Tag Archives: Cityscape

Day 12 – It is a Hvar, Hvar better thing that we do

September 26th. Today’s destination was the island – and the town – of Hvar, the sunniest island in the Croatian archipelago, with 2,718 hours of sunshine a year (over 7.5 hours a day on average!). It was a couple of hours sailing from Brač, and, though the bura wind had dropped, we were running before it and its resultant seas, which meant a fair degree of rocking and rolling.

This was actually moderately dramatic at times as it had the seating on deck shifting around – whether people were sitting in them or not.

Perla is 100 feet long, which is too long to be permitted into Hvar harbour, so we anchored in a sheltered location by (and to) a piece of rock which forms part of the Paklinski islands,

and a chap with a motor boat came to take us off for our visit to Hvar town, which enabled a nice view of Perla at anchor.

You get a good overview of Hvar as you approach from the sea

and particularly a splendid view of the fort which overlooks it (and helped protect it during the 16th century).

Indeed, it was the fort – Fortica, locally called Španjola after Spanish workers who help build it during the 15th century – which was our first destination as we explored Hvar. Building it started in 1278 and a new fortress – the one which sheltered the inhabitants during a Turkish Ottoman invasion in 1571 – was built on the site starting in 1551.

It’s a handsome construction

and offers some great viewpoints over Hvar itself,

as well as having on display several artifacts from Greek and Roman times (Hvar’s history actually goes back thousands of years BC). There are also some interestingly-shaped chimneys, reminiscent of the “praying hands” style which we have seen in the Azores.

There’s a walkway which leads between town and fort, offering more great views over Hvar

which we walked and then stepped down

finally arriving at a Benedictine convent, now also a museum named after local poet Hanibal Lucić. The main attraction of the museum is the display of the extraordinarily intricate and fine patterns made by the nuns in Agave (also called Aloe) Lace. The patterns really are breathtakingly lovely.

The lace is made with fibres painstakingly extracted from agave leaves, which are graded for thickness and then woven into these patterns using an unusual needle, which has an eye at each end. Apparently, gloves are needed these days to protect the hands of the nuns from an allergic reaction to the oil in these fibres.

After a well-earned coffee break (which also featured beer), Jane and I went for a wander round Hvar, which is a really attractive place. This being September 26, it was right at the end of the season and so relatively quiet; I’m told that the town has quite a young crowd in during the height of the season and thus can be somewhat raucous. But we liked it and the various views and sights such as: the cathedral;

the main square as viewed from on top of the theatre;

various lion carvings, which are evidence of its Venetian influence;

a lovely tree being propped up on the harbour side;

more interesting chimneys;

the (now neglected) church of St. Mark;

a Franciscan monastery (which still has about three monks in it, we’re told);

(I note with amusement that the statue of the boy in the foreground appears to presage modern fascination with social media); and nice harbourside walks with views of the town and fort.

All too soon it was time for a cocktail and to head back to the boat in the fading light

after which we just had time for a swift one before dinner. The crew played guessing games with us about the fish which formed the main course. It was delicious, but I think no-one (and certainly not I) would have guessed that it was shark – local white shark, apparently, a fish that grows to about two metres long. Dinner was supplemented by some very nice red wine which our two Australian (and clearly oenophile) group members, John and Greg, had generously bought for the meal, so a merry time was had by all.

Tomorrow’s itinerary takes us to Split, and it will be an afternoon visit with different light and hence different photographs from our previous visit. All that will be covered in the next gripping episode. See you there!

Day 8 – Croissant in Croatia, Beef in Bosnia, Dinner in Dubrovnik. Luggage in Limbo

September 22nd. Today should have gone like this:

  • Breakfast at the hotel
  • Taxi to Zadar Airport
  • Drive rented car to Dubrovnik Airport
  • Be transferred to Gulet to meet new group
  • Drinks and Dinner

But it didn’t. It was much more, erm, fun!

Breakfast came and went, as expected. The first variation from the plan came in the form of an extra passenger – our guide, Željko. He needed to get to Dubrovnik to guide another tour group; his only option to get there on time was to catch a bus at 2am. When we heard about that, we suggested that perhaps he might like to come with us, leaving at about 8am. Unsurprisingly, he agreed.

On our taxi ride to the airport, his phone rang, and one didn’t need to understand Croatian to realise that he was receiving bad news. It transpired that he had left vital paperwork back at the hotel – tour notes, vouchers, all the vital stuff that he needed in Dubrovnik for his next group! Fortunately, there was enough slack in our schedule to allow us to take him back to the hotel and then on to Dubrovnik.

So, papers collected, we headed back to the motorway and started the four-hour drive southwards. I was a little concerned about the border crossings we’d need to do through Bosnia, and so my idea had been to ensure we got back into Croatia on schedule before thinking about maybe a rest stop.

However, Željko had other ideas, and suggested that we stop for lunch – in Bosnia! As usual, he had a good suggestion, and so we found ourselves at the Hotel Orka, eating a traditional “Bosnian Pot” – beautifully tender beef chunks and vegetables in a very tasty sauce. As well as the beef, I swallowed my principles and took a photo of my lunch. But I’m not about to go as far as sharing it with you!

After lunch, we set off with (we fondly imagined) enough time to get us to our destination on schedule. We had reckoned without a few factors, though: hitting the border back into Croatia just at shift change time and so sat in a queue to get through for what seemed like an age, but probably wasn’t; being stuck behind camper vans; being stuck behind people on a slow moped. So we arrived at the Sixt car hire return at Dubrovnik airport somewhat late. However, Jane had managed to alert our new tour guide and so the taxi was waiting for us to take us onwards.

“Onwards” was, we found, subject to the vagaries of the weather. Apparently, a strong north wind was in prospect and so our cruise boat – a Turkish gulet – had to plan to leave early to avoid getting trapped in Slano harbour. So, our group were actually on the tour of Dubrovnik that had originally been planned for tomorrow. Amazingly, in the melée that is downtown Dubrovnik on a Saturday afternoon, we found our guide, Filip, and joined him, after he’d given the taxi driver instructions about where to leave our luggage. Filip, in turn, found the rest of our group and we continued with the tour of Dubrovnik old town, with Filip helping the official guide, a lass called Ana, by giving our group lots of historical, geographical and archeological information as we went along.

Memory plays strange tricks. It had been some 11 years since our last visit to Dubrovnik (see the photos here) and I had clearly remembered the difference between the original roof tiles of the old town and the new ones which had been used in the reconstruction after the Serbs had bombed the crap out of the old town in the 1990s Balkan War. But I had remembered the new tiles as being of a uniform colour, and they were clearly not so, now.

(above you can see the brightly coloured modern tiles as well as the faded colours of the originals). So I wondered if these new tiles had started to age and change colour unevenly. But no – it was basically a false memory on my part, as a quick check on Flickr told me. It’s clear that a single or mixed colour is a matter of choice.

The short tour passed some steps which I’m told feature in a certain vastly popular fantasy drama from HBO

but I wouldn’t know anything about that. It also gave us a sharp reminder of what an utter zoo Dubrovnik old town can be… and this is AFTER the cruise ship crowds had left…

…but there were still wedding celebrations going on.

So, tour over, we got on to our bus and headed out to meet up with another van upon which was the group’s luggage. Well, most of it, anyway. Some was missing – ours! Since this included my backpack with virtually all my camera gear in it, I was as worried as Filip was embarrassed. To cut a long story short, they did eventually find our luggage and brought it to the boat quite soon after we got there. Our boat, a gulet called “Perla”, was awaiting the group at Slano harbour, and looked lovely in the evening dark.

We embarked and finally had a chance to get properly introduced to the other nine people in our cruise group over dinner and drinks before turning in for the night. Getting under way early was going to be the order of the morrow in order to get to Korčula and Brač, and that’s what the next gripping instalment will cover. I bet you can’t wait!

Lima – Bean there, done that

10th April 2018

When our plane landed at Lima airport, the cabin crew announced that it was in Callao province, 15 minutes from the centre of Lima.

Hah!

Nowhere in Lima is as short as a 15-minute drive from anywhere else. In Quito, our guide, Paul, warned us about the traffic, but no warning can prepare you for the reality. The congestion is bad, but I’ve seen worse (downtown Bangkok, London near the ExCel when they close the Blackwall tunnel); however add in the local driving style, and that makes a ride through the traffic an exciting and thrilling experience. Our entire journey from the airport was one long game of chicken, a distracting backdrop to the (actually very useful) information that our guide was giving us about our schedule whilst in Peru.

It seems that some preparation for altitude is necessary (and Sunvil had arranged a smooth increase in altitude across successive destinations, from Lima (sea level) via Sacred Valley (2400m) to Machu Picchu (2800m) to Cusco (2400m) to Lake Titicaca (3800m – the last time I was that high was in the Swiss Alps, and the simple effort of walking along a corridor carrying skis made little spots dance before my eyes). So we were given this advice to mitigate altitude sickness:

  • Drink plenty of water
  • Avoid drinking coffee and eating meat
  • Eat fish and cooked vegetables
  • Drink coca tea or chew coca leaves
  • Above all, take it easy

The last one is within my DNA; let’s see how the others work.

In the hotel is a sign that might give your average European traveller pause:
Warning notice in the hotel

Our schedule included a morning tour of Lima, and we had a very charming guide called Hernando to show us around. It became clear that Lima, unlike many other capital cities, was not going to be very easy to get a flavour of. We actually spent two hours of the three-and-a-half sitting in traffic, while Hernando alternately regaled us with information about the history and culture of Lima and Peru and indicated points of interest as we ground past them (unable to stop and take photos, unfortunately). There are many handsome buildings dotted around Lima that date from one or two centuries ago. Unfortunately, the space between these buildings has been taken up with many more modern buildings which are (a) ugly, (b) tatty and (c) in many cases unfinished. Rather like London, really, but much, much scruffier and without the rain.

The first thing Hernando showed us was a pre-Inca site for which preservation efforts are being made – a huge pyramidal ceremonial site made out of adobe bricks. (We later got a chance to take a couple of photos.)

Pre Inca Ruins Huaca Pucllana

The Incas were known as builders who thought big, but they came relatively late to this part of the world, and various tribes had been here for three or four thousand years before they came, and it was they who built this site, and many others around Lima, since destroyed. And then, of course, came the Spanish, led by Pizarro, who built and declared Lima as the capital and ruled the area until Peru declared independence in 1822. The time of Spanish rule is referred to as the “colonial” period, and the centre of Lima does represent an opportunity to walk around and see some of the highlights. These include the very handsome main square, with the cathedral

Lima Cathedral

the Mayor’s offfice

Mayor's office, Lima

and other significant buildings such as the Presidential Palace (from the 1930s, too big and ugly to be worth a photo). Other buildings we saw included the old railway station, now a literary centre of some kind,

The old railway station in Lima

and the old Post Office, now lined with tat stalls, but not without its charm.

The old Post Office Building in Lima

However, a large chunk of the 90 minutes spent walking around in Lima was spent at the Franciscan monastery, which, rather like the one in Quito, is large, imposing and which forbids photography. However, the ban is poorly policed and so I sneaked a few phone shots. There are cloisters

Cloister with carved ceiling

surrounding a peaceful garden.

Monastery courtyard

and used to store some impressive processional items.

Processional equipment

The inside of the church is striking

Church interior

and, off to the side, in the choir, were some beautifully-carved pews where the monks could study their magnificently-illuminated texts – supported by small perches called “misericordia” (mercy) rather than having to stand for hours.

Misericordia in the Choir

In exhibition cases were a couple of original examples of illustrated texts. They are things of beauty, but what particularly entranced me was the early musical notation included with the texts .

Original music for plainsong chant

There was a macabre element to our visit as we visited the catacombs, where, at one stage, up to 35,000 (poor) people were buried (the rich could afford their own mausolea, of course). Actually, the available spaces had been filled, (brick-built compartments filled with levels of bodies covered in earth and lime) to the point where the bodies (or what remained of them, ie skulls and large bones) had been exhumed, ready to start again, when the use of the catacombs was discontinued. So there were bones, bones, bones everywhere, laid out in chests, used in decoration on staircases

Macabre scenes in the catacombs

and even in a well!

Macabre scenes in the catacombs

After our morning with Hernando, we visited a large, underground shopping centre called Locarmar, on the edge of the cliffs and not too far from our hotel.

LarcoMar Shopping Centre

There we had a nice lunch at a nice eatery called Tanta, a place which was fairly unique in that it served no wine (but the pisco sours were excellent, and it offered local-ish Cusqueña beer, which was quite palatable); and the kitchen was sufficiently broken that they couldn’t offer the dish they described as being their most popular – lomo saltado, a beef stir-fry. But we managed to find a few local dishes that they could serve (Jaranita Criolla, a sharing dish with various appetisers and Tacutacu a la Pobre, which was fried surloin steak in batter, with a fried banana, topped with a fried egg and served on a bed of fried rice – actually very lovely but too vast to finish).

So passed our time in Lima. In principle, it would have been nice to see a wider variety of city sights outside just the colonial quarter, but it’s so difficult to get around that it’s simply not possible in a single day; but it was good to have got the historical and cultural background from Hernando, as well as his despairing commentary about the difficulty of ever finding a political leader who wasn’t corrupt, and so we were able to leave with at least a flavour of the place.

Our departure was in parts amusing and frustrating. In normal cities, to drive to an airport, you get on to the relevant motorway which leads you smoothly and directly to the departure terminal. Unsurprisngly this is not so in Lima. The official route from our hotel (the Crowne Plaza in Miraflores) to the airport, according to a search engine of your choice, seemed to be straightforward – along the coast, up a major highway and into the airport – 13 km and 30 minutes.

Hah!

We did spend some time going along the coast, which emphasised Lima’s odd geography, as the city itself is at the top of a clifff that’s up to 100m high, with a long beach area at the bottom. But then our driver appeared to go off on one. If we han’t been accompanied by a rep from our travel organisation, I would have feared for my life, or perhaps just my bank balance, as we went up narrow streets, through car parks, and round the back of some very dodgy-looking estates, all the time playing the national game of traffic chicken.

Anyhoo…we got to the airport in only just under an hour, dropped our bags and headed into the departure lounge, hoping to get away from the pandemonium of landside Lima airport. All we did was move into the pandemonium of airside Lima airport, which featured a single coffee lounge with all available seats taken, and no other refreshment possibilities. We eventually were given a gate, so went there and managed to find somewhere to sit. Then a gate change was announced, so we trudged to the new gate. Then, and only then, was a flight delay of over an hour announced – and a later Cusco flight’s passengers were directed to our original gate; heaven knows what fate awaited them. Quite what byzantine processes and intricate relationship between airline and airport can lead to this particular chain of events is beyond me (mind you, it was foggy as hell outside). A further annoyance was that the delay meant my free WiFi ran out and I had to pay to stay online. Honestly, it’s shocking.