Ten Years

Happy birthday blog. Ten today. Cripes. Ten years since I put up an irreverent nite as Traveller Cliche - a joke that only one of my friends would get - which is pretty far reaching given the ten years of posts since.

So ten years. There's been a whole lot of travelling in that time. And a whole lot of mini adventures. The posts have eased off a bit in recent months as I've tried my hand at adulting - guess that's what a decade does to you. I'm a bit rubbish at adulting, turns out I was far better at being a perpetual kid. Who would have thought?

And the adventures are still there. Had an adventure to Hampshire to watch Hellrunner this weekend (I was supposed to do it but had to bail at the nth hour due to falling apart - another down side of being ten years older than I was in 2008) then followed it up with some Sara Pascoe shaped comedy, which made for a mighty pleasant Saturday.

And it seems that I'm still reading enough. The last four books I've read have all been ace in very different ways:

The Survival Game - Nicky Singer. It's been a while since I read any post-apocalyptic YA fiction, this hit the spot.

Children of Blood and Bone - Tomi Adeyemi. Wasn't sure about the fantasy at the start but everyone loves an allegory. 

My Absolute Darling - Gabriel Tallent. A brutal book, wasn't easy going but crikey.

Home Fire - Kamila Shamsie. felt like I was a bit behind the curve with this one, but made me do a whole heap of thinking about things that I've never really thought about.

Southwold

I don't know, no blog action for a month and then a return to the Suffolk Coast. Boring.

Southwold. That's a place. A place I've been before but remember almost nothing about it - just fish and chips on the beach. Turns out it's the Waitrose of seaside resorts. Delis and galleries a-go-go and probably the most avant garde collection of slot machines I've ever seen.

We skittered along the coast doing smash and grabs of Suffolk Towns:

Aldeburgh - again sonewhere I'd been before but had even less memory of. Pebble beach.

Thorpe Ness - somewhere I'd heard of but definitely could not gave pointed to on a map - I would have guessed the South Coast. Shingle beach.

Warbleswick - cute as a button village on sand dunes. Fluffy sand.

___________

Weirdest food - whelks. Not very Waitrose - I could have stuck with the truffle infused brie or the fennel pork scratchings, but no, I tried whelks. Turns out they aren't my new favourite.

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.

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.

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

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.

Those Flaws Almost Made Them Greater

It's been a while since I've been to the theatre. Gone is the regular once-a-fortnight theatre visit, replaced instead with the sporadic visits to those things-that-you-really-should-see. With that in mind, I went to see Harry Potter and the Shameless Money-making Opportunity, or whatever it is actually called.

First off, let's just say the stage craft was spectacular, to get that out the way. It really was.

Given that I had read the script a couple of years back and could remember almost nothing about it I'm surprised that I was disappointed in the story. It was just a contrived, over-long non-story. A clunky device to allow the "best" Harry Potter characters to be revisited. A grab-bag of lazy, self-indulgent references.

And don't get me started on the fact that it was two parts, neither of which could be stand alone.

Still the stage craft was spectacular. But if I just wanted spectacle I'd have gone to the circus.