Tag: holiday

Paris 4

Paris 4, January 2026

Our final day in this lovely part of a lovely city (sad face). The rain we experienced yesterday morning had blown over and though it was cloudy and more was forecast, we entered the day with hope for a walk before heading to Gare du Nord for the train back to London and on to St Leonards.

After breakfasting in the hotel, packing up and farewelling our small but perfectly formed room we headed out the door for our final stroll up and down the hill that is Montmartre. There are so many different options to take, narrow cobbled streets and steep steps are everywhere, there is almost no need to repeat a previous walk. I just love a steep narrow cobbled street, or any combination of two of those things, especially when nestled in between tall houses that have seen a lot more history than I have.

Our main objective today was to visit the Musée de Montmartre. On the second floor is a recreation of the studio and home of the artist Suzanne Valadon, who lived in the building with her husband and son from 1912.

Valadon was well known in Montmartre, as a model (for Renoir among others), a muse, a lover and eventually as the great artist she was.

We didn’t know too much about her life or art until I read a Substack essay just before we came here. After a tough childhood in the late 1890s, from early life in rural France to desperate poverty in Paris, she lived an amazing and full life. Starting as an acrobat and street performer and then artist’s model when Montmartre was almost the centre of the artistic world, with so many (today anyway) well known artists living in this small enclave. Artists like Renoir, Toulouse-Lautrec (who named her Suzanne), Van Gough, Degas, Utrillo (her husband) and Picasso all lived in the area at the same time.

We were interested to see some of her work.

We arrived at the museum a little early and were bemused at the couple of people waiting outside to go in, especially after the size of the queue at the LVF On Monday which had hundreds of people. I preferred this one to be fair.

The museum was OK, there wasn’t a lot to see that particularly interested me until we got to the Valadon rooms. These few small rooms have been designed to represent what life was like for her one hundred or so years ago.

Her paintings adorn some of the walls in this tiny apartment.

The studio was fabulous, with wonderful light and deep shadows. I love looking at how creative people work(ed), it’s slightly less interesting now, with so much work done on computers; often with ginormous monitors. Perhaps I should recreate a classic ‘creative’ space and that would inspire me to be a better writer, photographer or something else. Maybe not, I’m not so big on clutter.

Then, merde!

It was time to collect our bags and walk back down the hill of Montmartre to get the metro to Gare du Nord, the Eurostar to St Pancras, the Northern Line Tube to London Bridge and the train back to St Leonards and home.

I LOVED Montmartre 🙂

Paris 3

Paris 3, January 2026

As expected, the day dawned with rain outside the window, not too heavy but not too light either. Enough to dampen the sound of the street outside our first-floor window waking up and obscure the window of the yet to be open record shop opposite. There was no pre-breakfast walk this morning, or even a particular rush to get out of the door.

We had tickets booked for 11am at the Musée des Arts Décoratifs to visit the ‘100 years of art deco’ exhibition. We walked in the rain to the nearby Abbesses Metro station, taking in cobbled streets of Montmartre we hadn’t set on before.  The seats on the platform of Abbesses station, and some of the others we had seen on the green line, were very chic. So Paris, some might say. The Metro has been very easy to use, other than the very narrow barriers making life difficult for someone with a wide backpack – like me.

We arrived before the museum opened and sheltered for a while over coffee in a Starbucks over the road. Their coffee is still too milky for my more austere taste. With a couple of minutes before opening, we crossed back over and joined the short, but growing queue.

The exhibition was interesting, I was hoping for more architecture, and it was quite small, the focus being more on art deco era jewellery and homeware rather than buildings. The clue was in the name of the museum ‘decorative arts’. I enjoyed it nonetheless, especially the travel posters, some of which would look great on my wall.

The museum was next door to the much better known Louvre. Last time I was in in Paris we queued for ages to get in and it was very busy. I think it’s even busier now, but not on a rainy Tuesday in March.  While there were a few people about, and there has been plenty of selective photography and cropping in the edit, I was surprised (pleasantly) how deserted it all was at not far off midday. Pro tip; go to Paris in the rain.

We had no intention of going into the Louvre, we’ve both been before, and nor did we have any intention of going into Notre-Dame either, though that was our next destination.

Walking along an almost deserted Seine riverbank in the rain was very enjoyable, Paris, as so many people have said, is a beautiful city. As it wasn’t bombed in the Second World War, the city wasn’t subjected to the random building work that has plagued London ever since. Central Paris has largely retained its mid-1800s Hausmann design to great effect.

The rain started to fall more heavily as we walked over Pont Neuf to Île de la Cité, one of two islands in the River Seine and the location of Notre-Dame. In need of a wee, a sit down, a drink and some lunch we found a café to take shelter in just off the main square by that most famous cathedral.

We both had French onion soup (or onion soup as they call it in France), loaded with cheese and bread – perfect wet weather food and delicious. Sometimes the tourist places deliver exactly what you want.

The weather hadn’t improved while we ate so we decided to cross back to the ‘mainland’, walk through the Latin Quarter to the Pantheon and then get the Metro back to the hotel.

I had fond memories of the Latin Quarter from 2012 but was disappointed today. It was possibly the weather, possibly tiredness, but it seemed to be less interesting than I recalled.

The Pantheon was great under a dark grey sky.

On the way back to the hotel we had one of those classic train moments that just never seem to actually happen in real life. At Sèvres – Babylone station Eleanor had got on the train and I waited to allow an old couple to get on first; they took so long the doors closed and I was left standing on the platform!

Luckily, there is decent mobile connectivity on the Metro so we arranged to meet at the station where we needed to change lines. We both found it quite amusing, fortunately.

After an afternoon rest we walked around Montmartre, I had a date with a record shop which was loosely on the way to where we planned to go for dinner ( It wasn’t really). It was a great shop with a good collection of second-hand records and a friendly vibe; I bought a couple of LPs as I couldn’t help myself, I will go back next time we stay here and spend a bit more time.

We’d found a vegan restaurant online and while we were the only customers during the time we were there the food and wine were fantastic; another great evening meal.  Amusingly, Tuesday night seemed to be local running club night on the hills and steps of Montmartre; as we ate our food, we watched groups and individual runners pounding up the hill to Sacre Coeur and back down again. We decided to join them in a slow walk after our meal. There are plenty if hills to walk off that lovely dinner.

Sacre Coeur was magnificent all lit up with white spotlights and the zipping and zapping of the runners, many with headlights, made for an enjoyable time on the top of the hill.

Walking back towards our hotel we spotted the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

Another fabulous, albeit wet, day in this fabulous city.

Paris 2

Paris, January 2026
First things first. The French, or at least the Parisians, do say ‘Voilà’, and they seem to say it a lot. I liked that. Secondly, all those stories about Parisians being rude to tourists, particularly the English, are, of course, complete pants, admittedly, these seem to be old stories. Everyone was very friendly.


We stayed in a hotel named after the writer Marcel Aymé. To be perfectly honest, prior to Eleanor booking the hotel I’d never heard of him. He was a prolific writer, though English translations are rare. He was born in Burgundy in 1902, moving to Paris in 1923 where he discovered a love and talent for writing, publishing his first novel in 1926. He lived most of his life in Montmartre. His most famous short story is Le passe-muraille or “The Walker-Through-Walls”. He died in 1967. He was also very cool.


We had a lot planned for today, the only day of the three days we have in Paris where rain isn’t forecast, so walking these lovely historic streets was in order. We started early, squeezing 40 minutes around Montmartre before breakfast in the hotel. The sculpture of ‘The walker through walls’ just round the corner was our first stop.


We had a lovely walk around the area. We/I should do more morning-before-breakfast walks when on holiday; it was so peaceful and as everyone who does photography knows, the light at the beginning and end of the day is usually the best.


One of the things I like about Montmartre, a location typical to the ones we try to stay in, is the mix of residential and tourist places. Seeing the residents going about their early morning, kids to school, walking to the station, grabbing coffee and breakfast on the way, just enhances the feel of a place. It’s as close to living somewhere as can be experienced in a few days.


We also got a great view towards the Eifel Tower, something that was impossible with the low cloud last night. I get an absolute thrill out of seeing such iconic things. I know it’s a cliché to love the view of the tower over Parisian rooftops, but hey. It’s fucking cool.


Way back when we first discussed coming to Paris, we timed the trip so we could see the Gerhard Richter exhibition at the Louis Vuitton Foundation (LVF). We used the metro to get as close to the gallery as possible, though were surprised to find that the map’s recommended way took us through a bit of forest.


I was expecting to be walking through something open and grassy, like a London royal park. It was a little creepy walking through straggly trees not really knowing where we were going; especially to something as fancy as the LVF; which is an amazing building, and coming from the direction we did, completely out of place.


Gerhard Richter was born in Germany in 1932 and has been called ‘the world’s best living painter’. He is constantly changing, moving through a wide range of abstract styles over his career and this exhibition was vast, with so many impressive works, some of them huge; like ‘The Stroke (on red)’. Up close, this 20-metre long painting made from tiny individual brush strokes is stunning. It must have taken weeks to paint.


He had a period of very clinical, clean and brightly coloured works as well a ‘grey’ period.


I took a lot of photos in the exhibition; Richter was prolific and an artistic shapeshifter and with such a variety of work there was a lot I liked and a lot that didn’t appeal at all. I particularly liked his photo-realistic paintings, both from an early and late in his career.


I can’t say it was my favourite work, but a special mention has to go to his 1983 work ‘Candle’ which is best known as the cover of Sonic Youth’s 1988 album ‘Daydream Nation’, one of my favourite records.


We left the LVF after a tasty lunch in the (expensive) restaurant and walked to the Arc de Triumph. We’d both been up it before so decided to keep on going down towards the river Seine and the Eiffel Tower.


There is nothing I can say that will add to the many thousands (millions?) of references made to this wonderful piece of late 19th century engineering. It is impressive, I and the hundreds of people queuing to make their way up to the viewing platform, will attest to that.


We took a slow meander back to a metro station before heading back to the hotel. It had been a good day.

Auckland, New Zealand

Auckland, New Zealand
December 2025.

Even without the benefit of hindsight, travelling to New Zealand from London for four days for Christmas was a crazy idea. It was super expensive and three days after our return, as I start to write this, I’m still falling asleep on the sofa in front of the telly way too early in the evening.

For all that, and the reason for going, it was a great trip. Weirdly, I think it was my favourite trip back home since I left almost to the day in 2011.

Not long before Eleanor and I went back to New Zealand for a longer holiday in March, I had a call from my sister to say that Olivia, her daughter and my niece, who is now 29, had just been diagnosed with lung cancer, and the prognosis wasn’t great. Things have progressed over these last few months, and the prognosis never improved. Liv does not have much time left, and this was most likely going to be her last Christmas. Going back for a family Christmas was one of the easiest decisions I’ve had to make.

For the first time in many years, we decided to fly Air New Zealand and go west from London via Vancouver, rather than passing through the Asian cities we usually transit through. I was kinda hoping that the short visit and the change of direction would mean we were not so badly impacted by jet lag and the 13-hour time difference between the two countries. That was a misplaced hope.

We arrived in Auckland at 5:30am and my sister whisked us off to the downtown hotel we had booked. We’d decided that even though we only had four days on the ground in Auckland we would spend some time doing what we wanted rather than thrusting ourselves into family. It was the right choice. We have a few favourite places in Auckland and were keen to make sure we visited some of them as we are here. It’s summer after all, and we really would like some warmth after a couple of miserable months in London. Our hotel is very close to the apartment we stayed in when we lived here during covid and also near the Viaduct; a harbourside marina surrounded by bars. hotels and restaurants. I have a love / hate relationship with this part of Auckland. I mean it is very pretty but I dislike the conspicuous wealth and some of the people who hang out in the bars here are not my type.

After a short nap we met Mum in Auckland Art Gallery for lunch and a brief wander about the gallery, Eleanor and I also took the opportunity to visit the Pop Art exhibition while we there. I loved this, Virgil Ortiz’s Astronauts: Stedu and Cuda.

We wandered around downtown Auckland for a bit, there was some shopping we wanted to do and a couple of favourite shops to visit, though I avoided record shops. Downtown looks sadder each time I visit. There are more closed shops and homeless people than I can remember. There is a big public transport construction project going on to build a small underground rail service, I think it opens late 2026. Once this is finished, I hope it gives the centre the boost it needs.

After a second (and deeper) nap we met friends at Sun Ray, a deservedly popular Ponsonby restaurant for dinner and a drink, before meeting my sister and my son to go and see the Franklin Road Christmas lights.

The Franklin Road lights are a long-established Auckland ‘must-do’ if you’re in the city in December, we took the kids to see them. Sadly, when Eleanor and I were living in Auckland in 2021, covid restrictions meant the event was cancelled so Eleanor was particularly keen to see them this year. They didn’t disappoint (my photos do) and I could see why the health authorities were concerned during Covid, it was very busy! A huge amount of effort is put into the lights, by both the council and (most of ) the residents, it is a lot of fun and the street was packed with families and groups of all ages enjoying themselves on a warm early summer evening. There is nothing quite like this in London.

The following day and still a bit discombobulated (I love that word) from the time difference and little sleep, we caught a ferry over to Waiheke Island, which is probably our favourite place in greater Auckland. Surprisingly, the sky was clear and looked like it was going to defy the cloud and drizzle that had been forecast. There was still a bit of wind about, so I was expecting a mildly bumpy journey once we were in the Hauraki Gulf; that also proved to be wrong, it was a lovely journey.

We passed Rangitoto Island on the way. It’s my favourite dormant volcano, and while I’ve walked up it a few times I’ve yet to do it with Eleanor. On the to-do list for next time.

If you’ve read this blog for a while you would have already seen me wax lyrical about Waiheke and various vineyards, which, frankly, is the main reason we go. We had booked a table at Mudbrick, somewhere we have been before. It’s close to the ferry terminal and the food has always been good, it didn’t disappoint this time and neither did the wine. Disappointingly I got a little sunburned as we sat outside after lunch and had a final glass.

My old friend David, who we visited in Christchurch, was on the island for family Christmas, and picked us up and we went back to his place, ‘the shack’, where we stayed a few years ago and had a brief but enjoyable catch with him and his wife, Kim, before getting the ferry back to the city.

Off the ferry we walked to nearby De Brett’s Hotel for a cocktail. This became a favourite spot for coffee or an evening drink once covid restrictions were over when we were living here in 2021/2022. We brought our London friend, Paula here back in March, but bloody hell they’ve changed the bar around and made the nice bit into a restaurant, removing the comfy chairs and side tables. Travesty. We left and had a cocktail on the rooftop bar in our hotel instead, which was ruined for me by another customer who was a bit of a dick.

The next day, Christmas Day was also unexpectedly sunny. We had arranged a late checkout so after breakfast in the hotel we walked up to Auckland’s harbour bridge, something we did quite a lot during covid. It’s a nice walk along the side of the marina and the vast number of yachts and motorboats; like London there is massive wealth disparity in Auckland.

I was looking for a pohutukawa tree in bloom. Known as New Zealand’s Christmas tree, they’re normally red with flowers at the time of year, though most were still only in the bud stage, so it was nice to find one or two examples in flower.

The rest of the day was spent with family. We took a taxi to another hotel near where my mum lives then the mum, Eleanor and I drive to my sister Sarah’s house. All her family were there as my son and grandson. It was a lovely day, especially so considering the circumstances.

On Boxing day we checked out of the hotel and went to Mum’s, then the three of us drove up to Muriwai Beach where we met the rest of the family, along with my other sister, Alison, and her son Chris, who were both up from Dunedin for a couple of days. It was the first time since who knows when that both my sisters and I have been together with Mum, and we were all together to visit the spot where we scattered Dad’s ashes in 2007.

I always come here with Mum when I’m in New Zealand. We were blessed again by the weather, though a storm a couple of years ago damaged the area and the place we scattered Dad is no longer accessible, blocked off by a fence, but at least we can see it in the foreground, and the backdrop is lovely. The clouds were looming and as we left to walk back to the cars the first spots of rain of the whole trip started to fall.

We did go and look at the gannet colony though, part of the same ritual. 

After a drink and brief chat back at my sister’s we were whisked off to the airport. Our four tremendously busy days in Auckland were over.

I’m glad we went; it was the biggest family gathering in years and it was a joy seeing everyone together and spending just a little bit more time with my niece. The trip could have been maudlin, but Liv was in great spirits, which allowed us all to enjoy the time we had together.

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!

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!

Christchurch to Dunedin to Christchurch

Christchurch, New Zealand – Wednesday 26 March 2025

On Monday morning, we did what has now becoming routine, and left Christchurch after rush hour and the school run had finished. We’re staying within walking distance of the city centre, as I will discover when I return, and Christchurch traffic has not improved in the 14 years since I last visited. Our destination is just outside the city of Dunedin, about five hours south.

We missed the first place we planned to stop at, the ‘Book Barn’, a vast second hand book shop recommended by our Christchurch hosts. We didn’t see the sign until after we had driven past. Much of the drive south is a flat straight road, with the occasional ‘S’ bend as the road crosses the main train line. then back again a few kilometres further on. Unlike the trip from Blenheim to Christchurch, where we did the reverse as we travelled by train.

It’s not the most thrilling of rides and I felt a bit for Paula who did all the driving; practice she will make perfect after we go our separate ways tomorrow. The only excitement was crossing really long bridges over the frequent and very wide rivers, and stopping for lunch in a garden centre just south of Timaru. You can (usually) trust a garden centre lunch. We were, as expected the youngest people there, and we’re all in our 60s.

THE highlight of the journey was the Steam Punk Museum in Oamaru, about two thirds of the way down the coast. We stayed for a while and I took too many photos for this post, so will do a separate one next. Needless to say, it was fun!

Our final stop was to see the Moeraki boulders. I was warned that they were underwhelming and to be honest, they very much were. They are interesting and unique and worth seeing, but keep your expectations in your backpack, and maybe keep that in the boot of your car, locked of course. I wanted to see them as I don’t think there is anything else like them anywhere else in the world and for me that alone is a reason.

The ‘boulders’ are a small number of almost spherical rocks, slowly disappearing into the sand of the beach and I’m sure years ago they were much more spectacular. If you do want to visit, try and get there early in the morning to avoid other visitors, especially tours. There weren’t many people when we visited, but each one wanted a photo standing on the rocks, so I had to wait one-by-one as they did so. I was muttering with frustration by the time I got my ‘turn’.

They are cool though, and I especially liked the boulder lying at the top of the beach by itself that has been split open by a small landslide and you can see its hollow core. as if it’s a museum exhibit.

My sister lives on the Otago Peninsular in the hamlet of Portobello, a thirty-minute drive east of Dunedin’s city centre. They’ve only recently moved there from not too far from Nelson at the top of the South Island. Though there are a number of houses, a lot are holiday homes and it feels quite remote, but the house has a lovely view from the deck and the remoteness suits my sister and her family.

Just before we left New Zealand, back when we stayed here for seven months in 2021/2022, we were going to come down to Dunedin for my nephew’s wedding. Sadly we ended up not coming due to the ongoing Covid pandemic. Though it was largely over in New Zealand by then, we didn’t want to risk the confined spaces of flights and wedding venues as our return to London was immediately after the wedding. I hadn’t seen my nephews in years and had never met the eldest’s wife until today. 

We had dinner with my sister, her sons and daughter in law and a very nice evening catching up. It was also Eleanor and I’s last night together for 16 days, which seems like an epically long time for us to be apart, so the evening was spent with that hanging over me. I will miss her.

We woke to an empty house on Tuesday morning as my sister had gone to work. After a quick breakfast we took a leg stretching walk down the waterfront where I found this fantastic local bus stop; I love those chairs. It was a lovely day for a walk and it is very pretty here under the sun. I expect on a windy, rainy winter evening, it’s not quite so jolly.

At the end of my sister’s road is this lovely feature made when the road was cut through, and now known as Pineapple Rock, for obvious reasons.

We drove into Dunedin and parked in a supermarket carpark in the town centre. Free parking is always good. We had a final early lunch and then it was time for (almost tearful) farewells as Paula and Eleanor headed off in the car to continue their tour of the lower south island and I took my small backpack, I’d left the big one at my friends’, and walked around Dunedin for an hour before getting one of the two daily buses back to Christchurch.  Weirdly, I seem to have no photos of Dunedin, other than the below.

I discovered, a bit late, that there are some great brutalist buildings in Dunedin, particularly as part of the university. Annoyingly I didn’t really get the time to find them, though I did find the back of the hospital. There is some interesting architecture in Dunedin, a good mix of local stone buildings from the Victorian era and 60/70 construction, with a few modern buildings mixed in.

It’s a nice little city, and I want to come back again. Not least as it plays a huge part in New Zealand’s musical history, especially with Flying Nun Records in the early 80s when I was going to see a lot of bands. I remain a firm fan.

The bus ride was long and slow, but perfectly fine. It was my first time alone for a few weeks and time to mentally unwind and prepare for the next part of the trip was welcome. An opportunity to reset my brain and outlook and prepare for thinking and planning by myself.

I stayed the night at my friends’ house again, joining them, and winning, the local pub quiz, which was a lot of fun and very unexpected. On Wednesday morning I headed off with my big backpack and walked to a barbers about halfway to the centre where I had the remains of a winter beard shaved off. I didn’t want an extra coat in the hot climate of Delhi – forecast of 38 degrees towards the end of my time there.

After the shave I walked back to the art gallery and used their free bag store to leave the big and small packs. After pretending to look at some exhibits I’d seen just a couple of days ago, I grabbed a coffee and snuck out the side door in search of the brutalist council building I’d seen on Sunday. The art gallery building is beautiful.

As I previously noted, I couldn’t find the council building, so I just enjoyed an hour of walking around the city, before collecting my bags and catching the bus out to the airport for the next leg of my trip; a day in Brisbane to hopefully see all three of my ‘kids’ in the same place at the same time, a first in over 10 years. I’m excited, but pensive.

Onwards.