The van arrived at our cottage on a Sunday lunchtime. It was a Luton which was meant to be dedicated to us but the company had made a few changes with times and dates and then when it did arrive it had a big pallet with an unknown person’s possessions neatly packed in the bottom taking up what appeared to be a third of the van. The lovely driver George (who spoke Romanian, Spanish and French but no English) assured us that ALL of our stuff would fit in. He didn’t want to eat anything and only took a cup of black coffee, then worked very hard, alongside The Man, me and a few of our neighbours. I was astonished at how fast and efficient George was. At the end of the packing he then had another cup of black coffee and informed us that he was driving to Glasgow to drop off the pallet! He informed us that his boss had not arranged things well . . . an understatement I should think. We waved him on his way and confirmed that we would meet him the following Wednesday down in the south of France near Carcassonne.
GEORGE BEGINNING THE PACKING WITH SOMEONE ELSE’S PALLET ALREADY ON BOARDALMOST DONE
After he left we had twenty-four hours to clear our remaining belongings out of the cottage to neighbours or the local tip leaving an Ikea pull out sofa bed in one bedroom and a pile in the middle of the room downstairs to be collected by a family member. Good old Joe! Some furniture was to remain in the cottage. I like to clean up before I leave a place but this time it was impossible. We’d been severely flooded three times in the previous two months and I just couldn’t face it. The Landlady informed us she was completely renovating and ‘fumigating’ the place, starting on the 1st February. Not quite sure she had the correct word with ‘fumigating’ I hope she just meant a deep clean. . . hmm 🤔
We slept the last night in our little cottage already exhausted and we hadn’t even begun our journey. Around 5.30 am I sat bolt upright in bed and asked The Man, ‘Where are our passports?’ I have never seen him move so fast and the words that came out of his mouth are unprintable…(for my blog anyway). ’ F***k!’ followed by many expletives, ‘They’re in the f*****g van in my chest of drawers! What the f**k are we going to do now?’
I quickly texted the boss of the removal company explaining what had happened. He wasn’t that helpful, first he informed us that we were 500 kgs overweight and that it would cost us double the amount of the original quote for him to get across the border with our load! We had not a leg to stand on. . .(I was still in bed anyway but. . .) not a leg and not many chairs to sit on so we had to agree. He then said that George would meet us that night in Dover. We were leaving from Folkestone, going through the tunnel, but I was prepared to drive ANYWHERE to get our passports! He didn’t know what time George would arrive as he was coming from Glasgow (yes we knew that and thank goodness he DID have to drive to Glasgow before heading to France, otherwise . . . who knows.
Eventually we left the cottage, the car complete with roof box packed like I’ve never seen it packed before. You could not have pushed, squeezed, fiddled another article, object or doohicky in there. (Don’t ask me what a doohicky is, I just wanted to use the word). We drove to the Hotel in Folkestone closest to the tunnel arriving around 7pm. We ordered food and wondered what we would do until midnight and could we even stay awake to drive to Dover.
NOT SURE WHAT THE EXPRESSION ON MY FACE MEANS!
Good old George, he called us around 9pm and said he was in our hotel carpark. Amazing. We rushed out to greet him but he wasn’t there. A few texts, dropped pins and a location photo later we could see he was around the corner in a deserted carpark at a closed garden centre.
‘Attend George, attend pour nous!’ I sent a frantic text, we leapt in the car and google mapped our way to the van. Relief all around when George threw up the tarpaulin cover, dropped down the back panel and there stood The Man’s chest of drawers. He (The Man) climbed up and retrieved our passports from inside the top drawer. It was the best feeling. . .
SEARCHING THE VAN IN THE DARK PHEW!OUR NEW PLACE JUST AFTER GEORGE LEFT US WE MANAGED TO GET STRAIGHT WITHIN A FEW DAYS
Click on the arrow beside the slide show below to see more images.
We have arrived, and our names are on the post box. This is just the beginning of our new adventure. Our small town has a great deal to offer. A small lake, an entry to the Voie Verte ( a wonderful cycle path covering many miles in France), trails through the vines and of course a bakery. . . yum! We also have a butcher, a grocery store, the doctor, the chemist and a couple of cafés, also as a choice of restaurants. I cannot wait to discover more of the area. It’s early days, we have been here for just three week and I’ve already met a couple of writers, joined some local associations and even attended the AGM of one of them! I’ve written very little since we arrived (for obvious reasons) but I’m looking forward to being very productive in February. Look our for a cover reveal and news of Loose Ends publication!
I read a post this morning by Sally Jenkins. She writes about whether or not it is worth blogging and it’s an interesting topic. I remember when I first began to write a blog several years ago, one of my children said, ‘What have you got to blog about mum?’ and this can sometimes prove difficult. Especially if, like me, you also send out a Newsletter and you want to make them different. Looking through my blog posts this morning I see they are quite eclectic, there is no one theme running through but several; writing, travel, loss, living etc.,
This pretty much sums up my character. I think I live for change and diversity. The idea of only writing in one genre, having the same hobbies, living in one place for any length of time just doesn’t appeal to me. I have written an published a memoir Dear Tosh. I have completed a debut novel Loose Ends due to be published this spring, I write poetry, short stories and whilst clearing out a cupboard last week I found a pantomime script and a script for a musical written several years ago.
As for hobbies, I have tried many including, chess, keep-fit, horse-riding, carriage driving, flower-pressing, piano and guitar playing. . . I could go on. I’m rather up for trying a bit of pottery, I love The Great British Pottery Throwdown and it begins again this week. I also love the SewingBee. Sewing was/is also one of my hobbies but I was never very good at knitting, and only tried crochet the once.
Travel is not exactly a hobby but it is something The Man and I enjoy very much. As you may have read in a couple of blogs this year we visited South East Asia, Italy, Austria, Switzerland, Germany and France (don’t think I’ve missed any out). This last country, France, has captured our hearts and on impulse at the end of 2023 we decided to try the South of France on a more permanent basis. We’ll be close to Carcassonne and Limoux but plan to explore far and wide when we’re there. I’ll try and keep you posted. Right now we’re busy packing everything up and I’m busy panicking about whether or not it will all fit in the van and if it won’t what will we do with it?
Below are some photos from 2023…there were thousands to choose from so I basically just picked at random.
2024 will see big changes for me and for The Man. He’ll go back to more cycling, because he loves cycling in L’Aude and I’m hoping the French countryside (and weather) will inspire my writing and by the end of the year I will have another novel to publish. . . or maybe a memoir. . . or perhaps a poetry pamphlet. . . or. . . who actually knows?
The years go by and each one of them holds at least two days of significance; the date of his birth and the anniversary of his death. I dread both of them coming up but often the anticipation is worse than the actual day. Tosh was born on the 30th November 1983 so this year he would have been forty — I cannot imagine him being that old.
One of the first things that happened on the morning of his birthday this year was that a newsflash popped up on my phone to say that Shane MacGowan from The Pogues had died. I immediately smiled — an odd thing to do you might think but Tosh was a massive Pogues fan and somehow I found the news comforting.
Recently, Geoff and were clearing out books and inside one of them I found the scribbled notes I made about Thomas’s birth just after he was born. They were written, in pencil, on flimsy paper and it’s amazing that they’ve survived. It was strange to read them all these years later.
We left for the hospital around 5am on a very cold and frosty morning (where have I heard that before? ) I’ve adapted some of those notes I found for you to read here:
I am checked by a nurse/midwife when I first get to the hospital, in the very early hours and I am told nothing much is happening. A few hours later I am checked again and apparently now I am 5 centimetres dilated. ‘Still not much happening,’ the nurse said. That was around 10 o’clock in the morning. By 11.00 I’m getting edgy, the pains are really strong and I’m sure the baby’s almost here, but they won’t check me again,. The bossy nurse speaks again, ‘We only check every four hours.’ She scares me because that means they won’t check until two o’clock! Surely, she expects me to have the baby before then! At 11.30 I’m desperate, I make such a fuss she concedes. Then, muttering under her breath, she proceeds to check me once more. ‘Right,’ she says, ‘we’re ready.’ As though she knew that I would be all along. It’s 11.45. Suddenly it’s all panic and they quickly wheel me , on the bed, into the delivery room where it’s go, go, go. No need for too much detail here it’s all pushing and pulling etc., At 12.29 the midwife says, ‘You have a lovely big boy.’ I look at him on the bed and he looks me straight in the eye. I am speechless. Then I say to my husband, ‘he doesn’t look like a Thomas, Anthony or George . The midwife hands him to me. He feels heavy, he is wide eyed and looking around his new environment. It is a miracle.
We did call him Thomas Anthony George, Thomas because we loved the name, Anthony after my brother and George because it was a good English name, according to his father. His initials, T.A.G. turned out to be appropriate for a graffiti artist.
30th November 1983 was a Wednesday. You know the poem?
Wednesday’s Child was full of woe. . .This mad me very sad when I read it because Tosh was a really happy, smiley little boy and grew into a lovely, handsome and compassionate young man. So many people said good things about him at his remembrance service in Bristol in January 2011. His boss from the catering company in Cardiff for example said that when walking through Cardiff Tosh would never ignore anyone destitute, sitting on the pavement, but always had a word for them and a spare bit of cash. He said, ‘It didn’t matter to Tom what their background was or who they were , he would always stop and speak to them.’
Me Reading at Waterstones on the 30th November 2023
What did we do to celebrate Tosh’s 40th birthday this year? I gave a reading and a talk about him and for him in Waterstones Bridport. I set up a just giving page for Julian House and we’ve raised £352 so far. The fundraising is still active so if you feel you could give something towards it that would be wonderful. I know Tosh would highly approve of helping the homeless, especially at this time of the year. The link is HERE
The next significant day for me is the 14th January 2024 and it will be thirteen years since we lost Tosh. Unbelievable. On the 12th July 2024 it will be thirteen and half years. . . half his lifetime. . . . ❤️
After the busy and research filled visit to Trieste I thought our time in Vienna would be a quieter more relaxing stay, and in a way it is. The historic centre is traffic restricted in many places, and you are more likely to be knocked down by a bicycle than a bus. The roads are extremely wide and the side streets, on the whole, are pleasant and interesting, with few pedestrians. The same can’t be said for each of the many tourist attractions, which are heaving and occasionally pretty claustrophobic.
Every corner that you turn reveals a magnificent structure, be it a palace, a museum, a library, public offices or even an apartment building. On every other corner there is a café, a chocolate shop, or a konditorei (cake shop).
SachertorteEmpty Plate… it was delish …These carriages are everywhere in Vienna. The horses seem very happy and clean. The ground is wet not from the rain but from the horses’ legs being hosed down.
On the street where we are staying, the façades are classic early 20th century, flat front but embellished, architecture. It is exactly how I would have imagined it. I love it. But, for some reason it doesn’t inspire me to write, at least it doesn’t fire my imagination to create any fiction. I’ve tried to work out why this is and I think it might be because everywhere is opulent. We’re staying close to the historic centre and one would think I would be bursting with ideas for some romantic, fiction about the young Hapsburg children running about in the palace grounds or a fictional depiction of the much discussed and possibly reinvented wife of Franz Joseph of Austria, Elizabeth (known as Sisi). Their whole lifestyle, the grandness and sheer ‘overthetopness’ of it all leaves me a little cold. Sisi had long hair down to her ankles which took three hours everyday to groom and style. It took a whole day for her to have a bath and wash it. I mean honestly! There is no doubt that Sisi is an interesting character and you can read more about her here.
Vienna was, or should I say, ‘is’ The Hapsburgs’. The family ruled the Austro Hungarian Empire from 1867 until 1918 and before that the Austrian Empire from 1804. The House of Hapsburg was founded in the 11th Century so they have been around for a very long time. However, when visiting the palaces and museums here, the emphasis is most definitely on Franz Joseph (ruled 1848 – 1916) and Maria Theresa who ruled from 1740 – 1780 with her husband Francis 1st. Her father, Charles IV, paved the way for her succession with the Pragmatic Sanction in 1713 which would allow a women to take the crown when there were no male heirs. A forward thinking man maybe, but in reality, he just wanted to make sure the Hapsburg line continued to rule.
These two monarchs, Franz Joseph and Maria Theresa, feature heavily in all the attractions of the city, even though there were others obviously – in 600 years there had to be. I didn’t know very much about either of them before I came here, at least I knew of them but that was about it. For me, it was interesting to see the connections between Trieste and Vienna and the Hapsburgs. In Trieste we visited the Miramare Castle built by Archduke Ferdinand Maximilian of Austria who was the brother of Franz Joseph. He was the Emperor of Mexico but was deposed and subsequently shot in 1867. In fact Franz Joseph was an unlucky man, first his brother is killed, then his son commits suicide (see below), then his wife was murdered (also see below), and to cap it all, his nephew and heir, Franz Ferdinand was assassinated in 1914 leading to the beginning of WWI and the collapse of the Hapsburg Empire. Franz Joseph died in the Shönbrunn Palace on 21st November, 1916 at the age of 86. He ruled for 68 years.
Below are some of the facts that have grabbed my interest whilst in Vienna:
Trieste was the sea port for the Austro Hungarian Empire for many years. Marie Antoinette was one of the daughters of Maria Theresa. Sisi was assassinated by an Italian anarchist who went specifically to kill somebody else in Geneva but the guy he had planned to stab had left the building earlier that day. He went on to stab Sisi, he didn’t care who he assassinated:
‘ I am an anarchist by conviction… I came to Geneva to kill a sovereign, with object of giving an example to those who suffer and those who do nothing to improve their social position; it did not matter to me who the sovereign was whom I should kill… It was not a woman I struck, but an Empress; it was a crown that I had in view.
The son of Sisi and Franz Joseph died in 1889 at their country hunting lodge known as Mayerling. It was all a bit of an intrigue as he was there with his young mistress Baroness Mary Vetsera, and they both died in what was suspected to be a murder-suicide pact. This incident is of particular interest to me because of course there is a ballet of the same name choreographed by Kenneth Macmillan to the music of Franz Liszt. based on the story. Read more here
It’s all history innit?
PALACES IN VIENNA
There are a number of palaces in Vienna, we managed to visit three, The Schönbrunn Palace, The Hofburg, and The Belvedere,
The BelvedereThe HofburgThe HofburgThe BelvedereThe Schönbrunn
Yes, it was a bit seen one you’ve seen ’em all but…The Belvedere housed a wonderful exhibition of sculpture and art and we browsed the various rooms with pre and post WW2. Very interesting. The Schöbrunn was all all about Queen Elizabeth wife of Franz Joseph I, known as Sisi, (see above).
Klimt “The Kiss” One of the famous Messerschmitt heads Egon Schiele “The Family”
Photographs from the Belvedere Exhibition
The Hofburg Palace was also home to the Spanish riding school. I was unable to get a ticket to see a performance but I did do a tour of the stables. Photos were limited, we weren’t allowed to take any actually inside the stables where all the mature stallions were kept. So I just got a couple of shots of the younger ones. I didn’t take very good ones but…
I’ve never liked the idea of the stallions performing all those high dressage steps and dancing but visiting the stables and listening to the tour guide I became convinced that the horses lead a very happy life with plenty of holiday time during their working life. The mares are kept at the Lipica Stud Farm in Slovenia. It was pointed out to me that they only use the mares for breeding and in any case the mares are not interested in ‘showing off’ like the stallions are. They don’t need to bother with all that sort of malarky. The stallions on the other hand love to flaunt themselves and be the centre of attention. There is a fascinating history to the breed and to the Spanish Riding School. You can take a look at some videos on Youtube if you want to see performances and more about them.
The School The very untidy tack room The even untidier and filthy yard. . .😂One of the lovely stallions Tack room cat Another gorgeous boy
The Man and I also took a tour of the Opera House. Tickets weren’t available for a performance, which was just as well because they were a tad pricey! €250 for one. An expensive night out which we couldn’t really run to. But, we could visit the opera house for the small price of €9 each as were are over a certain age. The English speaking tour was fully booked so we had to choose between Japanese or Italian. Yes, of course we chose Italian. I was surprised at how much I understood although he did rather rattle through things.
The auditorium The central staircase (from the side)Can’t remember who this was? The ceiling…(obvs) The empty stage, preparing for the evening performance Ticket ITALIAN 😊
We did a huge amount of walking around Vienna and everywhere there are beautiful buildings to see. The Man and I feel we barely scratched the surface of this wonderful city and it’s definitely worth a second and even third visit. Have you been? Let me know in the comments what you think.
On Thursday, 9th August, I attended the first of five sessions to learn ‘how to deal’ with social media. The course, Content Compass Bootcamp, is run by the amazing Joey Clarkson, whose energy and versatility encouraged us to participate fully in every exercise she set. We were given monthly planner sheets and post planner sheets and a veritable wealth of information to help us up our social media presence and build confidence in our brand, product, writing project. . . or whatever it is we are working on or towards.
Putting into practice what I’d learnt, I uploaded a video to Instagram a couple of days ago. It was about those pesky words we writers use too often. I was searching my WIP for the word ‘that’, which I know is a horrible word, and I use it too often. I tend to write things like:
She thought that he was staring at her. The word that is totally unnecessary. She thought he was staring at her is sufficient and reads much better.
I don’t know why I do it, but I found over 1000 ‘thats’ in my 83,000 word manuscript.
The video went out to the public as a reel, and to my astonishment, it was watched (to date) over 2,000 times, and I gained 30+ followers in twenty-four hours. Which is amazing. The thing is, I know I have to keep this up and that is where the Planner Sheet and the Post Planner Sheet come in handy. I now have to post regular content to social media at least three times a week. This blog post is will be my second post for this week and I have to do at least one more before Sunday. . .Yikes! I think the best way is to make videos and prepare content in advance which I’m trying to do. This last week was a little difficult because I was on Nonna duties, and my days were taken up with the grandchildren, which of course was a pleasure, but left me less time than usual to get organised. But, I’m making excuses!
Gotta dash now. . . I have to make a video, take a photo and write some content before I head off for a pedicure at eleven. Well, you have to keep things in perspective don’t you?
I’ve had a busy month so far and that’s because I’ve been doing a lot of writing. I’m actually well into re-writing my debut novel but more about that another time. Not quite ready to share yet.
Writers spend a great deal of time sitting at their desks, either on their computers or with a notebook, at home or in cafés. Wherever they choose to write they are probably sitting down. I’m lucky, I have a writing space on the landing in our cottage and it’s perfect. A desk, bookcases, printer etc., and a lovely view to the farm across the road. But what do I do when I’m not sitting writing?
This year I made a conscious decision to get out and about more. Until last August we had the dear dog, Jpeg, which meant I went out every day for a walk at least once and often twice. Without the dog I have looked for other forms of exercise. I do walk without the dog and also do quite a lot of online fitness workouts. But, two weeks ago I took the plunge and joined a Friday morning silent disco run by the extraordinary Angie Porter (this is her facebook page). She is a vibrant member of the local community and on Instagram she describes herself as:
❤️ 🎨 painter 👩🎨 writer ✍️ performer 🎤🎭palm tree lover 🌴 🌴 🌴teacher and joy freak 🤩 📽 ☀️
I didn’t know what to expect as I’ve never been to a silent disco before (my kids thought I’d lost the plot) I absolutely loved it. You couldn’t get further away from writing at a desk. I found it exhilarating. I came back full of energy and raring to get on with the day. I’ve now been three times and the last time I went, which was yesterday, the weather was atrocious but we carried on anyway – it takes place outside under a large open sided covered area at The Grow Slow Nursery and The Packhorse Cafe so we didn’t get soaked. We had a ball. The photos below were taken on Friday 7th July. Lovely women. We are dancing sisters.
The silent disco is advertised as GET UP AND DANCE. You do your own thing or dance along with others. It’s energetic, fun and all the other women taking part are inspiring, friendly and supportive. A new community into which I’ve been welcomed with open dancing arms. LOVE IT It is women only by the way.
I’ll be posting a Newsletter soon, so those of you who have signed up to receive one, look out for that. Sorry it’s all been a bit erratic lately but that’s life folks!
You can watch me/us dancing on the following links:
Last night I joined a radio programme on BBC Five Live to talk about, ‘How to deal with grief when you lose a child in sudden/unjustified/ inexplicable circumstances’. You can hear it by clicking on this link. BBC Five Live Stephen Nolan The interviews begin around 12.02.
Colin Knox, father of Rob Knox the young actor from Harry Potter who was fatally stabbed in 2008 was also on the programme. We talked about the loss of our sons and how we’ve coped with grief over the years. I said that writing helped me a great deal and I remembered that I had posted a blog about this in January 2022. If you haven’t seen it yet, you can read it by clicking on this link: Writing to Someone You Have Lost
There are many other ways of coping with grief and writing about it isn’t for everyone. Each person’s loss and grief is different. But give yourself time and allow yourself to grieve in the way you need.
HOW TO HEAL
Courage is needed open your heart and share your words with friends small steps at first accept that proffered hand repair takes time grasp each stage
In the end grief will diminish though it will never leave out of the haze the light will emerge night always passes
Siem Reap was the last place we visited on our SE Asia trip. We took a taxi from our hotel in Phnom Penh to Siem Reap. I had read somewhere that this trip was not for the fainthearted but I figured it couldn’t be that bad. It might seem rather decadent to take a taxi but the cost for a 6 hour trip was only 120 American dollars. It should have been 90 but we were travelling on Saturday 15th April which happened to be the middle day of three days celebration for the Cambodian New Year. We didn’t do our research! This event was massive and everyone (except us) became involved in the activity of firing enormous water guns, or hoses at passers by, either on foot, tuk tuk or moped. They gave everyone a good shot of water and a dowsing of flour. I have not got to the bottom of this tradition, but if I ever find out I’ll let you know. The whole thing escalated as the day went on and by the evening it was a full blown battle. Geoff and I kept our sightseeing to the daytime, when all the revellers were sleeping. There was not much evidence of over-consumption of alcohol, and we only saw the riot police once so it was an orderly event on the whole. Nobody got hurt — they only got wet and sticky.
Our taxi driver, Vanay, was friendly and happy. He spoke very little English but nodded and smiled at everything we said. He had two mobile telephones that constantly pinged and beeped. He spoke on the phone — not hands free — and sent several text messages, all whilst driving along a two-lane main road at furious speed, weaving in and out of the traffic, overtaking cars, buses, bicycles and mopeds and honking his horn every single time he passed the latter of these. It was hair raising and nerve wracking. The trip was 342 km and for every single one of those kilometres my heart was in my mouth. The sad thing about the journey was the amount of plastic rubbish we witnessed on the sides of the road, the animals grazing amongst the empty bottles and bags. I don’t think there was even a 100 metre stretch that was clear of it. Come on Cambodia . . . sort this out if you can. We made a couple of stops on the way. The first one was for Vanay to hose down the car, for no apparent reason, it didn’t seem dirty. We thought he was stopping for fuel but no. ‘Would madam like the toilet?’ he grinned. I declined as we’d only been on the road half an hour and had not even left the outskirts of Phnom Penh! The second stop was at a popular roadside cafe/shop/toilet area, which was nothing like a UK motorway services except for the tat they had for sale there, hats, plastic toys, cheap toiletries etc., you know the sort of thing I mean. There were some impressive dragon fruit though, for less than a pound (5000 riel). I found the money very confusing and couldn’t get used to spending thousands or millions on something that in sterling was very little money. At the the third stop, Vanay unloaded a large box from the boot of the car and passed it to an ‘associate’ who had arrived by moped, not sure what he was delivering but the mind boggles. There was more room for our luggage after that stop. At the last stop he delivered another package in a plastic bag, which had been nestled on the floor of the car beside him, in the front. I thought it was his lunch but obviously not. A young boy and girl came up beside our taxi on their moped, money exchanged hands and then they were given the package. Hmmm… interesting.
Vanay on the phone the boot before the delivery Pit stop Cambodian style Dragon Fruit Fast food Veiw at the pit stop
Siem Reap was buzzing with New Year activities as we drove into the city. The taxi was sprayed with water from hoses and everyone ran about the streets excited and happy to be soaked or soak others. We were glad to reach the haven of our hotel, the Chateau d’Angkor La Residence. Our room was again a suite with kitchenette and sitting room. There was even a washing machine so I was able to do a wash, which dried on our balcony in no time. It was still very hot so we took a swim before eating in the hotel dining room. We did this each night while staying here, mainly to avoid the party goers in the streets. It was fun to watch them from the safely of the hotel balcony. I thought I had captured some video of the water fights but sadly they’re all rubbish. You’ll have to use your imagination. Sorry. Lots of noise, water, fun and laughter. . .
One morning at the hotel we were visited by a group of dancers. They told the story of a young deer being caught by hunters. That’s about all I can tell you. Guests and staff at the hotel threw money at them which they collected in baskets and naturally we joined in throwing notes of thousands of riel (it was all monopoly money to me). I noticed that the staff were throwing HUNDREDS of notes at them, great wads at a time, how generous I thought. However, later that day when we walked to the museum there were people selling wads of notes, 10,000 riel (£2) I think they were. It was obviously some kind of tradition to have fake money to bandy about the place. ‘I hope the dancers at the hotel realise that the money we threw at them was real riel!’ I said to Geoff.
Beautiful Cambodian waitress at the hotel The dancers with their baskets of money Just one example of a water gun – look at the size of it!
We wanted to take a car to Angkor Wat but were advised not to do this until Monday when the festival would be over. So on Sunday we visited the museum, a walk away from our hotel. Air conditioned and very well set out, we walked around for a couple of hours looking at various exhibits and watching short films about the history of Cambodia, Siem Reap, Angkor Wat and Thom Wat. Geoff was far more interested in it all than I was, I’m ashamed to say, it all left me rather cold. I couldn’t get enthusiastic at all. Perhaps I would be more excited about visiting the actual sites.
We arranged to leave the hotel at 7.30 on the morning, for our visit to the temples. ‘The earlier the better,’ said the receptionist. Our driver and guide, Khoshal, took us first to buy tickets from the Angkor Wat ticket office located in the city, they took our photographs and handed us our personalised passes for, I think, five temples. It was a short drive to Angkor Wat and the receptionist was absolutely right to tell us to leave early. It was already heaving with people in the car park and by the time we left, two hours later, you couldn’t put a pin between the visitors or the parked vehicles. The lovely Khoshal, parked up and waited for us.
The causeway across the moatThe side elevation…and me (nobody else around) Angkor WatInside Angkor WatAll dressed up for the New YearThe field of heart flowers
We had to walk through a rather large commercial area with a great deal of stalls selling souvenirs as well as food and drinks, rather as one is forced to walk through duty free at any airport before you can find a place to just sit and wait to board the plane. We didn’t stop at this point but just followed other people who appeared to be heading in the right direction for the temple of Angkor Wat. It was an impressive sight, reached by walking along a causeway over the man made lake that surrounded the temple, like a moat. It is impossible to imagine how many people (slaves?) it took to build this huge, extraordinary monument. Although it has been restored to some extent, the pathways, steps and corridors were in places precarious. We walked from one side to the other and then all the way around. It was interesting to see that only a few people ventured around to the rear of the building. We were almost alone, compared to the front which was as packed as Piccadilly Circus on a Saturday night.
There was some kind of community exhibition on, we couldn’t quite work out what is was all about, but there were thousands of small hearts on sticks stuck in the ground like fields of flowers and also pinned on strings and hanging on square frames. Quite a sight to see. I think they were all made by school children.
From Angkor Wat we went to Angkor Thom, which as one time was the largest city in the world. It has many gateways, causeways and temples, the most well known being Bayon. The driver parked up just opposite the Bayon temple and waited for us. I was flagging in the heat but Geoff was keen to look all around. There had been some kind of festival there the night before and they were dismantling the ‘scenery’. It was odd to see the golden polystyrene Buddah, rocks and temple parts being loaded onto the back of a truck. The remnants of the flowers were wonderful.
We stopped at one more small temple before visitingTa Prohm, the temple of the trees, which was to be our final stop of the day. This, I found most impressive. We were dropped at the West Gate and Khoshal said he would meet us at the East Gate, we just had to walk straight through, which took us about an hour. The trees have grown through the ancient walls and are now make up an intricate part of the architecture. The most famous one was almost impossible to photograph without a tourist posing in front of it, but we did our best.
I’m truly glad we went to Angkor Wat and all the other temples, but I think I prefer more modern history and visiting places where I can imagine how people lived and I just cannot relate to these ancient times, although I can when it comes to ancient Roman history. Is that because there are so many films about Rome and not about Cambodia?
This concludes my posts about our trip to SE Asia, except to say that I found the money very confusing indeed. We flew back to Bangkok where we had a one night stay before flying back to the UK. We had no baht left when we reached the hotel and Geoff had some work to do. I left him and went down to the hotel shop to buy milk, teabags and a few snacks to see us through. I had forgotten they didn’t take cards in the shop. They showed me to the cash machine outside and I promptly withdrew 10,000 baht thinking it was about £50. Oh dear me. Geoff was slightly horrified when I told him. ‘You’ve just drawn about £250 from the bank and we’re not even here for 24 hours!’ he said. Oh well. . . next time he can go for the milk and teabags. 😂
We flew from Vientiane to Phnom Penh with Vietnam Airlines. Both The Man and I were a little anxious. It’s our ages I think and remembering the flying reputation Vietnam had in the past (very old Russian transport planes), but, it was a brilliant flight. The aeroplane was very modern, the flight attendants pleasant and smiling, the women elegant and the men smart and pleasing. I sound like an old lady but honestly they were so lovely and attentive. I’m not a great flyer but they made me feel quite relaxed. The flight was short, only an hour and five minutes but they still managed to serve us an in flight meal which was not at all bad; a meat roll, fruit, cup of tea etc.,
Arrival at Phnom Penh airport went much smoother that I could have thought. We managed to get some dollars from Bangkok airport so the immigration was quicker than Luang Prabang. It was more organised in any case. We filled in the little immigration document on board the plane, waited in line for them to check everything. They took our passports at one window and they were passed along for us to pay and collect. A line of officials all sitting down behind a long glass barrier. They worked like a conveyor belt handing the passports from one to the next until they arrived at the end of the line. It took less than five minutes I think. It was a big relief after the kerfuffle at Laos.
I had booked a taxi through Booking.com to collect us and I wasn’t too sure if it was going to work but. . . there by the exit was a man with a sign saying Ninette Hartley in bold letters. A miracle. The place was very busy but our driver helped us through arrivals and we were soon in an air conditioned car heading for the centre of Phnom Penh. Just to mention here that booking through booking.com meant that the car was paid for from my card and we didn’t have to mess about looking for cash. I think Geoff gave the driver a tip anyway.
I have absolutely no idea what I expected Phnom Penh to offer me. The drive from the airport took us through the suburbs and into the city. The landscape was very flat. No hills or mountains. The streets were busy with heavy traffic; the usual million mopeds carrying more than two people but at least they were wearing helmets this time. There were more shop fronts and fewer street sellers. The area of the city which is for the government and embassy buildings etc., had wide boulevard type roads with flower beds, grass and walkways. Most buildings sat behind attractive high walls and iron gates. It didn’t feel like a communist country, although what I expect that to be I’m not really sure.
A few shots of Phnom Penh. The Mekong River in the middle.
Our hotel entrance was just one door set in a high wall. There was a man in a wooden booth with glass windows checking to see who was entering . As we went through the door we were transported from a busy, street into a complete oasis. We had to walk past the swimming pool to get to the hotel lobby and it was just like walking through a clearing in the jungle. The hotel restaurant where breakfast could be taken was right beside this pool. What a delight it was. We upgraded to a bigger room, a suite in fact, as we were to have three nights at this lovely place and honestly, it was so cheap considering we were in a city. Later on the next day we would be very glad we had done this.
Photos of the Pavilion Hotel Phnom Penh
Our sitting room Our bedroom The Sun Pool The Lush Pool Our Balcony…to hot to sit out though
We decided to visit one of the 300 Killing Fields just outside the city, and S21-Tuol Sleng Prison in the city centre, on one morning. We knew it was going to be difficult and emotional and Geoff wasn’t sure I would be able to handle both on the same day but I agreed with him that it would be better this way. So we booked a taxi to take us out to Choeng Ek (The Killing Field closest to Phnom Penh), wait for us and then bring us back to S-21. He waited for us there too before returning us to our hotel.
I don’t know how much to write about our visit to the Killing Fields and S-21. I made a note in my journal and I’ll copy some of it here:
*CONTENT WARNING, the following might upset some readers.
I found it disturbing, unbelievable and very sad. Man’s inhumanity to man at its very worst. Cambodian against Cambodian. Awful. I was especially affected by ‘The Killing Tree’. This is the infamous tree where Khmer Rouge Soldiers smashed the heads of young infants and babies against the trunk, holding them by their legs, in front of their mothers, and then throwing them into the pit. The mothers, mostly naked, were killed and thrown in after them. This whole scenario is so appalling I found it hard to take in. It is beyond my comprehension how any person could behave in this way. In my journal I wrote: unbelievable, SAD , awful, horrid, terrifying, cruel, inhuman. Beyond anything I can imagine.
The Killing Tree
Above are some photographs of the Killing Fields
The S-21 prison was originally a school, three stories built around three sides of a square courtyard. I saw many schools after this as we drove through the towns on our way up to Siem Reap and every time I was reminded of the awful atrocities that happened in the converted school in Phnom Penh. The S-21 prison was a cruel, horrendous place. Torturing innocent people until they confessed to something that wasn’t true and then they were taken out and killed. At first with bullets but in the end they were beaten to death or hacked with machetes. Classrooms were prison cells and some classrooms were divided into many small cells by building brick walls creating small, cramped cells about 6’x 3′. Four years this continued. 1975 until 1979, when the Vietnamese came into Cambodia and beat the Khmer Rouge into surrender. Between 14,000 and 17,000 people went into this prison and only twelve are believed to have survived. One survivor was there at the prison, Bou Meng, there is a book about his experience and we bought it from him as he sat behind a table in the courtyard at Tuol Sleng. I did do some reading about the history of Cambodia and when we came back home last week we watched again the film The Killing Fields. This time I understood it all so much better. Those young (very young) boys who made up. the Khmer Rouge army really had no choice. Brainwashed and in fear of their own lives, I guess they did what they had to do. But some of them did it with relish I think. Others did not.
A few photographs from S-21 Prison. Top includes photographs of some prisoners.
Centre top includes John Dewhurst and Kerry Hamill
Bottom is from left: The memorial, Bour Meng’s book, The courtyard today.
There were so many photographs showing tortured, and dead bodies with many stories behind the pictures. You can only take so much. One story touched me particularly hard and I expect that was because of losing my son Tosh when he was 27. There were three young foreigners John Dewhurst and Kerry Hamill and Stuart Glass. They were on a boat off the coast of Cambodia when attacked by a Khmer Rouge gunboat. Stuart Glass was shot on the boat and the other two were taken to S-21 prison and were killed after being tortured. They were around the same age as Tosh when they died. I cannot begin to imagine what their parents went through. It’s a dreadful story. You can read more about their story hereand also a more detailed account of S-21.
I am sorry if this is not my usual kind of jolly blog but I felt I had to write about it even though it was not a good experience. We cannot hide from these things that have occurred in the world. They are complicated emotions that I feel; guilt, sadness, hopelessness, despair — but I’m not an activist and I am guilty of letting these things happen. I know it was something that Tosh felt strongly about, knowing these dreadful things are going on in the world but not actively doing anything about it. We are all guilty of standing back and letting things go by. I guess we fall back on, ‘what can I do about it?’
It was incredibly hot while we were there, 39 degrees for most of the time. When we got back to our hotel Geoff began to feel unwell. He’d lost his cap sometime during the morning and the heat obviously affected him. He was burning up although we’d not been ‘in the sun’ it was cloudy and the smoke was still hanging about. He just overheated rather dramatically. He went to bed and I kept putting wet flannels that I had cooled down in the freezer over his head. He slept for something like 17 hours and didn’t eat until breakfast the next day.
I swam in the pool and tried to take in all that we had seen, although it felt decadent and disrespectful to be just relaxing and doing nothing. We had paid our respects and I had thought deeply about the people and what happened from 1975-1979 in Cambodia.
The rest of the day I spent in our room. As I said at the beginning we’d upgraded to a suite so I was able to be in the sitting room while keeping and ear and eye on Geoff who was flat out in the bedroom. I read the book about Bou Meng. It was thought provoking and moving. I wondered how must it feel to be one of the only survivors out of thousands of prisoners. He survived because he was an artist and they were able to use him to paint portraits of prominent communist leaders and other posters for propaganda.
The next day, Geoff stayed out of the heat but I thought I should make the effort to go to the Royal Palace which was very close to our hotel. A very different experience from the day before. Such opulence, gold and comfort everywhere. I could only see 50% of the palace because it was the beginning of three days celebration for the Cambodian New Year and the king was practising something (sitting probably) in his throne room. In any case it was extremely boiling and I didn’t want to get struck down in the same way Geoff had. I went into the Silver Pagoda which is known as ‘The Temple of the Emerald-Crystal Buddha’ . No photographs allowed sadly. A few people were bowing and praying on the carpet below the buddha which was not that big but set high up on top of a gold plinth in the middle of the building. I walked around the grounds but for a very short time, always trying to keep in the shade. There was a model of Angkar Wat – we would be going there the next day. Finally I walked towards the exit where I found a magnificent model of king’s litter with soldiers and servants attending him. It was absolutely magnificent. Housed in an air conditioned room I spent some time there before walking back to our hotel.
My next post will be about Siem Reap and hopefully a jollier one. Cambodia is a beautiful country, we should not forget that and Phnom Penh must live with its history. Anyone over 50 is a little reluctant to talk about it.
As we came into land at Luang Prabang International Airport I was shocked at the amount of smoke in the air. I knew that the smoke was a problem in Thailand with the farmers burning their post-harvest stubble but had no idea it would be the same in Laos. The smoke was so thick you could barely see across the runway to the terminal building. I heard a few days later that they had shut the airport for one day that week because visibility was so low. You could smell the smoke in the air, I can’t find the words to describe it. All I can say is that it wasn’t pleasant and it took me back to the time when they burnt all the cattle in the UK because of foot and mouth disease — it’s clag-like and sticks in your nose and throat. Many people were wearing masks, and we did too, but I’m not sure it made any difference.
Airport at Luang Prabang smoke filled air. The smoke obscuring the view across the Mekong.
The smoke did not detract from the beauty of Luang Prabang, we only thought how much better it would be without it. We had a five-day stay and the smoke hung around for most of the time only lifting for the last two days, when we could actually see across the Mekong and enjoyed a lovely meal in a restaurant right beside the magnificent river.
DINNER BY THE MEKONG
There is no shortage of cafés, market stalls, street sellers etc., in Luang Prabang, in fact every road and every corner and every conceivable place where you could set up a stall, someone would be selling or cooking something. I quite enjoyed the night market, even though the evening we strolled through, the smoke was very bad. We walked around the town during the day and stopped for coffee a couple of times and shopped in a rather lovely boutique. We also visited the Lao Traditional Arts and Ethnography Centre where I learned a little about the different ethnic origins of the Lao people. While there I bought a necklace, a shopping bag and a mug (I’d broken my mug that I bought when travelling down to Phuket 🙁 so I had to replace it.)
NIGHT MARKET
One evening we went to the Lao Ballet. I didn’t fully understand the story but the costumes and the dancers were brilliant. The girls so elegant with beautiful hand movements. I was so glad to have seen it. The only problem was a gentleman in front of me who was videoing the whole thing on his iPad…I wanted to ask him why he didn’t just watch it on youtube! I took my photos at the end when invited to do so.
DANCERS – I didn’t get a photo of the girls’ beautiful hands! Here’s one I found on Pinterest
Move on to other images of Luang Prabang
CHECK OUT THE SLIDESHOW ABOVE – A PHOTO DUMP OF LUANG PRABANG. THERE’S EVEN ONE OF ME PRETENDING TO WRITE IN A CAFE. . .IT’S ACTUALLY SOMETHING I NEVER DO. I AM NOT A COFFEE SHOP WRITER.
We took a trip out in a taxi to the Kuang Si Waterfall. Our driver Seet ( that was how it was pronounced but not sure how it’s spelt) was very helpful pointing out various interesting places as we passed them. He asked if we wanted to stop at the tourist elephant spot to ride and feed the elephants but we declined because it wasn’t a sanctuary. Before actually reaching the waterfall we had to walk through a forest where there was a bear sanctuary. The bears were in huge enclosures with plenty of room to move around, play and relax. They seemed happy, which made me happy. Of course we both bought T-shirts and made a donation to the cause.
THE BEAR SANCTUARY
The waterfall was the best thing I’ve done in ages. We arrived early, so it wasn’t too crowded. I’d had the foresight to change into my swimming costume before I left the hotel – wise decision because changing back into dry clothes after I swam was difficult enough in the public toilets with soaking wet floors. I actually changed outside any cubicle. . . but back to the swim. I edged down the stone steps and sat for a minute with my legs dangling in the water. I couldn’t believe all the little fish swimming around my feet but they were harmless and it didn’t put me off taking the plunge. It was cold but not uncomfortably so. A few people were swimming and a couple of Lao women who swam close to me, indicated that I should jump up and down, so I did and we all laughed. I swam out to the waterfall and realised I was smiling the whole time. A wonderful feeling of wellbeing coursed through my body. That might sound over dramatic but the positive effect physically and mentally on me during that swim was something I will never forget.
Our driver and guide Clear water Hmm….should I go in? Jumping for Joy On my way back to the bank
OUR VISIT TO THE WATERFALL AND THE BEAR SANCTUARY
As we drove away from the waterfall there were an amazing number of white butterflies – it was beautiful. The photo below doesn’t really show how amazing it was. I did take a little video too but I don’t seem to be able to upload it onto here.
We stayed in Luang Prabang for three days and then took the high speed train down to Vientiane where we stayed for just one night before flying to Phnom Penh. The train station was out in the middle of nowhere and we were told to arrive at least an hour before departure as we had to show passports and go through security just like an airport. We were impressed with the train, which took just over two and a half hours to cover the 320 odd kilometres. Built in collaboration with the Chinese it took only four years to complete the stretch from Butan in China to Vientiane. The train was quiet, smooth and well ventilated. Cool inside even though the temperature outside was hovering around 38/39 degrees.
Entrance to Luang Prabang Station The departures/arrivals board at Luang Prabang Station Inside the train – lots of leg room! Crossing the Mekong on the Train Vientiane Station
TRAIN TRIP
Vientiane offered us nothing, particularly as I had booked a rubbish hotel five kilometres from the centre. The next morning when we took the taxi to the airport and drove through the city, we could see that we hadn’t missed much. However, Phnom Penh was to be a different story. You can read about that next time.
Ninette Hartley Writer 