during off peak hours, but we arrived in Great Missenden by 2.30pm.

I am pretty sure Rod and I enjoyed the little museum more than Hamish, even though we are all fans. I found it touching to see his writing studio preserved exactly as if he’s just walked out to get a cup of tea and his reminder for parents not to be boring and to have fun with their kids. Something we forget when we get lost in our busy lives.

“When you grow up and have children of your own, do please remember something important: A stodgy parent is not fun at all! What a child wants – and DESERVES – is a parent who is SPARKY!” Roald Dahl

You’ll be pleased to know I scored 80% on the Sparky-Meter (Grandpa Joe Level) and Rod managed a 70% – Fantastic Mr Fox level. Not too bad I suppose!

 

Sunday

It was an early start from Ballinakill to make our 1025 Ryanair flight to Manchester. Our hosts had packed us a breakfast to go, so we were full of fruit, yoghurt and muesli bars by the time we reached Dublin airport. Our entire process of dropping off the hire car, bag drop and flying to Manchester was seamless. We’d read poor reviews of Ryanair, but they were excellent. The flight was less than an hour.

You might be wondering why we flew to Manchester and not directly to Liverpool; the flights to Liverpool were either at 0600 or late in the afternoon. This way, we could catch a train or bus to Liverpool and still arrive in daylight hours. Interestingly, the train was going to cost us 38 pound each, as opposed to the bus, which was 12 pound for the three of us. We took the bus – one hour, no stops.

We found our apartment easily, (cobblestones again! our nemesis) just at it started to rain, and hauled our luggage up four stories. After unpacking, we did a quick trip to Tesco for supplies and settled in the for evening. All three of us exhausted from a long day.

Monday

Magical Mystery Tour by Rod

 Hamish and I were most excited about this tour, visiting several significant Liverpool landmarks synonymous with the history of The Beatles. Our host, Neil, was a wealth of information, with a multitude of facts, numbers and dates rolling off his not-too-Scouse tongue. He was funny, too. My favourite comment went something like “Paul, at 76 years, played 47 songs over 3 hours, without a break! To compare, Justin Bieber manage to play for 1 hour 10… too long.” We stopped at George’s birthplace, as well as the houses where the other 3 grew up, along with Penny Lane and Strawberry Fields.

I was quite emotional at various times, since The Beatles have been such a big part of my life. As a bonus, we got to see a couple of streets where they film Peaky Blinders. (Set in Birmingham but filmed in Liverpool.) When the bus finished its trip we were able to wander into the Cavern Club, or so we thought. Who knew there was a Cavern Pub right across the road! Ten photos and a video later, we realised our error and dropped into the real thing, which was much busier and more atmospheric.

We found our way back to the ticket office at Albert Dock to meet Belinda. From here we continued “B Day” by visiting the Beatles Story museum, where Hamish and I heard and read much of the same information we had already digested on the bus. This is what we call recapitulation in the trade. It was still music to our ears. We must have remained excited, since we spent 60 odd pounds in the souvenir shop; something that my Scottish blood does not normally tolerate. All Beatled-up and aglow, we walked back to our apartment to enjoy a laid back afternoon.

 

Western Approaches Museum by Belinda

Whilst the boys were off on their Magical Mystery Tour, I walked to the former site of the Western Approaches Command Centre. This former top-secret site was set up during WW2 to increase safety of shipping (both military and civilian) after huge losses of merchant ships and men. It also served as a secret training base for naval commanders learning how to out-maneuver German U-Boats. Staff (many of them young females) coded and decoded messages, plotted aircraft and shipping, and followed naval battles. Their mathematical accuracy enabled search and rescue missions to be directed to the site of downed planes or sunken ships, ultimately saving lives.  Being three levels underground, it’s not hard to imagine the stress and excitement that would have been associated with working in such an environment.

Tuesday

Hamish and I walked down to River Liffey to pick Rod up off the airport bus. It started to rain, so we waited for him in the comfort of a nearby Starbucks. We spent the afternoon at Dublinia, which is a tremendous little museum dedicated to the story of The Vikings and their part in Irish history.

From there, we had a quick bite to eat followed by an hour tour of Dublin Castle, complete with moats, ancient walls and the more modern entertaining rooms, which are lavish and gorgeous.

We had dinner at The Oak pub, a few doors away. Hamish has had a very hearty appetite so far on this trip and he made short work of an adult serve of Beef and Guinness pie.

Wednesday

After getting on the wrong bus and having to walk an extra kilometre with luggage (after reading Rod’s account of his transport woes in Germany, no wonder he put us on the wrong bus), we picked up our hire car and headed out of the city to Galway.

We stopped at Athlone along the way for morning tea. After commenting on his excellent coffee, our barista gave us great recommendations of where we could get good coffee in Galway. Irish hospitality at its best.

Not long after this, I started to feel a bit off. This turned into intermittent abdominal pain and nausea – we thought maybe I had a bit of gastritis again (not gastro). I’d had a spot of gastritis back in Wangaratta a few months ago and thought we’d managed it well.

We arrived at our BnB in the early afternoon and Rod got me some supplies from the local pharmacy. The boys went to the Galway Christmas Market for the evening and I went to bed. Hamish and Rod had a great time at the Christmas Market, eating all the sugary fatty foods they wanted without me there to keep a check on them!

Thursday

I woke up feeling better and managed a cup of tea and yoghurt for breakfast. Our plan for this day was to drive to Killarney via the Cliffs of Moher. However, five minutes out of Galway, I was in intense pain, coupled with the sweats and nausea – everything rolled into one. Rod pulled over, but he wasn’t really sure what to do. I took some more antacid medication, but this didn’t work and the pain started up again. I suggested to Rod he take me to the hospital.

Fortunately, we were close to the Galway Clinic. Looking very much like I was having a cardiac arrest, I was seen immediately. Got a full cardiac work up and imaging, but in the end, looks like it was an acute severe episode of gastritis. I was discharged with scripts, results and advice to follow up for a scope when I get home. The ED Dr also suggested I could have picked up a few shifts whilst I was there. If I’d realised at the time we were at a private hospital and we were going to be billed $1000, I might have taken him up on the offer!

The drive to Killarney was dreadful, in that I was nauseous for the entire trip. At one point, Hamish was desperate for a wee. Whilst Rod found a car park, I had to leave the confines of the car and walk Hamish into the Co-Op to find the toilet. I decided that I also needed to use the facilities. There were two empty men’s cubicles, so I told Hamish to wait for me. Alas, I’ll spare you the details, but Hamish had to find me some toilet paper. What a little champ. I told him I’ll never forget the time he saved the day and rescued me with toilet paper!

We arrived at our BnB just out of Killarney, where I showered and went to bed. Hamish found a friend in the hosts’ 7 year old son; they bonded instantly over Lego and Minecraft. Rod and Hamish went into town for dinner and to get scripts filled for me at the pharmacy.

Friday

After a restful night’s sleep in a very lush BnB, I woke up feeling great. The boys enjoyed the array of breakfast foods, and I had some tea and fruit toast. Again, we didn’t really get to explore the surrounds due to me being unwell, which is just unfortunate. We drove to our current stay, Ballinakill in Co. Laois via Cork. One of Rod’s Uni mates lives ten minutes away with his partner, so we are here for two nights. We’ve had lunch and dinner with Gerard and Fiona and met some of their friends. The roads are windy, narrow and hedge rowed. It’s a beautiful part of the world and we feel very welcomed here.

Saturday

Today we had a lovely breakfast of cereals, yoghurt and freshly made scones with homemade raspberry jam and fresh honey. What a treat. The hosts are both teachers and Anne is a primary teacher. She has spent much of the morning entertaining Hamish, which has been fabulous. Quizzes, games, collecting moss for Christmas wreaths – Hamish has just loved being here. Yesterday he helped walk the dog with Will and Rod. This morning it snowed for about 5 minutes – just long enough for us to get excited.

We ventured into Kilkenny today and loved it too! Although it was pretty cold – see for yourself from our Michelin-Man like appearance in the photo. We’re having dinner again with Gerard and Fiona tonight, then tomorrow we head to the UK, flying from Dublin to Manchester, then catching the train to Liverpool where we’ll stay for a few days.

 

If you’re thinking of coming to Ireland, definitely do it. The hospitality of the rural people is second to none. And other than me being unwell for a few days, we’ve had a wonderful week.

 

 

Written by Rod

Whilst Hamish and Belinda headed to Dublin, I was enjoying a sidestep to Heidenheim, in the south of Germany. Let me backtrack a bit, though. My last school day for the year (Friday) kicked off in a most unusual manner. On arriving to the staff room my eye was drawn downwards to a bit of movement on the floor. Squirming away in the corner of the doorway was a wee tiger snake, no more than half a step from my feet. It took a while to register that it was, in fact, a snake welcoming me to my Friday. (I have taught for a long time and a staff room snake was a new experience for me! One more thing ticked off the bucket list.) Thankfully it headed underneath a couch, waiting to be captured, but it did not bode well for my last day at work. Waiting for me at the other end of my day was my adorable year 9 double Maths lesson. Luckily I survived both of these incidents relatively unscathed and ready for my trip to Europe.

I said so long to Belinda and Hamish at Dubai before my solo flight to Munich. There I caught a bus to the Central Train Station. No problems then buying my train ticket for a 3 hour trip to Heidenheim, with one change of train (all listed on my ticket) at Ulm. The train departed at exactly the 2:35 pm advertised kick off time; German efficiency, I thought to myself. Many announcements were made (all in German) as I mindlessly noticed how many farms had vast arrays of solar panels. However, one announcement was also thankfully made in English; informing me that that train would split in two at Augsburg, with the front half going to Ulm and the rear half going elsewhere. Of course, I was at the very rear of a very long train. At Augsburg I made a mad dash along the platform, getting as close to the front as I could, just to be sure.

At Ulm, things got messy. I had about 20 minutes between my trains and made my way to the advertised platform (again on my ticket) to find a very crowded train. I panicked and quickly found a small crevice to slide into, before thinking: I wonder if this is actually my train? It wasn’t. Disaster narrowly avoided as I alighted just before it departed to God knows where. Another train then arrived, on a different platform. Nobody seemed to know for sure where it was heading, but I took my chances and arrived safely in Heidenheim 50 minutes later (at 6 pm), to find Esther, my hostess, waiting for me. I do a quick calculation to realise it is just over 36 hours (with about 1 hour sleep) since we left Wangaratta.

Klaus has been unwell lately, but he and Esther are generous and welcoming hosts. We stayed with them on our last trip to Europe and I am pleased to see them. Klaus tells me that German Bahn (rail) is rubbish and I was lucky to get a train at all!

We have six students on exchange here at the Max Planck Gymnasium and I meet them for lunch on Sunday and visit them at school on the Monday. It is a fun visit and they are all enjoying their time on exchange.

I get to the station in plenty of time to catch the 1:00 from Heidenheim back to Munich. The train does not arrive as the platform gets more and more crowded. The information board maintains the 1:00 departure line until about 1:15, when it just gives up and starts telling the time, pretending there was no train scheduled. Somehow the train has just vanished! No announcement, but gradually the commuters gravitate to platform 2, to catch the 1:24 train. Much to my relief, this one does show up, albeit a bit late.

The next morning I am at Munich Terminal 2 at 6:15 am for my 8:30 flight. The Lufthansa area is vast and bright and yellow. I have checked in online and arrive at baggage drop to find no queue (not one person) and 4 staff to assist me. I am through in 20 seconds. Security is slightly more busy. Passport control is a joke; I walk my way through the maze of crowd control ribbons, literally the only person in the queue and am through to the departure gates at 6:22 am. Unbelievable! The bubble bursts, though, when we have to walk down 8 flights of stairs and catch a bus half way across Munich to our smallish plane which has not one spare seat and no meals. Just a few bland biscuits flung at passengers from a cardboard box. Still, I am on my way to catch up with meine Familie.