Trotting the Globe

Dublin, Ireland – 12km around Merrion Square Par, St Stephens Green, ending at Trinity College.

Doolin, Ireland – 21km round trip to Lisdoonvarna and return.

Belfast, N. Ireland – 15km south along the river to forest and woodland areas.

Liverpool, England – 16km to Princess Park, including a few lap, and return.

London, England – 20km west along Thames out to Battersea Park and return.

Paris, France – 12km around Parc Des Buttes Chaumont and down to Bassin de la Villette canal. Hilly park in the ENE of Paris with fabulous views to Sacre Coeur. 30+ degrees.

Hamburg - St. Pauli to GroBe Wall-anlagen, along Gorch-Fock Wall Esplanade and around AuBenalster lake (6-7km), down Binnenalster. stop for lunch the back along Ludwig Erhard/Budapest Str. 75mins/16km.

Berlin - 18km around park south of main train station, around the zoo and further south to a small park set on a hill side which a did about three laps of and nearly died. friffin steep and streamy.

Prague - 55mins hard run to Stromovka Park. A few laps of this which included a hill and a stop at a cake shop on way back.

Vienna - Run in 35 degree temperature to the palace out west. Uncomfortably hot. Slept on a park bench and ran back to the hostel. Maybe only 50mins.

Sighisoara - 2h30m run and walk in the Oak Woods (Bietre Park). Run 2km to the cemetary at the back if Transylvania Hotel. Go right up to the very back of the cemetery and pass through the narrow gate. Head up the vague path to the plains and follow the trodden grass until you hit the gravel road. Follow this for maybe 4km until you reach the forest path (Wolf and Bear Crossing). Continue for unknown number of kilometres until your reach the swamp lands and eventually the end of the plains. Turned around. I only made it to the bear crossing as I was running out of water and the map distances seemed to be way off.

Bucharesti - Herastrau Park. 55min hard run around the scenic park. Very pleasant way to get away from the chaos of the city centre. Relief from the warm smothering sun too.

Dubrovnik - 

Is inbreeding a sport in this town?

Had taken the train south a few hours, dropped my bags off at the hotel (yes hotel, couldn’t find a hostel) and proceeded to walk into town. I only had the afternoon and evening to explore. Within meters of reaching the fringe of the town centre, the chain-smoking, hot chip eating, track-suit clad, barbaric locals nearly sent me on the next train out of there. There were feral, rough as guts. Welcome to Durham.

It was clear that the town was divided into the old-town (the cobble-stoned paths and historic sites that the tourists come to see) and the newer 20th century part where the inbreeding took place. Unfortunately my hotel was located on the wrong side of inbredville.

Once you cross the river into the old town, Durham becomes much more appealing. Perhaps a fear of flowing water is all that keeps the inbreds on the north side? I didn’t stop to ask them. The two major drawcards in Durham, other than seeing living Neanderthals, is Durham Cathedral and Durham Castle (now a university). Both have origins that date back to Roman time although the history of the castle is somewhat sketchy in places.

The castle tour involved the use of “may have”, “could have”, “possibly”, “unclear” and the like a hell of a lot. Somewhat detracts from the experience when many details are basically being made up but despite that it was kinda cool to be in the massive castle that reminded me of scenes from Harry Potter. Some of the construction was rather poor and not well thought out and consequently lead to parts collapsing and the shifting of foundations. Not good. As the castle is now being used as a university, much of it wasn’t open to the public. Bit annoying.

The cathedral was a cathedral. No photos were allowed inside – I can’t understand this and it really annoys me. Fine, no flashes, but no photos at all! Wtf. It was the same deal in the castle.

As a side note, for lunch I decided to try the supposed best fish and chip in town. It actually wasn’t too bad. The fish was well cooked, the chips were real chips. Whilst I was waiting in line to order, I was watching what everyone else got (mostly locals). I couldn’t really understand what they were saying. It appeared to be some local chippery short-hand language, with ordered received not corresponding with my guess at their order. The most popular order was not in fact fish and chips. I think the fish may have been too pricey. Most locals ordered a large serve of chips, asking for a large sprinkling of batter crumbs (am guessing this is the batter that falls off the fish when it is cooking) to be put on top of the chips and a bread roll to garnish. Carbs, carbs, and more carbs, drowned in oil. To this they then add a mass of salt and vinegar. It’s disgusting. I could only eat half the chip and had to take most of the batter off the fish, otherwise I would have died on the spot.

Durham Cathedral 

Inside Durham castle/college - no photos allowed beyond this point.

Entrance to castle

Streets of Durham old town

One of the bridges separating the natives from the tourists

The castle at night

Cathedral

What does a Polish girl, an Italian girl, a Frenchman and an Australian have in common?

….an inability to find a pub open after midnight in Edinburgh!

Edinburgh is a very cool city. Liked it. Beautiful buildings, steeped in history and surprisingly quite multicultural. It’s a great place to just walk around with its cobbled stone paths, vibrant atmosphere and attractive women (think they may have all been foreigners). And the food is so much better than in the north of England! It seems to be a fairly affluent city with plenty of boutique shops, nice cars and houses, well dressed locals etc, an element of refinement that was missing from some of the other UK cities I’d been to up until then.

As expected, the weather wasn’t exactly conducive to seeing sites. Misty rain constantly rolling through. June had been the wettest on record in Edinburgh! No wonder all the old historical buildings and churches are blanketed with green moss and damp stains, adding to the charm in some ways. Invariably the sights that I visited the most were the inside of pubs…..managed to find some very good ones too (thanks Pat). Couldn’t for the life of me find the Edinburgh Museum so went to an old pub with only local patrons out of the city centre and got a first-hand education on daily life in Edinburgh anyway.

The ritual seems to go something as follows....knock off work at 5pm, head straight to the local pub. Before you have sat down the waitress has almost finished pouring your beer, not that you have even ordered one yet. You drink the first half of the pint fairly quickly and go out for fag. Come back in and finish the beer, having ordered the next one when you returned to the bar after the fag. Repeat above at least 3-4 times. Return the following day. And that is kind of what I did for three days...except for the smoking.

View from top of Arthur's Seat of the cathedral and castle and Royal Mile 

Royal Mile

Hiking in the Lake District

Well I cant say I did much hiking as the day I got there I caught yet another cold....not sure I'd recovered fully from the last one. Woke up feeling rather shite the first day. I'd planned two long and rather strenuous hikes through what I later discovered to be quite trecherous trails. The mountains (or large hills) were covered in clouds making traversing the peaks and ridge lines quite dangerous if the fog doesn't lift or winds pick up. 

With barely any energy to do anything I decided I had to do something to work off the ciders and cumberland sausages from the night before at The Travellers Rest Hotel (two thumbs up) in Glenridding. 

It was only a 1hr loop up to a nearby hill for a view over the lake. Still quite pleasant. The lady at the info desk suggested that I could manage without a map/route notes...like hell. It is so confusing. There are paths going everywhere. Very easy to take a wrong turn! You can lose a lot of time which can be costly if you are trying to beat some bad weather coming in. Finished the walk at the pub watching the tennis and chatting to some local lads who knew everything about Home and Away and Neighbours, as most English folk seem to. Disturbing.

Dinner at the hostel was always a risk but given they advertise themselves as a cafe throughout the day I thought I would give it a try. Big mistake. Worst meal so far. Why bother cooking rubbish. Its embarrassing. (Ann, will try to be more positive but honestly...)

Was hoping to wake up the following morning feeling considerably better (wasn't the case). Got some more drugs from the store 20mins walk away, hoping they would deal with my headache and congestion (which they did partially). 

Caught the ferry (steamer) up the lake to Howtown (about 45mins) and intended to walk back around the lake to Patterdale where I was staying (undisclosed distance but around 3hrs). The Lake District is stunning. It's mood changes constantly as the clouds and rain roll through, broken up by patches of warm sunshine. 

The walking notes I'd bought that morning in anticipation of getting lost were invaluable. Although after getting off the steamer I climbed to the top of the nearby hill taking any path that led up to the top, passing sheep that sat on the pathway threatening to ram my arse back down the hill, and a lamb's corpse which was in the vicinity of a large group of crows. Ominous. Really don't like crows. They are evil and always conjure up images from Steven King's movie the The Stand which freaked me out years ago.

At the top was a cracking view awaiting. Despite only a 15-20min climb I was already farked. Blaming the cold and poor nutritional value of those sausages last night. In the distance a line of yachts could be seen, waiting for the 11am horn to commence the race. There was barely a breathe of wind. At 11:15am they had hardly moved. A couple who'd been sat up there for 30mins left. They got fed up waiting for the start. Little did they know the race was actually underway!

Camped out up there for a bit but not too long as wanted to get back in time for the Gentlemen' final and the F1s. Made my way back down, unsure what side path I needed to take to get me back on to the lakeside trail. Evidently I missed it and went too far. And then crack, rolled the ankle. Scared the hell of out of me. The sound wasn't too good either. Braced myself for the pain...which didn't eventuate. Took a reluctant step. Didn't collapse. A good sign. Decided to gingerly proceed as hadn't really seen any of the area yet. 

Around 45mins after rolling the ankle, the nose started to bleed profusely. Not a good look passing other walkers holding a tissue saturated in blood. No questions asked.

After some time I passed a couple I'd given some directions to at the start of the walk. They were guessing their way, successfully up until then. The path afforded some great views of the lake. Tried to rescue lamb that had been separated from its' mother. Geez they are stupid creatures. Can't recall how many times it tried to head butt its way through the wire fence, seeking the larger gap further along where the creek flowed through.

Finished the walk in time to see the second half of the F1 race at the Patterdale Hotel. Further discussion that night at the pub with the local lads about Aussie movies and TV series. They have far too much time on their hands and spend way too much time in the pub. There really isn't much else to do at night I guess. Many of them don't realise it but they are effectively alcoholics. I limped back to the hostel that night, the booze not really easing the pain.

Leg of lamb

Manchester and Liverpool elite competing in a yacht race on the lake.

Patterdale (all of it)

Traveller's Rest in Glenridding, 20 minutes walk from Patterdale. The NW England version of a gastro-pub. Recommend the Cumberland sausages.

Chester the Molester

Chester is only 45 minutes out of Liverpool by train and was possibly the centre of the Roman empire in the north of England. It was founded in AD 79 but has undergone many face-lifts over the centuries following the Norman conquest in AD 1066. The word Chester itself means 'fort'. Surprisingly the town used to be a port city, however river levels have subsided such that this is no longer the case (global warming???). Many of the remaining buildings have either Victorian, Georgian or Tudor facades.

It was nice to get out of Liverpool which didn't seem to have much to offer a tourist, especially when the weather was shite, other than expensive and tacky Beatles tours (which I didn't do!). Plus I couldn't understand word any of them (Liverpoolians) were saying.

Arrived in Chester mid morning, walked from the station through the botanic gardens to the river which the fortified part of town resides next to. After entering the walled city, I was in desperate need of food...was feeling faint. Found a homely looking place, The Three Kings, displaying apple and raspberry pie in the window. Sold! BEST PIE EVER!!! Exactly how I like it. It was a promising start, a far cry better than some of the shite food I had in Liverpool.

River Dee in Chester

Home of the apple and raspberry pie.

Walked around some of the wall and the main streets in town. Full of buskers and a generally good vibe. The sun was out so everyone was extra churpy. I'd read about a pub selling good food out of the touristy part of town. With the help of the GPS I found it....cumberland sausages and mash. Winner again. I was liking Chester very quickly.

The Old Harkers Arms for lunch

Without doing a tour or reading up on the history of Chester, it was hard to get a feel for it. At 2pm there was a tour leaving the Town Hall. Turns out it was a Taste of Chester tour. I was too full to eat much more. Thankfully the other couple doing the tour were also more interested in history, so we forewent some of the taste testing in lieu of historical facts. We covered a lot of the ground I had earlier in the day, but it was amazing how much I'd missed. We sampled ice-cream (not really a local produce but I didn't mention that but this oversight was more than made up by the Spanish waitress who had very nice ice-creams), Chester cheese (not a fan, the smoked blue was ok but otherwise a bit bland) and the final stop was for a local Chester cake at a cafe down near the river. This cafe was on the same street as the one I'd been too that morning. I asked our guide Patricia which side of the street. Sure enough it was the same place. So back to The Three Kings for Chester tea cake...and another piece of pie. Rolled out.

Chester Cathedral

Didn't get to try this place unfortunately.

The couple who did the tour with me, Steve and June, were from Hong Kong. Steve had just retired after 34 years at Baker & McKenzie. Nice couple, invited me to dinner in Hong Kong when I'm there.

And if you are wondering why this post is called Chester the Molester...well whenever I hear the name Chester I think of a song by Sloan called Chester the Molester.

5th July, 2012

Black Cab Taxi Tour, Belfast

One of the best tours you can possibly do in Belfast, not that there are many. There are basically two, Giant's Causeway, a day trip up north.... and this. 

Harry was our driver / tour guide. Aged about 64 years. Grew up in West Belfast, the "troubled" area. He was 14 y/o when the cease-fire occurred in 1962 and 21 during the riots of 1969. I wont begin to try and explain the history of the catholic and protestant conflict (which in saying that over-simplifies it greatly as there is a complicated political aspect to it as well in more recent times) as it started over 400 years ago. See wikipedia instead.... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Troubles

Black Cab Taxi Tours commenced in the late 90's when an Australian guy asked a cab driver to take him through West Belfast to show him the sites following the then recent (and second) ceasefire between the IRA and the Protestants / British. This sparked a business idea and around 14 taxi drivers of the time, living in West Belfast, commenced tours of the area. Harry is one of six remaining original Black Cab Taxi Tour drivers.

Surprisingly, the walled area of West Belfast is only metres from the city centre I was walking the day before. The massive walls separating the Catholics and Protestants still exist and are in use today. There are numerous gates that open and close in the morning and evening automatically, separating the areas. The houses around Bombay Street (which was burnt to the ground in 1969) still has caged backyards to prevent bombs being thrown directly into the houses. There is still a slightly eerie feel about the place. Only last week a bomb went off and last night in East Belfast there was apparently a little trouble motivated by religion. 

It is still very raw and flare-ups continue to arise. Harry was nonetheless very optimistic about the future. Progress made in the last few years has convinced him that the walls will eventually come down (some drivers say they never will). He is predicting in around 20 years (down from 35 years a few years ago), so perhaps not his life time.

A few snaps from the tour, including Sinn Fein (the Provisional IRA's political headquarters), the mural wall, murals on houses and masses of pallets waiting to be burned on the 12th of July to remember The Battle of Boyne in 1690 (the battle between the Catholic King James and the Protestant King William, which William obviously won).

One part of the wall only a few hundred metres from the city centre.

One of the political prisoners who refused to wear prison clothing. On the side of Sinn Fein, the IRA's political headquarters.

Plaque on the front of Sinn Fein 

  

Plaque on the front of Sinn Fein

The following are photos of the various murals on the famous mural wall (which change from time to time).

Bombay Street mural and memorial (note the huge fence in the background - about 60 feet high).

Bombay street, bordering the fence line.

Pallets being stacked in preparation for the 12th of July celebrations. There are many of these throughout the city - all will be burned. Think I've found thousands of Bramble's lost pallets (the blue ones)!

A well known picture of a UFF Member - similar to the Mona Lisa, the rifle seems to follow you as you walk past it.

After the tour had finished, on the way back, Harry was asking me where in Australia I lived. He asked whether I had heard of George Neegus? I said yes and that he lived in the same suburb. Anyway, two years ago a film crew from Australia came to Belfast and called Harry up and asked whether they could hire him out for three days. He agreed and turns out George was a top bloke. So next time I see George, I have been told to ask him whether he remembers Harry from Belfast.

1st July, 2012