LONDON TOWN

Despite BOJO being accused of lying to The Queen, it does not appear to have adversely affected Londoners.  Sharing the Northern Line service to Balham "Gateway to the South", commuters appeared to be more interested in YouTube, games and social media than the imminent descent into post Brexit armageddon.  Maybe, as the popular press would have it, Brits have "simply given up caring and just want it over with" (dreadful grammar but I am quoting paid journalists).

The millennium crowd at popular drinking hole The Bedford couldn't care less about Brexit , if last night's crowd is a fair representation.  They were only interested in loudly chatting up the opposite sex (perhaps The Bedford isn't favoured by the LGBTQ community) and getting one in ~ beverages that is.  We made our delightful waitress (I shall call her Jo) pine for Sydney's Eastern suburbs where she once resided. The Commonwealth Bank is the lesser for not supporting her visa extension.  Jo, ascertaining our senior status, guided we four to a distant corner table far from the raucous crowd in the front bar who couldn't care less.

Seated under prominent portraits of George Harrison in his psychedelic phase and Mick Jagger applying lipstick to the altered Turner from "Performance", Jo tempted us with the Bedford's dinner specials after taking our drinks order ~ two pints of Camden Hells lager and a carafe of pinot grigio (none of this Greek half kilo EU nonsense).  The groovy decor guaranteed to please assembled baby boomers, was having its effect.  "Some people think that's Frank Zappa" said Jo.  "Rubbish" we cried "That's from The White Album!".  Oh dear, baby boomers do love to show off.

Chris and I ordered the crisp fish and chips with mushy peas, Paulette the calamari and Kim the meatballs with piquant sauce.  Excellent!  There's no getting around it, the Pom's know how to do pub food.  "Would you like to see the pudding selections?" Jo asked.  "I apologise for rushing you, only the kitchen is shutting soon." "No, no, just coffee please, and do you have white Sambucca?."

Feeling the effects of a day traversing the Continent, we made our way out of the still heaving pub and headed in the direction of Bedfordshire.

LAID BACK GREECE

The waiter picks up the plate and bounces it on the paper table cloth dislodging the prawn heads.  At the nearby table the bloke withe the Hollister t-shirt and the 30 something with low slung bazookas are dipping their forks into the salad between drags on their fag.  The bloke next door picks up his t-bone and takes a surreptitious bite.  Knives and forks are all very well, but when the occasion takes you....

Eating in France has a touch of sophistication, in Italy it is a touch frenetic whereas in Greece it's laid back and ordered.  You sit down and the paper table cloth, iced water and bread basket suddenly appear.  You order drinks "a half kilo of wine, two beers and an ouzo" which appear as you peruse the menu.  Greek salad, fried calamari, fava beans, sardines, tzaziki, beetroot salad ~ it may be supplemented by other dishes but remains the same no matter where you dine. Chips are perennials as is fetta, either fried or prominent as an oregano sprinkled slab on top of your salad.

The Mediterranean water laps at their feet while Greek families recline in the hot sun under umbrellas in various states of undress.  Babies, millennials, big mamas and papas gingerly step over stony beaches before immersing themselves, and happy in their own skin, bob about conversing in hats.  Occasionally, they will be required to move their possessions as sudden tidal surges occur threatening thongs and things.  Don't bother getting dressed for lunch, don't even dry yourself.  Dripping, you know the fish will be as briny as you, and that salad will be fresh and crisp.

Sitting in the shade sipping my spritz, I notice two Patsy clones, sunglasses perched on their artfully dressed tresses, discussing the season with a sugar daddy in a pink shirt.  A street vendor toting umbrellas and sunglasses approached their table.  Tolerated by cafes, vendors are a part of life. Expecting the brush off, I was surprised when Pats#1 engaged the down at heel vendor and examined his wares.  She didn't purchase anything but she gave him the time of day.

LOUTRAKI #2

It may not be everyone's idea of a holiday town with favoured tavernas plonked in the middle of municipal utility terminals and abandoned housing shells crumbling into dusty weeds, but Loutraki is handily located for access to the seaside attractions and towns of the Peloponnese Peninsula.  The panoramic views of the sparkling Gulf of Corinth from our B&B are unbeatable and the covered verandah the perfect place to dine.  It is, however, the daily civilian activities that make Loutraki so memorable.

There is an ancient Greek custom where men in large groups congregate at coffee shops drinking coffee, playing backgammon and talking very loudly.  Just men, mind you.  Little old ladies plonk themselves down on the busy pavement in comfy chairs watching the passing parade and young dudes on push bikes in message T-shirts do wheelies and call each other Spiro. It is obvious that Greece has an extravagant number of service stations and pharmacies, however while servos are always open, pharmacies rarely are.  I also understand why Greek run grocery stores are so Australian.  They are everywhere, as are pastry shops and gelato bars.  

Taking a number at the post office is worthwhile even if only to purchase stamps.  Fifteen minutes reading yesterday's UK Sunday Times passed before my #16 was called.  Following a three way discussion determining what value stamp I required, I attempted to leave, but due to the speed at which my transaction was completed, I was required to go around again!

The Hellenic traffic laws are something to wonder at. Should a driver wish to pick up a coffee or chat to a mate, it seems perfectly acceptable to just stop and hop out leaving the car and it's indicators flashing.  Greek drivers are remarkably patience and horns don't start blaring until 3 minutes have passed ~ just time for an espresso.  Motor scooters peer out from behind buses before weaving haphazardly through the traffic.  Pedestrian crossings are just for decoration and cars are parallel parked two, sometimes three deep on both sides of the road.  Oh, and you are driving on the wrong side of the road!  

Exiting the town by road is fraught with danger. It is therefore a pleasant surprise when you cross the remarkable Corinth Canal and hit the three lane autobahn. The Peloponnese Peninsula is spectacular with craggy crevasses, laden fruit and olive plantations, archaeology sites and foliage covered mountains.  Even the secondary roads are notable with frequent roadside altars and indicative archaeological signage. Regular comfort stops and overtaking on double yellow lines appears to be obligatory.

Peloponnesean Peninsula

Chris picked up our mighty Nissan Micro from the Hotel Pappas carpark below and we were soon on our way.  Once he had negotiated the perils of Loutraki we cruised down the Peloponnese Peninsula towards Nafplio and the free car parks where registration plates are hardly ever confiscated.  It is difficult to believe that our hardy Nissan Micro is traversing the same terroir as Richard Egan did in the 1962 Cinamascope epic where his gritty and artfully besmirched King Leonidas and his 300 Spartans had their date with destiny at Thermopylae, in a battle against the Persians led by the evil emperor Xerxes.

Google maps led us via a tortured route to our selected destination Nafplio Pargeggio Port which despite it's hidden charms, wasn't where we wanted to go, had we known it.  Retracing our steps and negotiating Nafpilo' undoubted charms, we parked in the Port Pareggio and sought an appropriate beverage purveyor.

Semingly unable to grasp the Greek language (have you seen their alphabet?), I have assumed my nom de plume Giovanni due Collini and begun conversing in Italian.  It is so much more effective.  Mi scuzzi ~ people get out of your way, Il conto per favore ~ your bill arrives etc.  Europeans can't absorb strine at close quarters and think we are Kiwis or worse Poms!  So I was wrapped today to see my enthusiastic suggestion of Greek roast lamb ordered by our nearest dining companions. The Israeli party who had occupied the table earlier had uniformly stuck to salad although I noticed one of the ladies had the good sense to consume a half kilo bottle of my favourite beer Mythos.  We have learned Greeks order beverages by weight ~ half a kilo equals 500ml.  You live and learn!

Driving on the opposite side of the road to what any good quiet Australian would do in his Kingswood HQ, we sailed straight as an arrow from a true Spartan bow towards our besieged Loutraki B&B.  Google maps, a recent Xerxes takeover target, attempted to twart our safe return home to Loutraki but Chris had its measure.  Our eta, prior to the reopening of the Greek pharmacies, was timed to perfection arriving home just before our B&B pool reopened.

KUSADASI~ TURKEY

Daria, our walking guide, provided us with essential facts about Turkey: population 87 million with 12 million in Istanbul, no specified national religion but predominantly moslem.  "We don't mind a drink though".

Two things I noticed while walking was the Turks are very patriotic with many Turkish flags flying, and that they are compulsive traders.  We spent considerable time defending our bank balances against a series of carpet salesmen's "very best offers", even adjusting their previous rock bottom price as they followed us out of their shops.  A Fred Perry polo shirt was my sole purchase and only time will tell whether my €25 was spent on the genuine article.

Barbershops are ubiquitous with an unusual service provided once the cut was completed, the barber closely waving a lit candle about the customer's head burning away the hair in his ears!  I doubt I'll tell Luigi about this practice upon return to my hairdresser in Belco.

"Would you like an ice cream", Daria asked Hal from Ohio.  "Sure" said Hal unsurely.  Grasping a long ice cream scoop, Omar served up an ice cream and handed it over leaving Hal grasping an empty cone.  A series of swift moves involving cones, ice creams and hands resulted in Hal's nose dabbed with pistachio.

Our cruise itinerary included an excursion to the 2000 year old amphitheatre the Ephesus Odeon.  In Roman times this was a male only study establishment, however in these enlightened times they let anyone in.  As we entered men were adorned with a garland of plastic laurel leaves and ladies with a coronet of colourful flowers.  Once the 500 guests were guided over the crumbling steps and stairs and seated, the musicians made their way into the orchestra pit.  Australian OH&S officers would have conniptions over the everyday practices we witnessed in Greece and Turkey. 

The Aegean Chamber Orchestra played a selection of orchestral pieces by Bach, Brahms and Dvorak etc with and without a flautist.  The depth of the orchestra pit amplified the music with the sound of the double bass and the use of pizzicato on violins particularly effective.  Once the concert was over and the amphitheatre cleared, we were guided back onto our buses by crew members clad in togas and gladiator outfits.

Kasadasi was pumping as we returned, the bus swerving around the world's first roundabout (circa 200BC), passing bars and restaurants filled with customers, many watching the football.  A live broadcast of the game clashed with loud music as shopkeepers continued to tempt returning passengers into wonderful deals "Get your pomegranate molasses here, I'm practically giving it away".

LOUTRAKI

Exiting Athens is like driving along Parramatta Road, crowded in on both sides by car yards and stuck in roadworks equivalent to Gladys' best laid plans.

Following eleven days of cruising the Aegean Sea and lounging on Azamara Pursuit sun beds, it will be a pleasure to get to our B&B where we can lounge about on B&B sunbeds.  I wonder who will bring me my Campari and soda now?

Our taxi driver would fit right into Australia cursing the traffic conditions and the close scraped cars.  I assume it was cursing but its all Greek to me.  Our Opal people mover is brand new and air conditioned and our entertainment a mixture of Katy Perry, Greek pop and inane rap.  Pretty much like being in a taxi in Melbourne.  The 130kph speed limit its making up for the earlier traffic jam and the car yards have been replaced by cement factories.  I now know where the saying "I came, I saw, I concreted" originated.

Rose met us at the door to our home for the next week. The others ooh'd and ah'd over the spectacular seaside panorama while I was impressed by the Campari glasses and cocktail shaker.  A wooden bowl of multicoloured worry beads seemed superfluous.  The foibles of the apartment's electricity were explained at great length before we shoehorned our luggage down the narrow spiral suitcase.  What goes down....

The Hotel Pappas Taverna was but a short walk towards the Gulf of Corinth.  Obligatory, the cat, wound itself around the legs of my chair mewing for tidbits.  "Don't look at me, I haven't ordered lunch yet."  It would appear, from our experience, that Greeks love Aussies, tolerate Americans and scorn the English and their snooty delivery.  Not too many Pom's in Greece this summer what with the value of the Pound and Brexit blues.  Waiter George asked where we came from and when we replied "from the apartments above Hotel Pappas" he enthusiastically promoted the live Greek dancing tonight.  A date is a date.

On Board Observances #2

The Azamara Pursuit staff are top shelf, as is the attentive service we receive "Another gimlet Sir?" Initial cynicism is swiftly extinguished, and you can see why people choose to cruise.  From the person polishing the handrails with a toothbrush through to the effusive Captain, staff are invariably cheerful and welcoming.  I don't know how we will cope with the real world.  To quote Kim the cruise experience for 700 passengers is "very well orchestrated."

Excursions commence with a general muster each morning in the Cabaret Room.  The excursions officer welcomes guests and runs through the required arrangements before announcing specific tour departures.  It is at that point that the usual misfits suddenly race up and crowd about the announcer demanding their itinerary grievances be immediately attended to.  "Some people", Chris remarks, "always gumming up the works".  Descending the stairs I overhear an American women state "Some people". Her companion agrees "Some people, must be from New York."

Passengers come from a variety of nations with Americans to the fore followed by Aussies, Brits and a sprinkling of Europeans, Kiwis and Asians.  Baby Boomers represent about 85% of the guest list and the cruise orientation matches that demography.  The piped music in the various lounges is however quite anachronistic and better reflects the Rat Pack fifties rather than the rebellious Swinging Sixties.  Live music is provided by the Pursuit Band and the Select Singers (ick!!) and The Riviera Sounds who taught me how to "One, two Cha, cha cha!."

Upon your return from an excursion or a city visit, cruise staff are positioned to assist your return to the vessel.  Cold towels are provided for your refreshment and sorbets (with liquor options) or fruit juices welcome you before re-embarking.  Security is rigid and our departure and return is recorded ~ they don't want to lose anyone.  On board, I find it disturbing that so many seemingly intelligent adults want to bake themselves every day.  How dark a tan do you want?  It's obvious the Slip Slop Slap campaign wasn't adopted in other countries.

Many passengers are quite ancient and I doubt they could explore unaided, even if accompanied by walking stocks.  The daily newsletter advises prospective excursionists (sic) of the walking conditions and that sometimes people have to walk up to half a kilometer.  They won't achieve the recommended target of 10,000 steps that way!  And what is it with the backpacks sporting multiple bottles of water?  Are they auditioning for the role of domestics on the next Tour de France?

Returning from our trek into beautiful Paros, I remarked "Quite a few passengers are wearing hearing aids."  "What?" replied Kim cupping her ear.  She's a funny girl.

NAPOLI

I had been anticipating Naples for some time and had kept receiving advice, mostly negative.  "It's dirty".  "It's full of pickpockets".  The sole positive was "eat the pizza" , a plan reinforced by the proprietor at Kingston Foreshore's Molto Restaurant who provided me with a recommendation for a specific parlour.

The Naples train station was a hive of activity offsetting the streets around Piazza Garibaldi that appeared strangely deserted.  Even the pickpockets were absent.  Kim's arrangement for a taxi was spot on and we were soon dicing with death.  "Surely he's not going to squeeze through there!". Yep, he was and that was simply the entree.  Our B&B was located in the Spanish Quarter, a rat's warren of ascending vias crowded on both side by parallel parked and scraped small vehicles.  Motor scooters swerved out of the taxis' way before he deposited us in front of an imposing wooden gateway that opened to give us entry to the classically elegant Palazzo Della Principessa.

An address like that is either a front for somewhere ordinary or we have struck gold.  Gold it is!  Located on the fourth floor our plant encased balcony looked internally onto a courtyard and externally onto the crowded mean streets of Quartieri Spagnoli ~ the Spanish Quarter.

Depositing our luggage, we departed down via San Mattia in search of beverages, pizza and humanity.  Humanity it was!  We had arrived in Napoli on the public holiday Ferro Agosta which explained the deserted streets.  There was nothing deserted about via Toledo which teamed with Neopolitans moving in mass, walking and of course talking in unison.  Love, lunch and everything in between was the topic and our antipodean demure frequently left us adjusting our trail.  Let's have a drink, we're blocking the traffic.  Armed military and police officers were armed to the teeth and it would have been a foolish pickpocket to try his or her chances.

Via Formale led us up to a trattoria preparing for the evening session where cooking and wait staff were eating at the adjacent table.  Pasta, bread and beers were being consumed while a constant stream of bantering Italian invective was being swapped.  Taking the hint we finished our Aperol Spritz and turned back in the direction we hoped would lead home.  Whoops, we missed our street and ended up in Piazza del Plebiscito where a crowd gathered around a flamenco guitarist and sang lustily of lost love and hard fought Spanish liberty.

Showered and refreshed we hit the vias in search of dinner. 

On Board Observances

Holidaying overseas gives you the opportunity to observe the habits of different people and cultures.  European countries are forever fascinating because of the ingrained habits of centuries eg the politeness of the French greeting "Bonjour madam/monsieur" prior to any transaction, the Italian shared conversations at machine-gun pace, the English reserve. 

It is therefore fascinating to observe the travelling American close up.  Despite my six decades I am yet to visit the USA, so eleven days and nights cruising the Agean Sea is my first experience of their men and women en masse at close quarters.  The ship's demography is overwhelmingly post WWII the infamous Baby Boomers, and the cruise is designed with our generation in mind.  Breakfast choices are interesting and foreign to the Australian palate.  Hash browns have become a part of our culture but creamed wheat, pork patties and corn beef hash have previously only been encountered in popular American media like McHale's Navy and MASH.

Apparel is very interesting with ladies of indeterminate age frequently clad in pedal pushers reminiscent of my Aunt Bonny.  Sportswear is very popular as are T-shirts proclaiming their college affiliation or previously visited tourist destinations.  Men invariably wear polo shirts tucked into walk shorts and clinched "high-waist Harry" style with belts.  This was captured beautifully in the Tom Hanks movie Larry Crown where his home decor, hair style and wardrobe were updated by his friends.

The American trophy wife abounds, usually gym tight thin with blonde or silver hair either sleek pompadour or ponytail.  "Bob" or "Al" or "Bill" nondescript but definitely loaded.  Moustaches are ubiquitous and frequently matching that of Trump's war warrior John Bolton.

There are, apart from our sartorial selves (yuk, yuk), a number of very elegant couples.  A Spanish husband and wife (I assume) distinctly sophisticated ~ She immaculately coiffeured and frequently clad entirely in white, and he moustacioed and probably a television talk show host.  Another (possibly English) are standouts ~ he is also sporting a mo, handled barred and silver and affecting a Mediterranean wardrobe, and she a stern Amazonian with an amazing tan and ever present  notebook and cigarette.

The smokers are an uncomfortable clique, quarantined in a small enclave off the pool deck.  The Pool Bar is well attended whilst waiters are engaged serving the prostrate multitudes reclining on sun lounges.  "No reservations" is the rule and lounges are scarce soon after breakfast. The prevailing wind is blocked by glass panelling with only the occasional humid gust fluttering the pages of novels opened on snoozing bellies.

Bluesfest 2019 Thursday and Good Friday

Melody Angel was presenting her steely version of the blues at the Juke Joint stage as we arrived.  Melody's imposing presence and her powerful and evocative "true blues" reveal her wide range of influences (Hendrix, Santana, Slash).  Passing by Delta, Samantha Fish sounded interesting and will be worth a future visit.  However, it being first night, we continued along the midway perusing the 2019 'fest setup and were pleased to see the beverage concessions have been significantly improved.  No need any longer to credit-load RFID wrist bands and a greater range of decent and reasonably priced wines, beer and spirits.  In addition Festival goers have access to craft beers and alternate wine outlets.  It is evident that Bluesfest have listened to their audience and have ironed out many of the annoying aspects of attendance.  

Next stop Mojo where Alternate music favourite Kurt Vile was playing his first Bluesfest.  The former War on Drugs guitarist played selections from his albums including the recent collaboration with Courtney Barnett "Lotta Sea Lice".  Sounding very similar to his records he hid behind a curtain of hair and the stage shadows.  I have to admit I prefer Kurt when he is diluted by Courteney Barnett.

Jambalaya was full-on Aussie tonight with Russell Morris, Richard Clapton and the Black Sorrows making their only appearances before sizeable appreciative audiences.



In my opinion the nights' major attraction was Little Steven and The Disciples of Soul. Steve Van Zant of Sopranos fame and long time ally of Bruce Springsteen led a 15 member ensemble complete with a five piece brass section and your genuine sassy backing chorus. Fabulous!  The performance commenced with "Sweet Soul Music" by Arthur Conley.   "Do you like good music?"  Yeah Yeah!  

This was one of those heroic performances that rank up there with previous Bluesfest performances by Funkadelic and John Fogarty.  Steven's reputation as a true fan was evident with his in between song patter where he referred to Motown 

Bluesfest  T-shirts

Six60 Ocean Alley

Grafton Sir John Kerr

Tow truck  Customer parking


Blanch's bus service or Chris' minivan service?  The $5 beers available on Chris sold it.

Chris' spotify (everything from Murtceps to Donna Summer) powered Good Friday morning until it was wine o'clock.  Despite dreadful traffic our traditional Holy Thursday trip to the Ballina fish shop has proven the goods with tip top prawns,oysters and sashimi on offer at lunch.