Tag Archives: Cityscape

Well Empressed with Victoria

Saturday 20 August 2022 – The plan for the day was pretty straightforward – catch a coach to take us to a ferry to take us across the Straits of Georgia to Victoria, on Vancouver Island, dead south of Vancouver city itself.

A coach duly appeared and we climbed on board, to find that we were the first passengers to be picked up and that there would be several more stops to collect more before we got to the ferry. The driver made the ride very entertaining, and not by the usual means of commentary about landmarks or other tourist matters of interest. Jane immediately picked up from a few spoken words that he was a Brit, and it soon became clearer, even without him saying very much more; it was the way he drove. Drivers in North America, and particularly bus and coach drivers, have a very relaxed way of getting around, waiting patiently at lights or for decently long gaps in the traffic before carrying on. Our driver, Paul, who turned out to be originally from Guildford, drove like a Brit: edging forward at lights before they changed; edging out at junctions and going for small gaps in the traffic; and generally taking no prisoners as he swung the bus around.

As well as that, since we were sitting just behind him, we could hear the muttered commentary he was making about other road users as he went along. It didn’t help that his efficiency – for he was undoubtedly an experienced and competent driver – got him to the cruise terminal for his penultimate pickup some ten minutes early, so he sardonically explained that he was driving round the blocks to pass the time, and wasn’t actually lost. This is Paul, at his final pickup, where he was impatiently awaiting the final people to turn up and board his bus.

When he was using the microphone to talk to the passengers, Paul was (largely) exemplary and free from editorialising. But in other places, when pedestrians were slow to cross the road, or when other drivers dithered or drove erratically, his subvocalised comments were very pithy. The ferry terminal was chaos because several sailings had been cancelled due to lack of staff, and his comments about that, and the argument he had with officialdom, contributed greatly to the entertainment value of the ride. The queue of cars, and indeed of hopeful passengers waiting to board, was not insignificant.

Paul’s view was that not everyone would be allowed on board our ferry, and that we should give ourselves a pat on the back for being on the bus, which had a guaranteed place.

The ferry we rode was a big one, capable of carrying over 2,000 passengers. For most of it, we simply sat in a lounge, though the coffee that Jane went to buy was very welcome and the chat we had with a chap called Bob, originally from Manchester some 40 years ago, was diverting. Also somewhat disconcerting was a sign at each urinal in the gents.

Sources tell me that these signs were up in the ladies, too.

After an hour or so of crossing open sea, we neared land and popped out to take a couple of photos.

Paul found out that there was a big bicycling event, the Tour de Victoria, on, for which local roads in downtown Victoria would be closed, so, in his characteristic way he set our expectations low about how much fun the journey would be. However, in the end, the roads he needed to use to get to his drop off points were eerily quiet, so he reached the grandly-named Capital City Bus Station with ease. This actually turned out to be no more than a place where three buses could pull up behind each other, but no matter. From our point of view it was Our Stop and so we collected our luggage and wheeled it round to the front of our hotel, an enormous slab of masonry called the Fairmont Empress.

Outside, it had lawns of great lushness – a distinct contrast from the dried up turf we’d seen elsewhere – and inside a sizeable reception atrium.

Our room is nice enough; not huge, but with rather a decent view over the harbour.

Our original plan had been to take it easy for the rest of the day, as we have a couple of days here getting up to various things. But the weather was so lovely that we couldn’t resist going out for a quick walk around and to check up on where we had to check in for those activities. We passed a harbourside restaurant called Milestones, which could fit us in in about 10 minutes, so we used that time to wander about and take a couple of photos of an undeniably photogenic location.

At lunch, one of the gins on offer was Empress Gin. The name is not a co-incidence; apparently the Empress Hotel collaborated in its elaboration, and provide the pea blossoms that enable it to turn colour from its naked state

when you add tonic.

(Empress Hotel in the background – see what we did there?)

After lunch we wandered round some more. There was Something Going On whilst we were lunching which involved some really quite ghastly screeching and caterwauling that was accompanied by a band. Someone clearly fancied themselves as Clare Torry, but “The Great Gig In The Sky” it was not. Fortunately this unfocussed keening was eventually replaced by something a bit more ear-friendly, so we wandered over to gawk. The source turned out to be a part of Victoria’s first ever BIPOC music festival. BIPOC means Black, Indigenous and People of Colour and the festival is an event by BC Black History Awareness Society.

We also visited the Netherlands Centennial Carillon, cunningly arriving there just as it struck 5.

There are 11 carillons in Canada. I don’t know why.

I think we’re rather going to like Victoria – certainly around the harbour area, it’s very attractive, and there are any number of interesting statues around,

even in the very edges of steps and lawns.

Cars are not the only mode of transport

and there are some lovely displays of flowers and topiary by the Empress.

There was a nice sunset

and when darkness fell, we took a further wander to see if what we had been told earlier, that the Legislature Building was nicely illuminated at night, was true.

Since we were out (and, to be frank, since the noise from the festival was going to stop us from getting any sleep) we extended our walk along Government Street, which was extremely lively.

Even as late as 9.30pm, many shops were open

and, it being Saturday night, there was a great buzz about the place. Thankfully by the time we had finished our meanderings the loud festival music had stopped!

We shall discover more over the next couple of days. We have a couple of formal tourist activities planned, but it looks like there’s much scope for wandering around and stumbling across good things. So please check in to see what we got up to and what we found.

We discouver Vancouver

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Thursday 18 August 2022 – The disembarkation from Silver Muse was a smooth and well-organised process. We’d expected to be able to disembark at 0945, but actually it was just before 9am when we emerged blinking into the Vancouver cruise terminal. We picked up our bags and (probably jay-)walked across the road to the Fairmont Waterfront where, as expected, our room wasn’t ready for us yet. However, quelle surprise!, the application of a few dollars to upgrade got us immediately installed in a nice double aspect room, with one window looking out at the port and the other at Coal Harbour. The receptionist, François, gave us a lunchtime recommendation, a place called Cardero’s, and generally was very nice, as he should be, having scored a few extra dollars for the hotel.

After a certain amount of sitting around and drawing breath (me) and organising confirmations for our entertainments tomorrow and the day after (Jane), we got the hotel to book us a late lunch at this Cardero’s place and then did what we always do under these circumstances, which is to get out and blunder around the local streets to get a feel for the place. And by and large, Vancouver has a nice vibe to it.

The first objective was Gastown, the original settlement that became the core of the city of Vancouver, named for “Gassy” Jack Deighton, a Yorkshire seaman, steamboat captain and barkeep who arrived in 1867 to open the area’s first saloon. He was famous for his habit of talking at length (or “gassing”), and the area was designated a national historic site in 2009. It is a mix of “hip” contemporary fashion and interior furnishing boutiques, tourist-oriented businesses (generally restricted to Water Street), restaurants, nightclubs and newly upscale housing.

It has statues, like this Angel of Victory, dedicated to the men who perished in the two world wars,

the justly famous Gastown Steam Clock,

quirky shops,

(who knew there were so many musical genres?) and its own Flatiron building

which seems to me to have a multiple snarl on its “face”. There is also poverty –

this is a public washroom; a couple of police officers we met later suggested that we should have avoided the area, actually. We also saw some homeless people and others who were clearly not well off. But overall, like all of the areas of Vancouver we wandered through, it’s a pleasant area.

Vancouver has a significant Chinatown, with an impressive gateway

but a useless abacus, as you couldn’t move the counters; and it has real, electric trolleybuses of the sort which were phased out in the UK just before people realised what a good idea they are.

There’s no shortage of interesting buildings

and other notable sights, such as this mosaic referring to the great Vancouver fire of 1886.

We saw one unusual window cleaning exercise in progress

and visited a cathedral (Holy Rosary, Batman!)

and, as we left it, we caught sight of the Lookout Tower

which gave us an idea.

It costs a bit to go up, but the view is great. For example, you can see from on high how cramped that cathedral is.

Having wandered around the Lookout level, we thought we’d try it on and went up to the revolving restaurant on the level above, to see if they would give us coffee. We were in luck! They were feeling charitable and so we sat whilst we watched Vancouver wag by for an hour. This is how it looks if you compress that to 45 seconds.

It was then getting towards the time we’d decided on for lunch so we walked along the waterfront to Cardero’s. It’s a nice walk along the waterfront, past an interesting water feature/fountain thingy,

an art installation called The Drop,

the flight harbour

(the novelty of seeing float planes taking off and landing wears off pretty swiftly here) and the marina at Coal Harbour

which is where you can find Cardero’s.

We were initially served by Ricky Gervais, who is moonlighting over here and has pretty much perfected his Canadian accent.

He is operating under the alias “Travis” but we saw through him.

Seriously, he did a splendid job of making us feel welcome and then handed us over to a colleague, Katy, who also did a fine job. The food was excellent, as was the general ambience. I really commend the place to anyone seeking lunch or dinner. (Our table was booked at 4pm, which is a late lunch for us; by local standards, though, it counts as an early dinner.)

We pottered (tottered?) back to the hotel afterwards, pretty much retracing our steps. The route has a walkway and segregated cycle track, which is a great idea. We saw some people on one-wheel electric scooters of some kind,

a bush that had grown into a Thing that might have come from the Muppets stable,

and a bizarre shack on stilts.

Who knows what the story is behind that? It may be an art installation, which would certainly fit in with the generally gentrified vibe of Coal Harbour.

We didn’t exactly retrace our footsteps, because Jane wanted to see the Olympic Cauldron by the convention centre.

It became clear that Something Was Going On there as everyone was dressed in white.

and it was obviously popular as there was a queue,

We discovered later that this was a Diner En Blanc event, the first one staged in Vancouver since 2019. At the last minute, a secret location is revealed to thousands of people who have all been patiently waiting to learn where “Dîner en Blanc” will take place. Thousands of people then meet for a mass “chic picnic” in a public space. It had a lovely atmosphere.

We got back to the hotel where the delight of finding a kettle in the room was somewhat countered by the horror of discovering that there were no cups. Jane whistled up room service and asked for large mugs, and milk, so we could have tea, and the nice chap who was helping us brought us some absolutely huge cups – probably normally used for soup, but more than adequate for the job of getting some Twinings Earl Grey into us in suitable quantity,

And that was it for our amble round Vancouver. Tomorrow will be more structured, as we’ll be carted around in a coach so that we can Do Tourist Things. Exactly what, you’ll have to come back and find out.

Day 2 – In the Amman City of Jordan’s capital

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Monday 16 May 2022 – A shorter day beckoned, although you’ll see from the number of photos in this entry that the intensity didn’t diminish much from yesterday. However, we didn’t have to get under way until 10am, when we met our driver, Saeed (since we now have his card, we know how to spell his name properly; but I’m not going back to correct the joke), and our guide for the day, Marwan, and set out to explore Amman. As it turned out, we did the itinerary in the reverse order of what Audley had described in our literature, but since we hadn’t really read that, it didn’t really make much difference.

Our starting point was the Citadel of Amman, the city’s historic and archeological centre. Marwan gave us a long, detailed and complex run down of the cultural influences that have formed Jordan and Amman. The highlights are summarised on some monoliths just by the Citadel entrance, which trace the naming of the city as the various cultures came and went:

Rabbath & Ammon – Iron & Bronze Ages and the Greeks
Philadelphia – the Romans and the subsequent Byzantine period when they converted (Christianity, rather than North Sea Gas)
Amman – the arrival of Muslims and the Ottomans.

(Round the corner on this patch is a stone dedicated to, inter alia, the British influence which started after World War I. Several of the key letters have fallen off this one, so, for example, it would appear to start with the “itish Mandate” from 19AD – 1946AD.)

The cultural roots of Jordan are utterly bewildering, as wave after wave of nationalities have washed over the place and left some influences and picked up others. Arabs of many persuasions, Muslims, Turks, Kurds, Bedouin of all sorts of nationalities, and even Gypsies (of three different types, apparently) have come and either gone or stayed and this makes Jordan a real melting pot. The Citadel, however, displays principally its Graeco-Roman roots.

It being a Citadel, it’s on top of a hill to maximise its defensive chops, and so you can get a great view over the old city of Amman – “old” in this case meaning from about the last century.

There’s an obvious exception to the “last century” tag bang in the middle of that picture – the Theatre – and we’ll come to that later. But Marwan did educate us on one point of subtlety about its construction which gives away its Greek roots. When Romans built theatres, they made them self-contained, stand-alone constructions, whereas the Greeks tended to build them based on and incorporated into natural features such as a hill; you can see this is the case with Amman’s Theatre. We visited it later so there are more photos below.

A couple of other things about the old city of Amman. Firstly, its colour, or, rather, lack of it. The buildings are of a uniform sandy colour, and this is mandated. The idea is that it should not differentiate itself too much from the hills upon which it is built. Secondly is something you might not even notice until someone points it out, and then you can’t unsee it: white tanks on top of all of the buildings.

These are water tanks, and the reason they’re needed is that water is only pumped to any one area of the city on one day a week. So each building gets to fill its tank, but this has to last for seven days.

Our route round the Citadel took us past the Temple of Hercules

and then further on past the remains of an episcopal church.

Marwan pointed out that this was a view over the religious history of the city from pagan to Christian. The site also had a palace from the Ummayad period (8th Century), which had a stone roof until an earthquake did for it; a team of visiting Spanish archaelogists (there’s a strong connection with Andalucia as this became part of the Ummayad caliphate) subsequently built a wooden dome clad in lead.

The varied cultural roots of Jordan continue in the details of the decoration of the stonework inside the building.

If you look carefully, you can see a cross between the two arches, betraying Christian influences.

As we walked outside, we were distracted from all this cultural hoo-hah by the appearance of a lark

and, delightfully, a hoopoe.

The next stage on the journey round the Citadel was the museum, which contains all sorts of historical artefacts from all over the Arab world. I’m not, frankly, much into the detail, but a couple of things stood out.

Lovely bowls, yes, but – Tupper ware? If someone reading this knows any credible historical reason why this is not a mis-translation, please answer in the comments section. There were some striking clay coffins

seen here with the alarm sensor that Jane triggered when gesturing to a detail on the coffin. But the minders let us off with a mild beating and we went on our way.*

We returned to the car and Saeed took us on a short drive so we could see the old town, which is exactly as colourful, hectic and chaotic as you would expect from having seen how they drive over here.

We actually started this part of the tour by going to the Theatre (behind us in this shot) but simply getting across the road was an act of derring-do.

The Theatre. Ah, yes, the Theatre, originally built between 138 and 161 CE, during the rule of the Antoninus Pius. It’s massive – seats 6,000 apparently.

Marwan, ever a source of intriguing nuggets, told us that one of the ways that historians calculate the number of inhabitants of a Roman city was based on the size of the theatres.

Before we got to clamber up all those steps, we looked into the two small museums on the Theatre site, the Jordan Folklore Museum and The Jordanian Museum of Popular Traditions. In the latter of these, we had a bizarre encounter with two young Arab ladies who spotted what a big camera I had and wanted me to take their picture with it. Trouble is, they spoke no English. Jane got Marwan to translate and even he was struggling to understand what they wanted, since they originally wanted Jane in the picture as well. That was a non-starter.

It turned out that they wanted to be photographed with a tourist so they could show off their cultural credentials, presumably to their mates on Instagram; but they couldn’t grasp the technicalities of transferring a picture from my Nikon to their phones and for some reason didn’t want to use either of their phones (both iPhones, I might add, so would have been perfectly capable of providing a picture). So, here they are, immortalised on a platform that will be read by literally one or two people. Probably Jane and me.

After we agreed that we couldn’t (wouldn’t) help them, we looked around the rest of this museum, the folklore one,

which included a model of a chap selling a liquorice drink, which Jane found rather fetching.

For myself, I was taken with a display that included music instruments.

Bottom left you see implements for grinding coffee, which was a rhythmic exercise, thus often done to music.

The other museum had some examples of mosaic work and also further models of costumes, including a Bedouin Police Uniform

designed, apparently, by the British. I never satisfactorily understood how that happened.

And so to the Theatre itself. Of course we had to climb all the way to the top. There were many, many steps, not all of them completely safe. But the view from the top was quite something

and then all we had to do was to clamber down again, a process which would sting quite badly if one got it wrong. Happily, we made it to the bottom unscathed, and carried on our walk into the bowels of Amman Old Town. Again, crossing the road to get there was far more dangerous than anything we’d encountered on the Theatre steps. It’s a vibrant, colourful area.

Marwan took us on a small detour through a fruit and vegetable market, which was exactly as noisy, crowded and exotic as you might expect (I never once found a position to stand where I wasn’t in someone’s way within five seconds) with all sorts of fruits and leaves and spices the like of which we knew not.

The final part of the tour, and continuing the cultural induction aspects, was lunch. This was taken in a restaurant called Hashem which seemed to span several properties, but had a very simple offering: pitta bread accompanied by salad and pickles and any or all of falafel, fava beans and hummus. Tea, coffee, coke or water were the available drinks, and everything was served on a plastic sheet with no cutlery or plates or luxuries like that. Basic, it was. Delicious, it was. I even took a photo of it, but it’s more than my life is worth to share it here. After that, Marwan took us for pudding to a shop which is part of a chain called Habiba sweets. The menu is largely incomprehensible, even the bits in English.

Znood set, anyone? Marwan ordered us something that turned out to be coarse kunafeh – shreds of pasta on a cheese base, topped with syrup and ground pistachios. It’s the second from right in this picture

and was, you guessed it, delicious. Vastly calorific, but, hey, we’re on holiday. The shop also sells sweets and has a beautifully-crafted display.

And that was it for the day. Saeed took us back to our hotel where we promptly fell into a siesta, only waking in my case to write about the day before all the details got lost. Quite a few of them did, but I hope there’s enough in the above to have entertained you thus far.

(Later: having slaved over this blog entry, we went down to the hotel bar for a couple of drinks

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and ended up having a very enjoyable chat with the bar staff – some compensation for the extraordinary price for the drinks. You can drink alcohol in Jordan, but it’s not a cheap pastime.

Tomorrow we leave Amman for the next stage of our holiday here. We go to Petra and I hope that the prospect of reading about that in these here web pages will keep you coming back for more, to learn how we got on.

* I’m joking. A chap poked his head round the corner and then went away again.