Monday, 17 September 2018

A Bee, Sea

Ten, maybe twelve years ago someone told me how they really liked Felixstowe, ever since then I've kind of wanted to check it out (Obviously, the fact that it's taken a decade does indicate that it was never that high on my list of priorities, but hey ho).

It started well enough, with a port and a fort and a nature reserve - who doesn't love a container ship? They are massive. But by the time you got to the centre it was all a bit underwhelming. Probably my own fault in that I'd built it up to be a quirky, hotchpotch of a town, without anything at all to justify that expectation. But that's what I'd done.

What I basically expected Felixstowe to be was Lewes. And it wasn't. Fortunately the next day I ended up having to kill time in Lewes. And Lewes was exactly like Lewes, which was nice. Somewhere buzzing with character and identity, even at 8am on a Sunday morning - is that an antiestablishment thing? In your face expectation, we're getting up early on Sunday. Fight the Power.

Thursday, 13 September 2018

Eels Eels Eels Eels

I've had some unexpected time off. Turns out unexpected time off is weird, you want to make the most of it but there are so many possibilities it is almost daunting. Anyway, I used the time to potter about East Anglia, seeing some of those things that I've taken for granted. And there seems to have been a very eely twist.

Started off in Constable Country: Dedham Vale, Flatford Mill and all. And saw people fishing for eels, I didn't realise that that was still a thing that people did. Turns out it is. Also turns out that that little corner of Essex is more touristy than I'd given it credit for. North Essex is really pretty.

Since then I've cycled to and through a host of pretty Essex vistas and villages: Pattiswick, Wakes Colne, Greenstead Green, Coggeshall, Earls Colne - for my money North Essex is prettier than Constable Country. Constable Country was just full of nettles and straggly thistles. Today's cycle was mainly fuelled by Elvis Waffles from the Little Book Cafe in Halstead.

Sorry I've digressed from the eels. I went to Ely, the City of Eels. I'd not been to Ely before (box ticked) turns out a. it's really pretty and b. It has a marina, which I really wasn't expecting. I should have expected it really. How else are they going to get the eels to market?

Whilst I was in the Ely area I visited Wicken Fen - I didn't really understand what all the fuss is about (probably eels) - give me North Essex any day of the week.

Tuesday, 11 September 2018

Stung

I got stung by a jellyfish. That's one of those tickboxes that I never really meant to tick, but now that it's done I'm more pleased about it than I should be. "Remember that time I got stung by a jellyfish" just seems to have more of a ring to it than "Remember that time we saw puffins". At the very least it's good for a self-indulgent blog entry.

Weirdly, I wasn't even meaning to be in the sea. I was going to sit and read on the pebbled area that constitutes a beach in Riomaggiore whilst Carys put in her tri-practice sea swim. But then she saw not one, but two octopuses (octopi? Mmm octo-pie) which was enough to entice me away from the book. Saw a few flavours of bold fish then felt an unpleasant burn on my elbow.

Now I don't know too much about jellyfish stings - the only person I can remember talking to about them nearly died (presumably because getting a shot of adrenaline to the heart makes for a good, memorable anecdote, whereas mediocre stories like this one, not-so-much) - so I got out of the water as quickly as possible to make it easier for people to administer the adrenaline shot / wee on my arm.

Given that I didn't appear to be dying (or indeed in any pain greater than a wasp sting. I opted against the stranger's urine treatment and went to the Farmacia, who seemed entirely ambivalent. Jellyfish stings, m'eh.

So yeah, relocated to Riomaggiore for the last two nights. That's a peculiar place. Couldn't find any eating opportunities between fast food and Michelin Guide, which meant we spent a lot of time eating mixed seafood from a cone and drinking cheap wine on the terrace.
Had a trip to Manarola, the fifth of the five lands, and maybe the prettiest. Technically we had two trips there, one by kayak which was mighty hard work and another by train, which would have been civilised if we hadn't had an impromptu walk to Volastra - the sixth of the five lands. 

Definitive Cinqueterra ranking:
(6. Volastra)
5. Corniglia
4. Riomaggiore
3. Monterosso
2. Manarola
1. Vernazza

Monday, 3 September 2018

Jiggle My Prickles

Who thought prickly pears would be so prickly? I realised my mistake (I used the paw not the claw, despite the best advice of a cartoon bear) pretty quickly and discarded
the juicy fruit straight away. Even then I was picking prickles from my fingers for twenty-four hours. Always take the advice of cartoon bears, kids.

Anyway, I'm in Cinqueterra. Vernazza to be precise. It's pretty, and colourful and uppy-downy, just like it's supposed to be. It has a multi-use harbour that can be used for watching sunsets, thunderstorms or anchovies. And a big, old walking route full of pretties. 

Made use of the walking route yesterday. Wandered to another two of the five lands. Visited Monterosso al Mare for lunch. That's the most commercial of the five (think sunbeds on the prom) but was way prettier than I expected with its wiggly streets, bold fish and unexpected, aerial graveyard. 

Corniglia is a wonky hat on top of a cliff. It looked spectacular from a distance but when you were in the thick of it, it just seemed a bit, erm, small. Tried the local wine and Italian Grape Ale - where beer and wine meet. Turns out there's a reason that that's not a thing. 

We couldn't fly direct to Cinqueterra so had a cheeky night in Pisa. I went to Pisa twenty years ago, but it was a smash and grab - Duomo, Tower, that photo, done. So I kind of assumed that there wasn't any more to the city than that. Turns out I was wrong: there's picturesque squares, buildings with shutters, hip riverbeach bars and Keith Haring's Totomundo painted on the end of a terrace. So apologies Pisa, I was quick to dismiss you. You're alright.