Category: Blog

Lisbon

Lisbon, Portugal,
October 2025.

Yay, a new country! It’s the second time in a little over year that I’ve visited a country I’ve not been to before. Norway last year and now Portugal. New countries haven’t happened much in quite some time, so two in a short period is quite some thin, and I’ve long wanted to go to Portugal. This is the perfect time of year to visit too; summer is done and the temperature is a mere 28 degrees, significantly more than the single digit days we had in Oslo. We flew TAP Portugal direct from Oslo arriving in Lisbon late in the evening, but time enough for a glass of wine in the street bar outside of our hotel.

Lisbon is a fabulous city to walk around, though I imagine many would dispute that as it is hilly, but I like hills and I like cobbled streets and old buildings, and central Lisbon has those things in abundance. We had some vague plans for things to do here, and there certainly is a lot to do, but we spent a lot of time wandering about so barely touched the to-do list. We will just have to come back.

We were blessed with weather, depending on your position on temperature it was either just right or too hot; for me it was something between the too, and we had sun for most of our visit. Admittedly, we had one quite wet morning where walking was not so practical, but there is also great food and delicious (cheap) red wine, so all was not lost.

There was a tragic incident in Lisbon in September of this year when a cable pulling one of the many famous funicular’s that ride up and down the hills snapped causing the funicular to crash, sadly taking 17 lives. All the funiculars are closed while the investigation continues. This also impacted the famous Santa Justa Lift which opened in 1902, at least the lift is still posing for photographs.

We had four nights, two on our own and two with friends who joined us from London. The same friends we travelled with last year. This sort of explains the odd choice of a joint Norway and Lisbon holiday, I mean you can’t really get two places further apart in Europe. We’d agreed to a Lisbon city break with Deborah and John after our Berlin/Stockholm/Oslo trip last year, but then the Patti Smith concert in Oslo came up so we decided to combine the two trips.

I took a lot of photos;

Twisty, steep and cobbly streets, with slight decaying and mildly decrepit buildings. I mean, there is very little that is more perfect!

We visited LX Factory on the rainy day, catching an Uber there as Eleanor had rolled an ankle and was taking walking a little easy, which fortunately did the trick. There is plenty of street art on the buildings in this little gallery/hipster shopping area in old industrial complex. There was also an amazing book and jazz specialist record shop which I poked my nose into but avoided getting in too deap.

We also visited Carmo Archaeological Museum, which is housed in the ruins of abbey and church that was destroyed in the 1755 earthquake that levelled large parts of Lisbon. It’s fantastic!

On our final evening, we planned to take the famous number 28 tram on its loop around the outer central city, but the route was disrupted with road works and there was a massive queue, so we took the number 12 for a few stops instead. It was still a great trip. We then walked up more cobbly, steep and narrow streets to the local fish restaurant Garum; which was frankly amazing.

I can’t wait to return and explore more!

Oslo

Norway
October 2025.

This whole mad Bergen, Oslo and Lisbon trip (I mean who does Norway and Portugal in the same trip with nothing in between) came about because Eleanor and I have talked about going to a concert in a different country for quite some time. I saw Patti Smith was touring the 50th anniversary of her classic debut LP “Horses”, and playing in Oslo, and decided that now was the time.

So here we are in Oslo, arriving mid-afternoon yesterday. We’re staying in a nice downtown hotel, not far from the Munch Museum; which we visited the last time we came. The hotel is nice, but the breakfast was OMG good.

It’s cold and sunny and a good day to be walking 40 minutes up the Akerselva River from where it ends in the harbour near our hotel to Grunerlokka and the Mathallen food hall. We ate in the food hall last time we were in Oslo. It’s a bit like London’s Shoreditch 10 years ago, but all squashed into one small block; loads of graffiti and bars and cafes.

What we seemed to have missed last time was Nedre Foss. A small, but quite powerful waterfall just behind the back of the food hall. It was a lovely bonus to a nice riverside walk.

It was late morning when we left the hotel and we had intended on lunching though had arrived far too early to eat, especially after a large breakfast in the hotel. The walk was shorter than I had planned and though we carried on past the waterfall it seemed that being hungry again would be quite a way off.

The river is a similar size to central London’s Regents Canal, though fast running and seemingly cleaner. There are more trees and grass on the riverbank than the canal, but it was equally popular with walkers and runners.

That night we went to the Patti Smith concert that brought us here in the first place. The concert was great, though too packed for my liking, Patti was in fine voice and the band was fantastic. I’ve not seen her perform before.

The following day we spent some time in the National Museum of Oslo, which we also thoroughly enjoyed, though it’s very modern art gallery rather than national museum. The building itself is a fine piece of modern art, and it had a version of Edvard Munch’s ‘Scream’, without the crowds of the Munch Museum. 

Yesterday we late-lunched in this fabulous vegan café in one of the inner city residential areas.  The food was very nice and we ended up talking to the owner about life in Oslo, he’d lived in the UK in the past so had some interesting perspectives, in a good way. One thing he said stuck with me ‘Norway is a trust based country’, admittedly we were mainly talking about tax, but the concept was on display in the basement of the museum. The cloakroom was just out in the open and there are dozens of coats just hanging there unguarded. I like it.

Oslo is a nice city to wander about, though very crowded on a sunny late autumn day. I found a bit of local brutalist architecture. It’s not the most exciting piece I will admit, but this holiday is not about brutalist buildings!

Soon enough it was time to head out to Oslo airport for a late afternoon flight to Lisbon. As we did last time, we enjoyed Oslo.

The Bergen to Oslo train

Norway,
October 2025.
We’d read about this train journey numerous times over the past couple of years, and it’s supposedly one of the most scenic train journeys in Europe, or the world, depending on the reach of whoever published the article. It would be wrong of me to disagree; it was indeed very scenic. Sublimely so in fact.

My only quibble is that we should have done Oslo to Bergen rather than Bergen to Oslo. Future articles should specifically note that this would be the most dramatic way to do the trip, if scenic drama is your thing, which it very much is for me, but seemingly not for most of our carriage mates.
It’s seven hours from Bergen on Norway’s west coast to Oslo on the east and the train crosses the mountainous spine of this very empty country. Just before we left London, I’d foolishly conducted some online ‘research’ into the journey, mainly via Reddit threads, and among the positive comments there were many less flattering; primarily about the lack of a food car, uncomfortable seats and no phone charging points and the lateness, my God, the lateness, so many complaints. I’d not shared these with Eleanor as I didn’t want her to think that I’d made a mistake booking this. Seven hours is a long time if the conditions are sub-optimal (my new favourite word at work). I’m glad I didn’t as these were all none of those things were true.
The train left Bergen station on time at 8:08, surprisingly as the inbound journey was late, it was also full which I didn’t expect as it’s off season and it’s easier and cheaper to fly that sort of distance. I guess there are still plenty of tourists about; not that you would have known as pretty much everyone else in our carriage of about 30 spent most the journey sleeping, playing games on their phones, reading books, and my personal favourite; knitting. Admittedly the knitters were obviously from Bergen and have probably done this journey a few times. Still, I would have looked out the window; which I did, for most of the journey.

We were blessed with a nice day, it was cold but sunny when we left Bergen, via a long tunnel which was a bit deflating as I expected amazing views. I didn’t have to wait too long before we were winding our way up through the lower reaches of fjord-side mountains, we passed through so many short tunnels it was hard to take pictures of the glorious, rugged country out of the train window. Autumn was such a good choice for this journey, the trees were turning red and gold and the mountain tops had a fine dusting of snow, we really did have it all to see.

90 minus(ish) after leaving Bergen the train was slowly passing through the treeline, past frosty farms, fast flowing streams and massive rocky mist draped bluffs with water pouring off the top. It was all very Norwegian. This was what I was here to see.

Soon enough we were in ski-field country, barren other than scattered ski lodges, and a convenient train station (next time), the mountains were spectacular, and I don’t really have the words to describe the mountain top lakes…

It was almost an anti-climax as we descended down the spine into central southern Norway. We passed numerous stunning lakes, all surrounded by autumn trees, it was just so beautiful, and it was like this for hours, only changing to ‘just’ lovely countryside as we approached the towns that fringe Oslo.

We arrived on time; all the keyboard naysayers were proven wrong.


It was a stunning journey, the drama is all at the start, not that the second half was a let-down at all, but WHEN we do this again; stopping in the mountains for a night on the way, I would want to do it in reverse. Oslo to Bergen and save the best bits to the end. Delayed gratification and all that.

Bergen, Norway

Bergen, Norway
October 2025.

This was our first visit to Bergen, and hopefully it will not be our last. There are so many places on my ‘must visit’ list it seems such a shame to add repeats, but we loved the one full day we spent in Bergen and I’m keen to repeat the train journey that comes next, though in reverse, so we end rather than start in this nice little city.

We arrived late last night, and even though our journey from plane door to the terminal exit was a remarkable ten minutes; made even more impressive as neither of us have EU passports, it was still midnight when we arrived in the central city hotel we’d booked.

Bergen is a small, narrow city, surrounded by large hills on three sides and a fjord on the fourth. It was sunny when we there, which made it all rather beautiful, especially with the autumnal trees on the hills. The old town’s old buildings make it all very ‘cute’. If a city could ever be cute then Bergen is it.

We started our day late and mostly missed the hotel breakfast, which ended remarkably early, don’t stay in business hotels if you want a lie in was the learned lesson. After a rushed half breakfast we went for a mostly aimless walk around the town, making sure we took in the famous port-side Bryggen and its lovely 18th century wooden buildings; old port buildings and homes, now shops and galleries and, as we discovered, at least one very good coffee shop.

After coffee we caught the funicular up the hill to Floyen, we bought a one-way ticket with a plan to walk back down again, one of the best decisions we made on the holiday; and we made some good decisions. The view from the top, over the city and out into the fjord was pretty spectacular. There are also goats and these were very popular with the tourists, I will say that this included me.

However, the walk back down the meandering footpath was stunning; the trees and the light and the wild range of green, it was a lot to take in, and it was beautiful and if the 3km walk had been twice as long it still would been too short. I took a lot of photos, only some captured just how lovely the walk was.

We were snackish by the time we got down the hill and meandered through some steep and narrow cobbled streets, past the old wooden housesat the edge of town. This would have been the highlight if not for the forest walk. I love steep cobbled streets.

Obligatory David Bowie street art

After walking past a few uninspiring looking, extremely touristy, eating establishments I took to the internet and found a small café/bar – Jest, not too far from where we were standing and feeling peckish. Jest was fab. We had a nice lunch, the vibe was friendly, the music was just up our 80s indie alley, and the cocktails we had were superb. Lunch time cocktails are a good thing.

After lunch we walked around the city for another hour, telling ourselves we must come back.

Bergen is great!

Find a home in St Leonards

There’s nothing quite like lying in bed on a clear morning, coffee in hand, gazing out at the sea stretching past Bexhill and Eastbourne to Beachy Head. It’s one of those small luxuries that makes you feel ridiculously fortunate, and it’s been my reality for the past six years in Helena Court, St Leonards-on-Sea.

I bought a flat in Helena Court in 2018 after spending three years exploring England’s southern coast. St Leonards wasn’t love at first sight—on our initial drive through, we barely slowed down. But something drew me back, and when I returned for viewings in late September 2018, I discovered what I’d almost missed.

Mid-week, off-season, and the town was still buzzing with life. A brilliant wine bar (Graze—still there), proper coffee, and a brightly-painted wooden hut called Goat Ledge serving breakfast on the beach. I walked the streets for three days and felt something click. St Leonards has a creative, slightly bohemian energy that just works. It’s unpretentious, welcoming, and full of independent spirit.

Then I saw the apartment.

The Space
Walking into Helena Court for the first time, I climbed three flights of stairs and stepped into the flat and into this enormous, light-filled living room. The moment I crossed to the window and looked out over the rooftops to the sea, I knew. Immediately after sending some quickly take photos, I called my partner, Eleanor, probably babbling with enthusiasm.

The apartment is split-level, tucked into the roof of a beautiful Victorian building. Don’t let “roof conversion” fool you—the master bedroom is genuinely spacious with that jaw-dropping coastal view. The second bedroom easily functions as my home office, while still having room for a double bed and a built in wardrobe.

The living room is wonderfully oversized—a previous owner removed a wall from a third bedroom, creating this airy, light-drenched space. You could absolutely put the wall back and recreate that bedroom if you needed it, but I’ve loved having the openness. There’s room for multiple work-from-home setups (both Eleanor and I have worked here throughout the past few years) without ever feeling cramped.

The building shares access to a generous garden—perfect for summer gatherings. There’s also a bike locker. The neighbours are that ideal combination: friendly without being intrusive. A polite hello, the occasional garden drink, everyone looking out for each other.

The Location
Helena Court sits on Pevensey Road, in the quiet, leafy top end of town near the grand Victorian houses. Street parking is usually plentiful and free. You’re almost equidistant between West St Leonards and St Leonards Warrior Square stations—about ten minutes’ walk to either. The sea? Also, ten minutes on foot.

Everything falls within easy walking distance of home. The heart of St Leonards; the cafes, independent bars and small restaurants, sit between the station and the seafront.

Since Covid, the creative scene has grown stronger. Artists, makers, and people escaping London have put down roots here, and the town has blossomed with galleries, pop-ups, and that rare thing — genuinely independent businesses that reflect the variety of people who are part of this diverse community.

The most  dedicated swim here every day.

My pre-work ritual, when I’m working from here, is simple and perfect; walk down Pevensey Road, grab coffee from one of the Kings Road cafes, stroll to the seafront, find a bench, watch the water. Then the return climb up through St Leonards Gardens and its scruffy Victorian elegance. It certainly gets the blood moving before the work day begins. 

Longer seafront walks can be taken in either direction; 30 minutes east through the wonderful Bottle Alley lies Hastings with its vibrant old town. 

An hour walk west along the coast is Bexhill, and its 1930s modernist marvel, the De La Warr Pavilion, a perfect spot for a post walk lunch or an evening drink. There is so much choice here, east/west, maybe north, but definitely not south. That would put you in the sea.

Why I’m Selling (and Staying)
I’m approaching one of those life transitions— retirement age is looming in four years—and I’ve decided to downsize. But here’s the thing; I’m not leaving St Leonards. I love this town too much. I’m looking for something smaller, more manageable, but I’ll be staying right here.

This apartment has given Eleanor and me some of our happiest times. Those Covid lockdowns that felt so claustrophobic for many? We spent them here, living full-time on the coast, and it was glorious. Working near these windows with the sea in view, evening walks on empty beaches, then watching St Leonards come alive as others discovered what we already knew as lock down pressures relaxed.

It’s a genuinely special place, and my flat has been the perfect home base for this chapter of our lives.

If you’re curious about the details—room sizes, council tax, all that practical stuff—here’s the full listing.

But really, you should come see it. Stand at that window. Look out over the rooftops to the sea. Imagine your mornings here. That’s when you’ll know.

There are more photos on my Instagram, so, take a look and let me know what you think!

Lawn Road Flats – AKA The Isokon

London – Saturday 7 June 2025

The Isokon has been on my to-visit list for a while now, ever since I passed it on a walk in July 2023, and my memory of that walk has it much further in the past than just two years; thankfully I wrote a blog! Time is dilating, or expanding. Something like that.

Anyway, I had time to kill today and with the first heavy and persistent rain forecast in what feels like weeks (it’s that time dilatey/expandy thing again) I procrastinated for a while before heading out the door with a raincoat in my bag and fingers crossed I could get there and back without getting too wet. With great fortune the rain arrived just as I walked up the path to my front door. It was proper heavy too.

The Isokon flats are in Hampstead, on the other side on North London to where we live in Leytonstone. If the weather had been better I had planned on doing a longer walk, but even the 14,000 steps I did had me half crippled an hour after I got home. My hips are giving me quite a bit of gip lately, I’m trying to stretch them out after walks and each evening, but not much is working. It’s a bit (lot) frustrating as I like walking.

The Isokon flats were completed in 1934, designed by Wells Coates as Britain’s first modernist apartment building. The concrete block looks almost brutalist now, but was revolutionary then – minimal living spaces with built-in furniture, shared facilities, communal kitchen. It was very European, in both design and its concept of communal living and stood out in what was still a very conservative London. It was the first building domestic building in the UK to be made out of reinforced concrete. There is a lovely little free museum that is open for a few hours each summer weekend.

What makes it more fascinating though are the people who lived there. When the Nazis rose to power in Germany, the building became a refuge for fleeing intellectuals. Walter Gropius, founder of the Bauhaus school, lived there. So did Marcel Breuer, Henry Moore, and even Agatha Christie for a time.

During the war it housed refugees and became a centre of anti-Nazi activity. The building declined post-war but was beautifully restored in the 2000s. It’s now Grade I listed, finally getting the recognition it deserves as one of Britain’s most important modernist buildings, and it’s beautiful. I love the steps  🙂

The ground floor restaurant, the Isobar, was extraordinary meeting place where refugee designers and architects mixed with British intellectuals. It was also a hub of socialist and communist activity with Austrian Arnold Deutsch once a resident. Deutsch was a key Russian spy who was in part responsible for recruiting the ‘Cambridge Five’- Philby, Blunt, Maclean, Burgess and Cairncross.

As well as work on the design of the building Jack Pritchard also designed the revolutionary furniture to fill the apartments. Made from very modern plywood these pieces are fantastic with the highlight for me the Bauhaus Movement’s Marcel Breuer designed ‘long chair’ and the ‘Penguin Donkey’, a storage unit for Penguin paperbacks.

The building reminds me a bit of Marine Court in St Leonards, marine Court was finished in 1938 and is considerably larger than the Isokon. I’m trying to sell my flat with an aim to buy a flat in Marine Court and go mortgage free.

The vision for a community in a building that drove the design of Isokon is one I would like to take with me to Marine Court; with regular shared meals ‘an eating club’ as it was in the Isokon, taken in a common area in the building. Who know what will happen when I don’t have to work anymore.

As I mentioned in the last post, the first one after I said I was taking a break, I had mostly written this before I decided to finish posting, so here it is almost two months after I visited.

When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life

London – Sunday 1 June 2025

Having only recently announced I wasn’t going to write any more posts, I feel a little embarrassed to be posting so soon. In my defence I wrote this the day after the walk, and well before the self imposed end. I also mostly finished writing a post about a visit to London’s ‘Isokon’ building, so that may also appear. I’m still stuck on Delhi though.

It’s a rare day when friends or family come to London from New Zealand. Long gone are the halcyon days when we were young and free of mortgages and houses and children and family, friends or ourselves were in good, robust health. Travel is hard and expensive. It was just so nice to have far away friends visit.

M and B are visiting London for a few days as M has a conference to attend, they both lived here, like I did in the 80s, but not exactly at the same time as I was here, though we did cross paths, I think. M visited us a few years back and we did a great Sunday London walk through some of my favourite parts of the inner city, if you can ever define London’s inner city. M wanted to do another Sunday walk on this visit so Eleanor and I arranged to meet them at a café near Holborn tube station. Which of course, it being a Sunday, meant the café was closed.

Other than closed cafés and pubs Sunday is my favourite city walking day, it’s just so much quieter than other days, especially in the morning; a quiet walk is a good walk. We were blessed with the weather; it was neither hot nor cold, perfect for knocking off a 12km walk.

Eleanor and I had been up until 1am, so were in need of the coffee we expected to find at our meeting point, fortunately there was an open café not too far away and the coffee and almond croissant were both welcome and enjoyable. Suitably refreshed we set off on what I hoped would be the interesting walk I’d planned in my head.

Our first stop was Sir John Soane Museum on Lincoln’s Inn Fields. I stumbled on it a few years ago when my son was first here, loved it and have been planning on a revisit ever since. Having visitors was the perfect excuse. The ‘house’ is actually three houses that Sir John joined together to house not just himself and his family, but also the vast collection of ‘stuff’ he had accumulated through his and others travels. He was an architect and his collection of art, sculpture, furniture and architectural models reflect his wide curiosity and interest in things historic and beautiful. It is rammed with stuff, a lot of which are plaster casts of original works left in the countries they belong in. I took a lot of photos.

Like me, he also loved ruins, and I find it strange that 200 years ago that some of the ruins I see now were ruins back then; though of course some of those places have been ruins for hundreds of years.

The house was left as a museum when he died in 1837 and is pretty much as it was back then. He was a very well known, and powerful figure; he managed to get a law passed in parliament before he died the “Sir John Soane’s House Museum Act 1833” to prevent his possessions being inherited by his son, who he hated. Not many civilians get a law passed to support their pet grievance. As much as he disliked his son, he was besotted by his wife who died quite young. We had a great chat with one of the volunteers working there who talked about some of the images of his wife that adorned the walls.

It’s an absolute wonder of a museum and we spent a good hour there. I was glad everyone liked it as it sort of set the tone for the rest of the walk.

I took us on a fairly meandering path through Lincoln’s Inn Fields park, where the plane trees destroyed my sinuses, even though I take antihistamine tablets and use a spray; they are lovely trees, but evil.

I digress, I took us on a meandering path through the park then down to Fleet St, and then back up into the old London alleys that link the major roads and are always deserted. I wanted to walk past Dr Johnson’s house and the famous saying that heads this post. Though it was open, we didn’t go in. Not much was going to top Sir John’s pad.

“When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life”. A sentiment I heartily agree with, which explains why I live here and not New Zealand.

While I had an overall plan for the walk there were a few sections where I had no specific route in mind, so we took in a bit of Farringdon then up to St Barts hospital and the scene of a few gruesome 14th century executions, such as William Wallace (you need to look him up yourself if you don’t know who is. Think Mel Gibson with a blue face, actually don’t, ignore that prick). We stopped in the Barbican, my favourite place in London for a brief visit and a light lunch.

It was a straight run north from the Barbican to a short section of the Regents Canal, before it disappeared into the Islington Tunnel.

We sort of followed the canal over ground before joining it again when it reappeared back from the gloom. I take most visitors to London on a walk along the canals, they’re a bit of London that not too many people, even Londoners, appreciate. Though the paths have got much busier over the years, they are still a great way to connect interesting bits of the city, avoiding traffic filled, stinking, roads.

We followed the canal to Kings Cross where we stopped for a well earned and refreshing drink (beer) at the fabulous Spiritland.

We were now almost on the last leg of the walk, with the final stop at St Pancras Old Church and the ‘Hardy Tree’, which I discovered was no longer there. Reading about it as I wrote this, I found that it had blown down in 2022. In 1866 the writer, Thomas Hardy worked for the railways moving gravestones around St Pancras Cemetery as some of it had been purchased to build a new train station. Hardy supposedly stacked gravestones around a tree in a section of the cemetery that was to remain in use. This image is from when I visited in 2016.

Sadly, it’s now just a sad looking collection of headstones buried among a dense clump of bramble and weeds. Apparently a new tree has been planted, though I imagine I will not get to see it in its full glory. At least the stones are still there.

We walked back towards the British Museum as M and B were staying nearby and said our goodbyes, then Eleanor and I headed back to Holborn for the tube back home.

It was a great day out. The walk was a success. it was fab spending some time with M and B. I love showing visitors, and myself, bits of London that are slightly off the beaten track.

The end.

London – Saturday 22 June 2025

After much mental wrangling I’ve decided that I’m going pause the blog for a period, and at this stage I’m not certain how long that period will be. It could be forever, it could be a week. It’s likely to be somewhere in between, but it’s likely to be much longer than a week.

I’ve just renewed my subscription with WordPress so the site will be available for at least the next 12 months, maybe I will have decided on its future by then. There are about 15,000 images saved here and though I have all these backed up elsewhere it’s the only online archive I have of them. The questions I need to ask myself, and then answer honestly are;

    • Will anyone care if the blog disappears?
    • What happens when I stop paying? Do all my photos that massively exceed the free limit get deleted?
    • What happens when I die? This is an inevitability, my blog will stop at some stage, so what is the point of keeping it going now? Though to answer that one, I do reference it every now and then.

I’ve hit a roadblock with India. It’s not that I had a bad time as I didn’t, it’s that I have a thousand photos to review and chose a small number from, and then there is all the research I need to do to make some sense of the history of the places I’m showing. It just seems like a lot of work and there is a lot going on at the moment elsewhere and I’m staring at the India photos on almost daily basis, but going nowhere with them.

I’ve decided to sell my flat in St Leonards and buy somewhere a bit cheaper, though still in St Leonards.  We’ve been there a lot since we returned from our holiday and I’m enjoying being there. Hopefully at the end of that process I can be mortgage free, but that requires a lot of hope.  Knowing how long it took to buy my flat in the first place I suspect this will be a long winded and stressful process. Not having the blog hanging over my head will help me focus on what is important.

Maybe once I’m settled I will have the desire to start blogging again.

Thanks to anyone who has read my ramblings and to even more so to those who found them useful.

Phil

xx

A day in Hong Kong

Hong Kong – Friday 28 March 2025

When I was looking for a flight to get me from Brisbane to Delhi, one of the first options that popped up on the flight aggregator I was using (I use three as there are deals to be found) was a 31-hour journey on Cathay Pacific via Hong Kong. Even though it was one of the best price options, short of flying via two or three (other) Chinese cities, I discarded it as the layover in HK was 11 hours. I like to get to my destination as fast as possible. I eventually circled back to that option and when I discovered I can leave HK airport for the duration of the layover, which was almost entirely during daylight hours, I booked the flight.

I don’t sleep well on planes and this was a midnight flight out of Brisbane after a full day of family, and all the emotions attached to that. So I was  tired when I finally made it through HK immigration into the public side of the airport. It took me a while to find the left luggage counter where I could dump a small bag with a change of clothes, and then I was on the train to the city centre.

I ‘d tried to work out a bit of an itinerary to make the best use of the day I had, taking in a couple of HK’s limited number of brutalist buildings, but it all seemed too difficult. I ended up with no plan, which kind of worked. At least there was no stress with trying to do everything.

I love travelling from the airport on a train, especially in modern Asian cities, the high rises are just so BIG and so everywhere, so alien.

I took the train to Central and walked around there for a bit. It was just coming into morning rush hour, though it was reasonably quiet, certainly not as manic as I expected. I ended up in some form of mega mall/office block complex and spent way too much time walking in circles trying to find somewhere to have coffee and kick my sleep-and-wine-addled brain into focus while I planned what to do with the day.

Google Maps wasn’t helpful at all, Hong Kong is built on layers and the maps app is flat. Just because Starbucks appears a hundred yards away on the map it may, in reality, be three flights up or 20 down. As I said, my brain was addled. I hate Starbucks, but it was where I ended up as it was all I could find. 

I was hit by a monster wave of humidity when I finally made it out of the mega mall/office complex. I was expecting it, and had been slightly prepared after the warm and damp day in Brisbane yesterday. Still, it wasn’t nice. As soon as I was outside, the sweat just poured out of me. Locals were wearing suits and looking cool and relaxed. I looked exactly like what I was – a middle aged, saggy, pallid tourist who’d had little sleep.

I had expected to see fewer westerners than previous visits after the clampdown on dissent and a firmer grasp on affairs by the Chinese government over the last few years. I thought that many would have returned home, but that didn’t seem to be the case. It was very cosmopolitan in the areas of the city centre I roamed. It’s an economic powerhouse I guess, and I imagine there are some good jobs here.

Back in the mall I grabbed some brunch (I’ve no idea how I had room for food after two good meals on the plane) then caught the train out to Tung Chung to see the Big Buddha at Ngong Ping. I had to buy something because the ticket machine for the train only took cash, and only small bills. The ATM only provided 100 dollar bills so I had to get food to have change to buy a ticket. Hong Kong isn’t as modern as it appears on the surface.

There was an example of HK modernist architecture right outside the station in Tung Chung.

To get to Ngong Ping, in the middle of the Lantau Island hills, from Tung Chung you can get a very long and mostly pleasant cable car. What I had stupidly failed to think about was that hundreds of others would want to take a long and enjoyable cable car ride as well. There was a long queue and I was getting a little anxious as it slowly dragged itself towards the cable cars. I ended up having to rush a bit when I did get to the top to ensure I got back to the airport in time for my flight.

On the cable car ride up I shared the car with a family group with a very busy dad who just didn’t stay still for more than five minutes. This didn’t help with the anxiety I had about being hundreds of feet above jungle in a small swaying glass container. Though he is in my favourite photo from the day, so I shouldn’t complain.

The journey takes about 20 minutes and we pass over a small harbour and up and down some quite steep jungle-covered hills. At times it was quite misty and everyone in my cab was trying to be first to see the Buddha through the murk.

The Big Buddha is, by Buddhist standards, relatively new, with construction finishing in 1993. It sits on the top of a hill on the outskirts of Ngong Ping village and near Po Lin Monastery.

There are 268 steps to climb to reach the base of the 34-metre statute. There was some serious puffing going on from my fellow visitors and I must admit I didn’t stop half way up JUST to take a photo…

The view from top was great, clearer than I expected, and as busy as I expected from the queue at the base. I was pushing time a bit so didn’t linger too long.

There was a little bit of wind on the cable car ride back down to the train and I found myself pointlessly hanging on to the seat as the occasional gust rocked the cab. I was on my own, which was good, but also a little unnerving. I did get to take pictures from wherever I wanted, without being ‘the dad’ and getting in others’ way.

I took a train straight back to the airport and after retrieving my bag from left luggage, passed back though security and immigration to await my flight onto Delhi. I used a discount offer from my credit card to access an executive lounge, with the expectation of using the advertised shower to rinse off the sweat of the last 36 or so hours. Of course it was out of order, and I ended up having a sink wash in the bathroom to what I imagine was the distaste of some of my fellow ‘executives’. I did eat and drink enough to make up the fee, though, and was feeling pleasantly relaxed for the next leg of the journey. India here I come!

I enjoyed my day in Hong Kong, I wish I’d used the time more constructively, though I loved the trip to Big Buddha. I kind of had plans in my head to do stuff with the day and not just be a tourist, but a tourist is what I am.

Doing a long layover to break up a long flight is exhausting, but worthwhile and I will do it again sometime.

Family time

Brisbane, Australia – Thursday 27 March 2025

I arrived in Brisbane late Wednesday afternoon, with a mix of trepidation and excitement swirling in my head. This was potentially the most problematic leg of the entire holiday and I had no idea how it would go.

Australia isn’t high up on my ‘favourite country’ lists, and Brisbane is my least favourite city in Australia. Growing up, and spending most of my adult life in New Zealand, and most of my working life working for Australian companies I have an unhealthy, and probably undeserved, antipathy for the country. For a lot of New Zealanders it’s an almost gene level dislike, though I’m English by birth so I guess it’s just seeped into my psyche by some form of osmosis. The Aussies just think us Kiwis don’t like them because we’re jealous of their superiority; though that doesn’t seem to help the situation much. Plus they keep stealing our stuff; pavlova, for example.

My ex-wife lives near Brisbane and my two oldest children live in Australia, one in North Queensland and one in Darwin in the Northern Territory. Brisbane is their closest big city. My youngest lives in Auckland and has flown over with my grandson and the theory is we were all going to get together tomorrow. It will be the first time in 10 years since all three children have been in the same place at the same time and 16 years since them, my ex and I have been together. Who knows who will turn up and how the day would go.

I landed in a storm, an auspicious start; it was only late afternoon but it was almost dark when I exited the airport and took a taxi in the pouring rain to my hotel which was just down the road. I unpacked and got in contact with my eldest son who had come down from Darwin the day before. We agreed that he would drive to the hotel with his girlfriend and we would find somewhere to eat.

I was loathe to go far as I was tired and he’s not exactly a conversationalist and it could be a long night, I wanted a quick escape if need be. We ended up in a bar in the mall next to the hotel as the hotel restaurant was really expensive and we just wanted to eat. The burger was decent and exactly what I wanted and a couple of glasses of wine eased me into the evening and prepared me for tomorrow. It was lovely to see him and get some time together.

I’d arranged to meet the family on Brisbane’s South Bank late morning, time to hang out for a few hours, share a meal and then do our own thing. We’re not a close family, 10 years is a long time to not be together. There is no animosity and we get on fine, but I was expecting the day to be hard work, and it was, but at least everyone turned up, which was sort of a surprise and it was properly nice to see everyone after such a long time.

I had a bit of sorting out to do, repacking and getting organised for a day in Hong Kong tomorrow. I’d booked a flight from Brisbane to Delhi that gave me an 11 hour layover and I was keen to get out of the airport and see a bit of the city. I’d researched left luggage at Hong Kong airport so I could leave my small pack while I walked. I wanted to have a change of clothes for the onward flight to Delhi. Hong Kong was going to be hot and humid and I would have been three days in the same clothes if I didn’t change, and no one would want to sit next to me on the Delhi flight.

After breakfast in the same mall as last night I checked out of the hotel and headed to the left luggage lockers at Brisbane airport via a free shuttle from the mall.

I’d planned this part of the trip reasonably well, I had to do something after waking up at 4am. After dumping my bags I took the train from the Airport into Brisbane city centre; for a while I was almost the only person on the train. It was weird.

And here is where the story takes an (un)dramatic twist. I got off the train at Central station and left at the nearest exit, which was right outside the Queensland Railways building; an unexpected piece of Queensland brutalism.

I’d unexpectedly stumbled into the capital of Australian brutalism and the city is littered with lovely 60s and 70s concrete masterpieces, especially on the South Bank, fully deserving of their own post, which I will do next. I’m starting to like this place, and a return visit sounds very plausible now.

I didn’t have a huge amount of time before seeing the family so walked through some late morning drizzle down through the centre and across the Brisbane River to the South Bank. Brisbane is an interesting city to walk through, though warm and muggy on this damp day.

I waited over a coffee near our proposed meeting place and surprisingly everyone turned up, and pretty much all on time, and at the same time. We caught up over coffee and it was lovely to see everyone together, strained as it was. We are all very different people with vastly different adult experiences, expectations and aspirations. It was difficult at times, but still we’re family and it was good.

We walked for a bit, the weather didn’t really help and we had my 10 year old grandson with us, so though we were near the museum and art gallery we didn’t venture in, it didn’t really interest my ‘kids’ either. Though to be fair art galleries are only a recent interest of mine, so there is time for them to show an interest. We stopped for some photos at the Nepalese Peace Pagoda.

My grandson had been promised a visit to an amusement arcade in the city so we crossed over the bridge and went up to a viewing deck on what I think was The Star building, ultra modern and attractive in its way. It did have a very ‘cool’ glass floor overhanging the motorway a lot of floors below. I tip-toed slowly onto the glass, and then had a good laugh when I realised everyone else was doing the same.  My grandson was a little nervous getting on there.

When the kids went off to the amusement arcade, I took a sneaky side trip to the nearby Queensland Parliament building, which had the look of being the best, most brutal building in Brisbane, but sadly there weren’t any good quickly gained angles, and of course being parliament I couldn’t just wander in for a nosey.

I joined up with everyone for bao buns for lunch which was nice, a good opportunity to sit around a table and chat and catch up a bit on the last few years. After lunch we all walked back to the South Bank and went our separate ways. I took a few photos of the brutalist buildings on the South Bank (which will be in the next post) before taking a short river boat ride to an area of the north bank with a bunch of bars where I had a beer to kill some time before heading back to the airport on the train.

Next stop Hong Kong!