397: Krasnodar - a quick in and out

After my few days in Istanbul I flew from there to Krasnodar in Southern Russia. Neither Turkey nor Russia concern themselves overmuch with night flights bothering the populace so my flights in and out of Russia were in the middle of the night. I sneaked up on them as it were. Except that you can't sneak up on Russia as you have to apply for a visa beforehand and give them most of your life history. So as soon as you land they know all about you........

I went to Krasnodar to visit an old friend of mine, an English guy who had been teaching English out there. He's really quite ill so I thought a morale-boosting visit from me would be appreciated. And so it turned out. 

One of the first things I wanted to do was change my left-over Turkish Lira into Roubles. I tried all over town but to no avail. The banks in Krasnodar are interested in buying and selling US Dollars or Euros. Nothing else. Not even the once noble Sterling. After I'd tried a few banks I began to lose my temper and called them a Third World country. Well, they might, or might not, be a Third World country but calling the bank staff names wasn't going to change the price of bread. I realized I had gone too far and took the rest of the day off to allow my mood-meter to swing back to its more usual happy(-ish) position. The next day was a different day entirely and I notched up a major success with the Unicredit bank. I had left a little bit of money in there when I left Moscow a few years ago. Then I lost my bank card and from that moment on I had no way of getting at my money from abroad, try as I might. So it was very nice, last Friday, to walk out of the bank with my £150. No great sum, I know, but my sense of achievement knew no bounds. The piece of paper that we filled in to get at the money was signed in several places by me, then by their 'expert', then by their 'senior expert' and then by their cashier. If you want to know about bureaucracy go visit a Russian bank. But not the one shown here. It is defunct. It is no more. The sign says "Attention:the bank doesn't work (closed)" The inference being, closed for ever. This is Russia - banks come and banks go.

Flushed with success, I made my way to the nearest cake shop (пекарня) which happened to be called, somewhat intriguingly, "Patrick and Mary". Here, as well as nice coffee and cake, there was a glass for tips which had a cardboard sign sticking out of it emblazoned with "for our smiles". Surprisingly (?), the glass was empty of coins. I put a couple of coins in out of gratitude for my irony fix. It is possible to make Russian people smile but it is not always easy to do.

I stayed in a cheap (and cheerful) guest house because I hadn't wanted to spend too much money in case my visa was refused. It was strange. There was no dining room so breakfast, such as it was, was brought to your room because there was no dining room.  All part of life's rich tapestry! Please excuse the partial thumb print on the photo!

Today's video clip has to be "back to the USSR"

396: Do the hustle (Turkish delights). Alternative title: round the horn.

I fell for it - the oldest trick in the book. There was I, earlier this week, walking over Galata bridge in Istanbul, minding my own business, when suddenly I heard something drop to the floor. I turned to look and it was a shoe brush, which had fallen (did it fall or was it pushed?) from the shoe clean boy's kit. Being the gullible soul that I (sometimes) am, I picked it up and called to him. He thanked me profusely and then, somehow, the very next second he was halfway through cleaning my shoes! I was left with no choice but to pay him for the unasked for service. The shoes did look nice I must say, but not for long as it was a wet, dreich, kind of day with lots of puddles everywhere. 

From there I went down to the lower level of the bridge and ordered some lunch from one of the fish restaurants there. You can't visit Istanbul without eating at a fish restaurant on Galata bridge. There are probably 10-20 restaurants on the bridge and they all have hustlers outside inviting you to come inside and try their wares because theirs is the tastiest and the best value. It is the same walking around the restaurants just off Taksim Square - they all seem to have a man standing outside whose only job is to help you part with your money by eating in their august establishment. They have my every sympathy - this time of the year it is rather cold standing outside trying to drum up business, especially in the evenings - they were wrapped up to the nines. 

The map shows Istanbul with the Sea of Marmara to the South (which then leads, past Galipoli and through the Dardanelles, to the Med), the Bosphorus snaking off to the North East to the Black Sea and the Golden Horn to the North West. I took the almost obligatory boat trip on the Bosphorus. Of course, once I got back, everywhere I looked had cheaper prices than I had just paid. That's life.

Istanbul then - rip-off city. But for all its faults I like it very much. The gateway between Europe and Asia. This was my third visit and I may well go back again. 

hot chestnut sellers (the chestnuts were hot, not the sellers)	This pulley was at the top of the funicular up to Taksim

Two video clips today - how could I not? Pan's People dancing to Van McCoy doing the hustle in 1975 and 'Round the Horne' from some time in the 60s!

395: Late? or early?

One of the great joys of being (semi-)retired, and living on my own for most of the time, is that I can do things on a whim. Yesterday's 'whim' wasn't altogether successful when I stood waiting for a bus at two different bus stop and saw the buses go whizzing past without stopping. I was not impressed at the time but, hey, no big deal. Eventually I ended up in Tarragona and the day managed to put itself back on an even keel.
Today's 'whim' involved a short trip to Reus, a lovely old town 15 minutes away by bus. This time I was standing at the right bus stop at the right time and the right bus stopped. Marvellous! Once I got to Reus I decided to wander around some streets I hadn't visited before. I took pictures of the following unusual, for me at any rate, sights:
  

Evidently Santa is still doing his rounds. Unless he's very early for next year...

A shop window display. These bears were all moving

A log with clothes and a face. The basket between its legs contained small packets of food.

For a video clip I thought of Donovan's 1960's hit: "sunshine came softly through my window today" - because it did! Roll on Spring!

394: Fetch me my crampons

This morning I decided it was time for my last walk of 2017 up to Ben Bhraggie (397 metres above sea level). It was really misty in the village of Golspie but I very soon climbed out of the mist into a bright, sunny but cold, Winter's day.

There were some lovely views because of the bright day. What looks like cloud that has fallen out of the sky is actually mist that has rolled in from the sea. It was blanketing the village but as I climbed it moved off to the North. Conditions underfoot ranged from 'normal' to muddy, to icy, to snowy.  I decided to return by the longer path round behind the monument. There was still ice in places but the path is less steep. Endomondo suggests I had completed 5.5 miles (8 km) before I returned home, tired out and more than ready for some lunch. I only fell once, when I got back to a tarmacked road and there was some sheet ice on it.  Oh, sheet, I said, as I fell. No permanent damage done.

Today's video has to be "Mull of Kintyre" with "mist rolling in from the sea"

393: Auld Reekie

Edinburgh, the capital city of Scotland, is known by a number of nicknames and colloquial names. It is commonly known as "Auld Reekie", a name thought to originate from a distinctive mix of sewage stench and smoke/smog in the Old Town of Edinburgh.

I'm here for a couple of days to apply for a visa to allow me to visit my old friend Bob McGarry, who lives in Krasnodar in the South of Russia. I've paid an absolute arm and a leg for express processing of the visa and I will know within the next two hours whether I have been successful or not. If I am denied the visa, for any reason, then the cost of applying for the visa, the cost of the flights, and the cost of the hotel will all go down the tubes. All my fingers are crossed for a successful outcome.

In between submitting the paperwork and collecting my passport, hopefully with a visa in it, we have had quite some time to explore Edinburgh. Yesterday we 'did' Princes Street and I was able to collect my pre-ordered Turkish Lira as I plan to visit Istanbul on the way to Russia. In the evening we enjoyed some tacos and tequila in a Mexican restaurant, Diablo Loco, which we chanced upon on our way back to the guest house. The old adage that you get what you pay for became evident when I took a shower this morning in the guest house where we had decided to lay our heads for the two nights. It was one of those cubicle things and when I tried to slide the door closed it fell off! I duly reported it and, to their credit, it has been fixed. I must try and be a bit more gentle with it tomorrow. Breakfast was advertised as 0800-1000 Alisdair and I turned up for 8 o'clock and the waitress/hostess/person i/c breakfast turned up at about 8.30. By which time we had helped ourselves to cereal and toast. She very quickly prepared bacon and eggs for those fat boys amongst us.  

Today, despite the bitterly cold wind, we had a wander around Arthur's Seat. I was amazed by the number of people, walkers and runners of all ages and both sexes, who were on the hills, blowing away the cobwebs from the Christmas excesses.  (question to self: are there still only 2 sexes theses days or have a couple more crept in?).

A couple of pictures, to prove we were there. 

Waverley station, from above
Swan Lake	I'll drink anything!

STOP PRESS: Visa granted. Krasnodar here we come...

392: Montblanc

Yesterday I went to Mont Blanc. Not THE Mont Blanc in the Alps but Montblanc, Tarragona, 30 minutes from Reus by train, Reus being 20 minutes from Salou by bus. It is a medieval walled town. I only had a couple of hours there between trains but that was enough to get an impression of the place and some nice, warming, soup in a local hostelry "Quatre Taules" or, translated from the Catalan to English, "Four tables". The day was cold and windy and I hadn't really dressed well enough - serves me right!

A few political observations on the way back to the station: Power to the People and Free the Political Prisoners (probably incarcerated on sedition charges after the recent Unilateral Declaration of Independence ).

 A few days earlier I had spent some time in Reus.It's a lovely town. I passed the church named after John the Baptist. I first read it as Joan (of Arc) but then looked more closely at the depiction. Then a wander around the market where somebody has been busy arranging various scenes at one of the unused stalls.

To finish, since it is December, and I need to start getting into the Christmas mood, here is the one-hit wonder from Jona Lewie. I never start thinking about Christmas until I've heard this.

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391: From Z to A

I've spent much of my life doing things differently from other people.My latest jaunt was no exception. Instead of A to Z, I decided on Z to A. Last Thursday I travelled to Zaragoza, in the Aragon region of Spain, and on Saturday I went from there to Andorra, the tiny principality in the Pyrenees between France and Spain. Don't ask me to decide which I liked best - I liked them both, for different reasons. The journey from Barcelona to Zaragoza passed without incident, whizzing through the Spanish countryside at 300 kph on one of their AVE high-speed trains. A different, more undulating, landscape than on my usual Barcelona to Salou run alongside the Mediterranean. 

A very nice hotel in Zaragoza. It was called hotel Goya and indeed there are references everywhere in the city to the famous artist. Franciso Goya (1746-1828). 

In the evening what better to do than enjoy some tapas sitting outside in the Plaza d'Espana. It was my first (and probably my last) time of eating fried green peppers and I found it to be a bit like Russian roulette. You either got a hot and spicy one to make the taste buds tingle or a non-fiery version that simply made you wonder what you were eating.

On Friday morning I enjoyed a wander around the Goya museum. I finally found a benefit of being of such mature years - old buggers like me are allowed in free. The lady in charge of issuing tickets asked to see my passport but when I said it was in the hotel room she asked for the year of my birth. Thankfully I can still remember such trivia. Anyway, the museum was interesting and it included an audio-visual presentation which I found so interesting I watched it run through twice. In the afternoon I bought a couple of tram tickets and watched the city unfolding through the window of the tram. On Friday evening I couldn't make up my mind where to eat. By the time I finally found somewhere I was ready for a G&T. It was, however, a surprise to get it in a bath-sized glass. Needless to say I managed OK.

The  very next day I travelled from Zaragoza to Andorra. This time not without incident. I left Zaragoza on the 7.42 express to Lleida, missing the hotel breakfast in the process (in Spain, almost without exception, hotel breakfasts start at 8.00 on the weekend. For a lark like me that's almost lunchtime).  Arriving at Lleida I started asking people where I could catch the bus to Andorra. It seemed that the more people I asked the more answers I got. I was dashing hither and thither as according to Google maps, there were only a few minutes until the bus was due to depart. Finally I found somebody who knew the correct answer and he pointed out a tiny label stuck on a bus stop almost right next to the station. The label said the bus left at 10.15 but didn't say which days of the week. Would it run on a Saturday or not. Time then to go back to the station buffet, to relax, and to get outside a bacon butty. Shortly before the appointed hour a mercedes van appeared and whisked us off to Andorra. There was a Spanish woman sitting behind me and she chatted with the driver almost non-stop. My somewhat limited experience of Spanish people is that they can certainly talk. 

In Andorra, on Saturday afternoon and evening, it was tipping it down with rain. Hardly surprising since it is hemmed in by mountains. Sunday was much nicer and the sun was shining. They did say they were expecting snow on Sunday evening but by then I was on the way home. Andorra reminded me of Ambleside in the Lake District. Surrounded by beautiful scenery but thousands of tourists milling about from shop to shop. 

I've waffled enough. Let some pictures do the talking.

Zaragoza

	It doesn't look so big in the photo but I thought he was going to pour the whole bottle of gin in!

 Andorra in the rain

Andorra in the dry