Pops

We are spending two nights in Glasgow. Our first impressions were that Glasgow seemed a dirty run down sort of city. It is past it’s “prime” in some ways. It once boasted 50 shipyards... now it has three. It was once the second city in the UK, with well over a million people. Now it has 600,000. We went on a bus tour this morning and got to appreciate more of the city.

We had wanted to stay in Edinburgh, but it has the Tattoo running and a fringe festival. When we tried for Hostels we could not find one in the city area that could house us. We decided today to hop on a train about midday and go to Edinburgh. We spent about 6.5 hours there, had a bus tour and did our own exploration. We were home at 9 p.m. but were pleased we took the trouble to visit. Edinburgh is a much more interesting city than Glasgow.

In both places we felt at home. Listen to these names..... Dundas Street, (Actually we learned that “Dundas” was a crooked rich guy) Hanover Street, George St, St Andrew St., Buccleugh St., Fredrick Street, Princes Street, High Street,.... etc. They pinched them from Dunedin.... NOT. :-)

Glasgow will be remembered by me as the place I received an insult! Rather than doing our usual walk to our hostel when we arrived in Glasgow, we took a taxi. I was thrilled because they were “London Cabs” and I wanted to ride in one of these some time in our holiday. A rather over weight, balding 40 - 45 year old driver got out. Jean was asking the questions while I loaded our luggage. In a cab the luggage goes in where you sit. He came around to me and asked, “Are you OK with that Pops?” .... I won’t tell you what I called him under my breathe! Here he was younger than me, I could certainly out run him. I could most probably out lift or out work him. And he calls me “Pops”! Grrr. (I have learned that if the stairs are wide enough I can put all of our four bags somewhere on my person and carry them up. I’d like to see him do that! “Pops” indeed! ... the cheeky @*#%8! )

Photos:

• The sign that greeted us when we got off the train in Glasgow. It was the Queen Street Station. The language underneath I think is an early scots Gaelic. It is funny, the locals speak English, but you have to listen hard and go over the sounds in your mind to work out the words. (We probably sound similar to them.) An announcement over the speakers spoke about "gates". ... It sounded like "Geets".
• Edinburgh Castle. We came upon it by accident. We walked up High Street through crowds of people enjoying fringe festival stuff and found we were at the Castle Gates. We kept walking into the Castle area, enjoying the scenery and buildings, until we came to a person clicking admission tickets. We had enjoyed enough by then so spun around and went out. (After using their free loos) The blue seats are for the Tattoo. We went a way past there.
• An ancient tower in the Merchant City area of Glasgow. Just across the square was where you went at a certain time if you wanted to know the latest news. Someone would yell it out from a balcony.
• A London Taxi. This one in Edinburgh. They are made (handmade apparently) to very clear specifications in Coventry. I think they are great wee vehicles, I would love one.
• As we looked for a way out of the Glasgow station this sign greeted us. We felt at home, Dunedin has a "Dundas Street".

Last Day in London

We had our last day in London today. Sitting in our room in the London Indian YMCA I can hear the noise of London outside. It is like the noise of a bee hive, a combination of all the city's sounds into a constant busy buzz.

Of all the cities we have visited I have enjoyed this one the most. Perhaps because there was no language barrier? Each city has its strengths and certainly Paris has amazing stuff. London has great stuff too, and it just seems to say, "Here it is, what you see is what you get."

I like the people spaces in London. Some examples;

- The space around the Tower of London. The families, exploring history together, ... mum and son walking around the sun dial. The kids and crowd cheering on the knights fighting in front of the Tower.

- Soho square has outside table tennis tables. I watched a grandfather and granddaughter playing.

- Covent Garden has space for buskers, tight rope walkers, magicians and other entertainers. Great crowd participation.

- Kensington Gardens near Royal Albert Hall ... People relaxing there before the Proms.

I have enjoyed the people;

- The people have been friendly, helpful and relaxed.

- There is a sense of humour... the train is packed, no personal space and people laugh at one another's predicament.

- You make a fool of yourself at the tube station by asking a stupid question and its OK.

- I have enjoyed the fact that I didn't have people at the various sites trying to push miniature models of the Tower at me or trying to pressure money out of me. Again there is this more laid back approach.

I have enjoyed learning about the history.

- NZ inherited so much from UK history so in a sense their history is mine also.

We are off tomorrow to visit York, Glasgow, Aberdeen, Carlisle, Cardiff and return for one last day in London before returning home.

Photos:

• The tube can be disturbing at first because you have no idea about the direction you are moving. I was dead scared of catching the wrong train, but in the end enjoyed darting about London on it.
• The London Eye gave this great view of the Parliament buildings. So much history! So many issues have been beaten out within those walls.
• I think the bridge looks great! It still opens, but big ships have to give 24 hours notice these days. The spaces around it are marvelous... the Queens Walk, the river sides etc.
• The Tower with a battle between two armoured "knights" happening and people cheering.
• The video below of Big Ben signaling 11 a.m. I remember as a kid sitting around a scratchy radio listening to Big Ben chime!

This tourists inner conflict

Questions

Aramoana is a settlement near the mouth of Otago Harbour. Mention it's name around NZ and people now know it as a place of tragedy. A gunman went on a shooting rampage there and thirteen people were killed. When they explored that gunman's house they found weapons, books about weapons and killing etc. People said of this and other such sad discoveries in other cases, "The guy was unbalanced - obviously! Look at the things he had in his house!" I visited a "house" recently, a much visited house. In at least three of its rooms guns lined the walls. Swords were displayed all over the place. In another there were several trophies of war. I was visiting with an Indian friend and one of the trophies taken after some battle with an Indian ruler was a golden tiger's head. The commentary raved on how this was "taken after... such and such... a battle." I turned to my friend and said, "They stole that from you guys!" Of course the house was Windsor Castle, a place revered by the british people.... but I found myself questioning the values we revere and endorse in such a place. I have been visiting such sites in European cities over the last few weeks, and am disturbed by the things we often value. There are buildings, statues and whole sites set aside remembering triumphs in very dubious wars! "This was built to celebrate Napolean's triumph over...." the voice on the hop-on bus commentary says. But in my inner being I am asking, ...Hey.... should he have been fighting them in the first place? Probably "No!"...Secondly it wasn't "Napolean's" triumph.... it was his soldiers'... probably a bunch of poor guys fed as cannon fodder into battle to please some unbalanced twisted priorities of their imperial leader! ... And should we be remembering and reinforcing such things, holding them up as fine examples of what it means to be a hero in our cultures? Are these worth heralding in our global world?

Again we have been looking at opulence, ostentation and examples of how people showed others that they were "rich and powerful". More than one commentary has said that these things were built, or collections gathered to show other nations, or world leaders or visiting dignitaries just how powerful they were. In simple terms so many of these things were done or built or gathered to "show off"! My guess is that when they were done there were countless beggars at the gate struggling for daily bread. (They are still there today) I value the works of art etc. but I find myself conflicted by the values that brought them about and the values we express by revering them so much. On one hand in the school playground we tell children off for "showing off", but in other ways through our media, tourism and the lifestyle we promote we encourage it, and hold it up as almost the very purpose of life.

Then I have visited Churches. In the famous churches the two dubious values mentioned above are repeated. Ostentation ("This church was built by...") and militarism seem to be given the "big guy's" green light, - even divine recognition by being represented in a culturally moulded religion. While recognising the history and the art, in my inner-being I find myself disturbed and questioning. I find the words of Jesus challenging the things and people revered. "Those that live by the sword will die by the sword!" ... "Love your enemies"... "Give to the poor". Also the Apostle Paul's words, "Do not let the world about you mould you according to it's pattern. But let God transform you..." (Romans 12)

The good life?

Here I am swanning around on an extended holiday being a tourist. Visiting sites like the Eiffel tower, St Paul's, London Bridge, Big Ben, The Louvre, Windsor Castle etc. etc. I am eating often in restaurants. People have said to me, "You lucky thing!" I know also that many of the people I mix with will never get to do such a thing. If I tell stories of my journey they will sit there getting quite jealous. (I also know that my life savings will take a big hit!) I guess such overseas experiences are things we covet. We often save, plan and look forward to them...... Now I am learning heaps. I am enjoying myself. I am trying to make the best of this opportunity. But there is a real sense in which I could say, "I'd rather be at home." I had my friend Laurie Findlay die and I hated being over here. A man in one of my chaplaincies had his wife die in the last few days. I had been talking to him when she was terminally ill and he had told me that I would take her funeral. I hate being over here! I would rather be there able to give support. I see beggars in the street here. I cannot do anything about them! At home I can try. I went to St Pauls and sat there frustrated because to my mind here was an opportunity to present to "the world" a "real" religion and it was, in my opinion, squandered. (Perhaps a theme for another post) At home I can do something about presenting a real religion. So, for me, being on holiday, being a tourist is good, O.K.... but living a useful life at home has more "bang for your bucks", more "kicks", more significance. My big OE is good, but not a major highlight in my life.

This was driven home to me yesterday.... We were on the internet trying to plan what we will see and do in the days in the UK after we leave London on Thursday. (I know it's a bit late!) While doing this I received news via "facebook" of the death of the chaplaincy guy's wife. I was so distraught I said, "Here we are trying to work out how we are going to fill our time up, when there's stuff I could and should be doing at home! I HATE it here!" Our tourism seemed so insignificant compared to what I could be doing at home.

Now what am I going to do today... explore Soho, see if we can get on "the eye", maybe visit Westminster Cathedral, and end the day with an evening at the Royal Albert, and take a London cab ride home .... What a mixed up boy I am!

Video: The bells of St Pauls. (turn yourr sound on)

A lovely host.

Windsor Castle visited...

Isaac is the brother of a lovely Indian lady in our Church congregation. I have never met him before but she made contact with him when she knew we were going to London. He lined up the hostel we are staying in. It is the Indian YMCA hostel. It has everything we need. We are enjoying Indian meals. Isaac has been a great host to us today. He lined up tube tickets, train tickets and tickets to Windsor Castle and took us out there today. It was special. It has so much history attached to it that made me wish I had paid more attention in history classes at school. Isaac has been simply wonderful and we just hope he enjoyed his day. We look to spend more time with him tomorrow. We have found the local people friendly so far. I have an acquaintance who warned me UK people were "an arrogant bunch". That has not been my experience today. Staff at the castle for instance chatted freely as we waited in a queue, or informally made suggestions and generally were human and warm. Likewise people on the trains, in the local pub and in the street have been friendly. I'm going to enjoy England I think.

At the local church we picked up this prayer which I thought wasn't bad.

God, our Heavenly Father, make, we pray,

the door of this church

wide enough to welcome all who need human love

and fellowship and a Father’s care;

but narrow enough to shut out all envy, pride and lack of love.

Here may the tempted find help,

the sorrowing receive comfort,

and the penitent be assured of your mercy;

and here may all your children renew their strength

and go on their way in hope and joy,

through Jesus Christ our Lord.

(Thomas Ken, Bishop of Bath & Wells 1684 - 1711)

Photos:

• The Hostel we are staying in.
• Our new friend Isaac. He's a social worker here in London.
• Part of the castle and local village. It rained quite hard when we came out.
• The soldiers guarding the castle.

Police Presence

It has been interesting seeing the police presence in the various cities we have been in.

In Brunei at the airport there was quite a presence by police. We were in the departure lounge having gone through security when an incident happened that brought the police presence to light. There was no toilet in the departure lounge so if you wanted to go you had to register your desire with those at the desk, and then be allowed back out to the toilets at the airport. This lady must have had a rough lunch because she went in and out a few times. She was on her way out and a senior policeman shouted at her, “Wait! No! Not again... you have been out lots! What are you up to?” He did not do this quietly, but loudly, waving his finger at her and demanding to see her passport. He had several strong loud altercations with her. There was no drawing her aside and talking gently to her, it was quite an aggressive interaction..

In Poland we did not see much of the police. We were visiting the castle at Krakow and going through an archway when two armed police turned the corner and walked directly toward us. We were walking against the wall and we would have had to change to single file to avoid them. It must be my childhood angst against authority, but I consciously decided I had a right to keep walking the line I was walking. The policemen kept coming. I nonchalantly looked at the scenery then as we got closer eyeballed the one in line with me. At the last moment he stepped behind his mate. I said to my son who was walking behind, “That policeman wasn’t going to move was he?” My wiser son said, “He’s got the gun dad! He’s got the gun.” On every train trip we took in Poland, several police personnel passed through the train - guns, batons, radios and handcuffs all hanging off them. On the train from Poland to Czech we did hear a man getting told off in a compartment down from ours. I think he had a domestic with his wife and the police intervened.

At Prague railway station there were heaps of police, all in riot type gear. We thought some incident might have happened but there did not seem much urgency. In the streets they were always present in big numbers. They walked the footpaths or sat in their vans at strategic points. They had a fancy wee three wheeled motor bike for getting around on quickly. We learned that there were national police and city police. They all carried guns.

In Berlin there did not seem to be a great police presence, except a guard outside some embassies. At the flash big railway station there were about three pairs of policemen who mostly gave people directions to parts of the station, again they were armed.

Walking miles around Amsterdam we only saw two police officers, appropriately riding push bikes, again armed.

As we alighted the train in Paris we saw a big bunch of police officers almost blocking the platform. I thought at first they were stopping people randomly, but then I realised they seemed to be after young blond women. (like a lot of young men, I guess) They were pulling these aside, checking passports and questioning them. Having grey hair we went by and continued into the Gare de Nord. As we went past a stall we encounter three french soldiers. They were in a triangular formation with machine guns at the ready marching through the station looking very intense. The front two were very young and they wear these oversized funny looking berets. I said to my wife, “Good grief! School Cadets!” She was busy telling me to “Shsh!” We saw a similar three-soldier formation of soldiers at the Louvre, at the Eiffel Tower and again today at the railway station. We were at a war memorial place overlooking the Eiffel tower in the bus and saw three van loads of police turn up. Returning there on foot the next day I was watching about a dozen hawkers with little blankets on the ground trying to sell little “Eiffel tower” trinkets. As I was looking at them and their attempts to pressure the visiting public, suddenly they all started to fold up their blankets. What had happened to cause this evacuation? I looked behind me and there was a policewoman standing looking at them with a grin. They all packed up and shuffled around the corner until she left. I suspect the police the day before had been there to deal with these hawkers, who can be very pushy.

As we left the St Pancrass, London station today we walked behind two English Bobbies. It felt like NZ, they had no guns and seemed a friendly part of the crowd. I even saw one with the old style police helmet on. It was refreshing.

Photos:

* The fancy bike Police in Prague have.

* Just some of the police at Prague Station when we arrived. They heard Jean was coming.

Paris post.

Goodbye Amsterdam... hello Paris

We said our farewells to Amsterdam. It was not without a hitch. We were pleased to get out of our bad lodgings and walked to where one of our maps said there were taxis. No taxis there. Not to worry I had googled “Amsterdam Taxis” the night before so had a number. We rang and waited outside of the zoo. ... they had said one was on the way but none came... starting to panic.... rang again... just a lot of garbled dutch.. A lady in a local vets opposite rang another taxi firm for us... A taxi was there in minutes. We even found the right wagon to climb on to this time and we had a great train ride... FAST... The guard was nice... scenery interesting.. acres of glass houses near Rotterdam, a look Brussels, Antwerp and finally the Paris “Gare du Nord” station.

Sick of Concrete, Cars and Cobblestones.

We walked to our hostel. ..only trouble was the web site link gave directions to another hostel around the corner. I had twigged to that inconsistency and thought I had it all worked out in my head. We walked up and down “Rue de Rochechouart” looking for number 37. We went in there but it was offices, with a receptionist who did not understand English, just as we did not understand her French. I was tired, sweaty and frustrated by this time. (I had a heavy backpack and was towing a heavy bag) .... “Where is the bloody place? It better not be like the Amsterdam one!” Then I clicked.... The place we were looking for was 37 “BD de Rochechouart” (Boulevard) which intersected with “Rue de Rochechouart” which we had been trudging. In the middle of all this frustration I let off steam. “I am getting sick of high old buildings, narrow roads, cobblestones, cars and people! I need grass and bush or I’ll go nuts!” Anyway I found the hostel and it is luxury. We discovered we get breakfast thrown in which was a pleasant surprise.

The French are interesting!

After arriving sweating and tired at our lodgings we rested briefly and headed away to explore the city. All down the street we discovered men talking to one another, and they talk loudly, waving their hands about madly. You think they are having an argument, but no it seems to be just the way they are. Till well after midnight last night we heard loud French men’s voices discussing life. At breakfast this morning two guys met for the first time and pretty soon the whole breakfast room could hear and see their conversation. We found a quiet looking place to have our evening meal on our first night, and a group of men two tables away, with one loud woman, and another couple on the other side were having a conversation... and they were noisy! Emphatic gestures, loud protests and lots of resounding laughter. Wow! Even the waiters talked loudly among themselves!

We decided to walk down the street to get away from the noise. The traffic is mad! They love to use their horns! (Which I am sure are louder than NZ cars!) A pedestrian crossing means nothing! Even when a pedestrian crossing has a little green man/light telling you that you are free to walk, ...don’t believe it! The cars, bikes and motor bikes keep coming if you let them! We stopped for dessert opposite the “Gare Du Nord” (the main railway station) As Jean went to order our ice cream I watched the passing parade of people and cars. (I actually love people-watching) There was a beggar trying to sell stuff and beg sitting on the footpath keeping an eye on all. There was a taxi blocking an exit, cars parked where they shouldn’t be and groups of african-french young people relating, showing off and sounding off. A driver was yelling at a couple of policemen. A taxi driver was yelling at him. The two policemen were trying to calm things, but also hand out tickets, which only agitated more people. Cars were getting blocked, a bus came to a standstill, an ambulance tried to pass and it was all accompanied by people seemingly yelling at each other. The beggar was laughing and enjoyed pointing out the tickets on the car windows to the returning drivers. It was just delightful chaos! (Provided you were not the patient waiting for an ambulance!) Nice to visit, but I would hate to cope with it everyday.

Majestic Buildings

On our first full day we hopped on an open topped hop-on /hop-off bus. (Yes it drizzled... we got our cheap ponchos out and some cheeky pommes suggested we’d get blown away) We traveled around Paris visiting the main tourist attractions and listening to the commentary. We hopped off the bus at Notre Dam Cathedral and had some lunch in a quaint cafe. Then we walked... around Notre Dam, past some magestic buildings, over the oldest bridge (16th Century) through the grounds of “Musee du Louvre” (the queue was a mile long... too long to wait.) along “Rue de Rivoli” through a bit of a park to “La Place De La Concorde”. From the bus in the morning I had spotted a toilet underground, under an impressive looking statue, so this brought welcome relief. (There was a queue for some pay toilets nearby so I felt suitably superior - though the french noticeboards could have been telling me ours was not for our use - but I was happily ignorant!) Then we marched up “Des Champs Elysees” to the “Arc De Triomphe”. Every step in this city is a photo opportunity. Even the scummy old buildings seem to have a charm and exude history and mystery. It certainly is a majestic city! We caught the bus to the “Opera”, and walked home from there, stopping for tea along the way.

On our second day we headed out on the bus, getting off on the stop before the Eiffel tower. We walked past war memorials (as my wife pointed out... they are ALL war memorials!) down through some gardens, across the river to the tower. We had planned going up it. Being mid summer holiday here there were lines of buses queued up all over the place. Each corner of the tower boasted a twisted, back and forth queue of people waiting to pay their fee to climb the tower. We estimated we would have to wait a minimum of an hour, probably more whatever queue we joined! Mixed in with this were pushy people trying to sell us mini Towers, beggars asking for money and a whole host of young indian looking women asking “Do you speak English” who would then show you a card with the same heart breaking story.... “I am from Bosnia... I have a baby... “ They look at you with pleading eyes... “Feed my baby???” and always warnings about pick pockets and shady looking characters mooching around. We decided we had seen enough of the tower and caught the bus again into town. We window shopped our way toward our place, explored a bit further and bought some cold tea. Looking for a place to sit to drink it, we found a park. A wasp came and annoyed my wife, attracted by the can of drink. She raced uphill to get away from it. We discovered (though my wife had read about it) la Basilique du Sacre Coeur. It was like a gift to us. There were crowds of people watching various clever busking type shows. There was a reverent queue going into the Basilica which we joined. On the outside of the church we were invited to come and “Adore our Lord with us” and informed that for 125 years somebody had been praying in this church at all times of the day. We came out of the Church after a quiet sit for a while, and were confronted with a majestic panorama of Paris, looking down on the Eiffel tower in one corner. It was a great finale to our visit to Paris! The best site we had visited in our two and a bit days here. There were the beggars and gypsies trying to pressure money out of us on the way down. We keep spotting homeless people with all their belongings around the city. One came to our sidewalk restaurant as we finished our meal tonight. But we felt we had enjoyed this crazy, majestic and busy city.

We have been to Krakow, Prague, Berlin, Amsterdam and Paris. Each city has sounds, sights, strengths, smells and a culture that is different from the others. Tomorrow London awaits.

Photos:

• The toilet with a statue on top of it that I spotted. Pretty fancy!
• Three "Paris" photos. The Basilica we discovered by our hostel is the middle one.
• I was wrong... there are public toilets in Amsterdam. This is one ("too bad if you're a woman" says Jean) I spotted as we looked for a taxi.

Amsterdam

First Impressions and grumps.

Our first impression of Amsterdam was not very good. An overcrowded and dirty railway station, a taxi driver driving worse than I drive and lodgings in a dive of a place that smell. ... We have had fun but it does seem like a dirty city with a lot of rubbish lying about. It also lacks public toilets! ...... but that's enough grumps!

A Gay place to be.

When we arrived at the railway station we did notice some people wearing costumes and pink hats. I thought nothing of it, this is Amsterdam after all. Our speedy taxi driver, however, informed us that we had just missed the Gay Parade! There was a gay festival in town and many shops and cafes were decorated with things pink! (Balloons and streamers) It has been an interesting experience walking around amongst same sex couples holding hands. A couple of guys walked past and one had a tee shirt on with an arrow pointing sideways and the words, "I think he's gay!" I also heard a couple of couples (men) having a domestic like a husband and wife. ...."Where are we going now?" .. "I don't know it's your day." "My day.. is it! How come it's my day?" ... and so they went on. People are people, who ever they are. Anyway, the whole thing has added to our experience of Amsterdam.

An interesting mix

Another interesting thing... we walked around an old protestant church. Within spitting distance of it's walls were windows where near naked prostitutes were showing off their bodies in the hope of selling themselves and earning some money from men leering at them as they walked by. I could not help asking myself, "If I were minister of this Church, what sort of ministry could I offer in this setting?" If Jesus were there, how would he react? What would he offer?

Bikes Rule!

We have walked for miles around Amsterdam, but as a pedestrian you soon learn that bikes rule here. There is a part of the footpath bikes use, and woe to you if you walk on it when a bike is coming... which is just about always. They mostly are old looking (though they are new) 28 inch bikes with their riders looking regal sitting bolt upright on sprung seats. Even cars give way to them. They are everywhere! There are all sorts of adaptions for carrying kids, your shopping and you can double your girlfriend with her sitting side-saddle on the carrier. Parked bikes invade the foot path and we saw a parking building today which houses 25,000 bikes! Many buildings have eyelets attached to their footpath wall so that you can lock your bike to them. All sorts of people ride them. Children ride small ones sometimes attached to their parents'. Fat old men ride them. Matronly women, men in business suits and gorgeous looking fashionably dressed younger women. Sometimes the bikes are decorated with artificial flowers or have the pet dog sitting in the basket. Bikes are simply EVERYWHERE!

English speakers.

We have been impressed when we go into a shop, cafe or interact with people in general, they will easily slide into very clear English. They will come up to you speaking their mother tongue, but as soon as they realise you speak English they have this ability to speak it fluently also. I visited a brewery today. I walked in looking for a toilet. This lovely lady came up to me as I started to go down a hallway toward where I thought there was a toilet. She asked in dutch what I wanted. I said, "I speak English". She immediately said, "How can I help you?" I said I was interested in going on a tour .... she began to spell out how I could and what it involved in perfect English...I interrupted, "I WILL do the tour, but I first want a toilet." She grinned, and explained where to find one, then as I thanked her and headed away, she flashed a smile and said, "You will come back and buy a ticket?" "Yes" I said... "Promise?" "I promise!" I replied. ... As I dashed away I could not help but be impressed with her ability to give cheek in this way in English. I am sure I would be so much slower! But we have discovered all sorts of people able to do this. We are impressed.

United nations gather...

In each place we have been we have been asked directions. We were heading home from our adventures yesterday and stopped at a corner consulting a map. Two women came up to us. "Do you speak English? Do you know where Rembrandt Square is?" They were from England. We admitted that we did not know, we had been in town for a whole 24 hours, but we did have a map. As we sat there another guy came up, and talked saying he had just found a supermarket. He was from New York. We laughed.... Two from the UK, two from NZ and one from New York all struggling to find their way. We shared a few moments chatting, consulting the map then said goodbye like old friends.

How dare she!

We have had a couple of evening meals at a cafe around the corner. They can speak in English and they even have a menu they can give you in English... they also have good food and the nicest beer I have ever tasted... brewed by "Amsterdam Brewers" I am told. There is a waitress there straight out of a James Bond movie. Nice figure, olive skin and blue eyes. The way she wears her black jeans and tee shirt (unbuttoned of course) with her electronic waitresses gismo slung on her hip like a gunfighters side arm, sets even my old pulse racing. She is friendly and has chatted to us about our adventures. Tonight, however, she broke my heart. We had been talking about where we had been and where we were intending to go yet. "How marvellous, " she said, and she gushed about "Paris" (said like the french do) "It is sooo good," she gushed, "that you, at your age are brave enough to do such things, to go so far." I had stopped listening. "AT YOUR AGE!" How dare she! ... anyway there have been some perks of looking old. We get into everything at pensioners rates!... so there!