Changi Airport, Singapore

Hello devoted followers.  This is my last blog of the trip. By tomorrow I'll be back in Auckland.  Can't wait to see my girl!!  We flew into Singapore on an A380.  I'm a convert.  It's a lovely plane.  The whole top deck is Business Class and has about 80 seats.  There were only 20 of us so it felt luxurious.  Cam wasted no time in getting the name and number of the hottest hostie.
We are cooling our heels in Singapore for a few hours, awaiting our connection home.  Looking forward to catching up on what you guys have been up to! xx

London, England - Day 4

 Tea and Coffee (note the tiny ice cream) at Fortnum & Mason

Our wonderful hotel, Le Meridien, in Piccadilly

The Savoy. Swoon!  Utter luxury.  It was closed for 3 years from 2007 - 2010 for major refurbishment and I'm pleased to say they've kept the old world style and glamour.  The Savoy Grill, where we dined, was a big room, cleverly made cosy with dim lighting, rich colours and grand chandaliers.  The menu was similar to The Ivy, and Dad finally got to have his Dover sole (for NZ80!) while the rest of us ate much cheaper things like snails, shrimps, oysters and lamb.  We had a terrific white wine from Stellenbosch, near Capetown, where Robin and I had gone for a wine-tasting.  It was a magnificent dining experience and I can imagine it being a popular place to eat on a cold, winter's evening.

Have spent the morning packing.  Robin had to buy a bigger suitcase.  We now have 4 large pieces between us.  Cam and Dad moved their stuff into our suite, as they had to check out, and we have our room until 6pm.  We all popped over the road to Fortnum & Mason for tea and coffee.  Such a styley place.  I drank Jubilee tea, a special tea for the Jubilee, which came in a pot that delivered about 6 cups of tea.  The others had coffee, which came with a tiny cone of coffee ice-cream clipped to the side of the saucer.  Cool, huh?

Cam is out for lunch with some mates, Robin and Dad are at the Transport Museum, and I am off to Marks & Sparks for some bits and bobs.  It's raining again today.  Getting us used to our return home!

London, England - Day 3

CHINATOWN

The Ivy last night was outstanding.  Classic British cuisine with superb service.  It's a fantastic restaurant for people-watching, and the tables are very close together so conversations can be overheard.  Next to us was a table of three foppish boys, aged 16 - 18 I would say, who ordered very adventurously.  Most of their conversation consisted of "Ya" and "Oh, ya!"

We had another slow start today but that was just as well as the crowds were out in force for the next royal appearance.  Robin and I slipped along to Pimlico to the Tate Britain for the "Picasso in London" exhibition.  It exceeded my expectations.  It was comprehensive and informative and there were some of his very famous paintings like "Child with Dove" and "Three Dancers"  Afterwards we browsed the museum shop.  Museum shops are brilliant in my opinion.  The items are unique and different and I seldom leave without a few purchases (like today).  Near the Tate Britain is a street called Ponsonby Terrace SW1, which made me a little homesick.

We visited Harrods to pick up some jubilee souvenirs, and lunch at the oyster bar in the food hall.  We had the seafood platter which came with caviar (with proper condiments), crayfish, lobster, oysters, prawns and crab, and a small bottle of champagne which complimented it nicely.  It's a wonderful store.  Robin left me to it after lunch, and by the time I re-emerged the rain had set in.

My final destination of the day was the National Portrait Gallery for the exhibition on the queen.  This was a rather disappointing display in 4 tiny rooms with too many people for the space provided.  The exhibition was mostly of iconic photographs with a few grand paintings thrown in.

Walked back to the hotel via Haymarket.  The block with NZ House in it was closed off with lots of police lined up outside the building.  I guess John was visiting.

Have managed to get through the entire holiday without a jacket but today I succumbed.  The rain and bitterly cold wind got to me, and I bought myself one from Zara.  I'll wear it on the plane so at least I don't have to worry about packing it.  Lord, if you could only see the explosion of stuff out of my suitcases.  I hate to think how much excess baggage I have.

We are going to the Savoy Grill for dinner tonight, at The Savoy in The Strand.  This is a Gordon Ramsay restaurant, although he isn't the chef there.  It's similar cuisine to The Ivy which will keep Dad happy.  Meat and mash is his mantra.

London, England - Day 2

 Regent Street

The entrance to our suite on the top floor?!  That's just my luggage at the bottom of the stairs.

Spent the day on my own which was nice for a change.  Didn't leave the hotel until 11:30 and decided to shop Regent St and Oxford Street.  Amazingly for me, I didn't buy myself anything. I got Raphe a few bits and pieces from the toy store, Hamleys, as well as some clothes.  A much wider choice for kids here than at home.  I did get to the National Portrait Gallery and had a browse, but I had really wanted to see the special exhibition showing 60 portraits of the queen.  It was sold out for the day so I've booked to see it tomorrow afternoon.  I had a wander around Covent Garden and Trafalgar Square.  There are so many people everywhere.  It's mad.  There is a concert in Buckingham Palace's grounds tonight and they're setting giant screens up in the St James Park/Mall area for people to go and listen if they aren't one of the 10,000 lucky ones to get a ticket in the ballot.

Having a rest now.  Cam, Dad and Robin did the pub lunch experience today, and visited some museums.  We are all meeting up later and having dinner at The Ivy.  I've never been, so I'm looking forward to that.  Will have my camera on hand to photograph any celebrities that might be there.  Cam says we have to dress rich casual - whatever that is.  It's freezing cold, so I'm hoping jeans and sequins will get me in!

London, England - Day 1

 Southwalk Bridge where we sat for 30 minutes until the police let us cross.  At least we were front row!

Just a few of the police that were everywhere.

Arrived in Dover to wet and wild weather.  Just like being home really.  Our drive to London was a breeze. It’s Diamond Jubilee celebrations so it seemed everyone was already where they needed to be.  Getting to our hotel, Le Meridien, was a challenge though.  It’s right on Piccadilly Circus which was closed for the first time in history.  There was only ONE bridge open to traffic crossing the Thames, due to the 1000 boats in the flotilla today, and the 1.2 million people lining the Thames to watch it.  Unfortunately, the one bridge that was meant to be open was closed for a medical emergency.  The police allowed our car to wait on the bridge until it had cleared, and then our poor driver had to find a way to get us close to the hotel.  It took us an hour to travel about 3 kms, but we were finally dropped at Regent Street and then struggled through the crowds with our mountain of luggage.  Robin and I were upgraded to a junior suite - basically a small apartment.  It is cavernous.  We all congregated in our huge living room to watch the flotilla parade on our giant tv, whilst drinking Moet and eating hot hog buns bought from the street.  This was funny as a reporter was on CNN reporting from Piccadilly, talking about the fab hot hog buns (supplied by Le Meridien right outside their front door).   Tonight we are dining at Fergus Henderson’s St John Hotel for a bit of nose to tail eating.  No doubt Dad will have tripe.  Cam and Robin are out somewhere in the rain.  Dad is having a nap.  I am enjoying all this space after our tiny, tiny cabin which I called home for the last 2 months.  

The hotel has given us free tickets to a Picasso exhibition at the Tate, which I plan to visit tomorrow.  My favourite museum is the National Portrait Gallery, just round the corner on Trafalgar Square, so I’ll visit that too.  It’s great to be here!

Le Havre, France

SOME OF OUR LUNCH ON DISPLAY.  DIET STARTS ON JUNE 8TH.

A fraction of the work by Eugene Boudin

Near the port

Don’t know much about Le Havre except it’s France’s second biggest port after Marseille, and that it was pretty much destroyed in WWII.  The city was rebuilt in the 1940s by Auguste Perret, in a somewhat austere manner, and is the first European urban complex from the 20th century to be listed as a world heritage site.

Robin and Dad went off to visit the Normandy beaches, and Cam and I went straight into town for coffee.  This was preceded by a lot of salivating in the central market before finding the busiest cafe (Le Sublim) and ordering cafe au lait avec baby croissant for dunking.

One good cafe deserves a bad one and so next stop was McDonalds.  Ok, this was so Cam could use the free internet, and I could have french fries.  Geddit? When in France, right?

By the time we’d finished there, and drooled our way round a chocolatier, it was time for lunch.  Are you sensing a common theme to our day? We decided to try Le Bistrot des Halles right outside the central market.  Snails, duck terrine, steak tartare, skate wing, and all the stuff that goes with it, together with a pale pink rose.  It was a very leisurely lunch on a warm Saturday afternoon.

Last stop for the day was the very excellent MUMA (Malraux Museum).  What a find.  Le Havre was the birthplace of Impressionism and has the largest Impressionist collection outside Paris.  And not only was entry free, but the audio guide was free too.  It was truly outstanding.  The sort of exhibition that would probably cost $30 to see at home.  I loved it.  In particular, the clever display of work by Eugene Boudin.  Over one hundred paintings in the same frames, all hung along the same wall, all in similar tones and themes.  And, not to wax lyrical, but how did Renoir achieve that glowing luminosity of skin, unique to the people in his paintings.

It’s 6pm now.  Dad and Robin not back yet.  They will be tired and emotionally drained I think.  We arrive Dover early tomorrow and drive to London.  Another big day.  

Before I go, Dad had wanted me to pass on that he won the jackpot in Bingo yesterday.  US$1200!  And Robin won $65.  And I won nothing (but I’m still up around $500 from previous games).  Of course, we celebrated with champagne.  And we were also were given champagne at dinner after Cam found a staple in his bread roll.

Happy Days!

Lisbon, Portugal

 ABOUT TO DOCK.  NICE VIEW FROM OUR CABIN, EH?

 A MARBLE STATUE IN THE CASTLE GROUNDS.

THE OLD ELEVATOR, DESIGNED BY EIFFEL, OR ONE OF HIS STUDENTS.

We arrived in Lisbon at noon.  Usually we get into port at dawn, when I’m asleep (DUH!), so it was nice to be outside, enjoying the sights as we entered the mouth of the River Tagus and headed to our dock further upstream.  We could see many of Lisbon’s famous landmarks from the ship, and we passed under the city’s copy of the Golden Gate Bridge.  Everywhere, there were wide boulevards lined with flowering jacarandas which contrasted splendidly with the terracotta roof-tiles.

It’s a huge city, so Robin and I decided to concentrate on two areas near the ship: Baixa - the shopping district with wide pedestrian walkways. And Alfama - the medieval Moorish district consisting of narrow, winding streets and houses decorated with superb tile work.

By the time we’d walked up Rua Augusta to Rossio Square in Baixa, it was lunch time.  We decided to dine at Nicola, the famous art deco cafe on the square.  The food was pretty average but we got to watch the world go by for an hour or two, listen to buskers, and observe how begging works in this part of the world.  For dessert, we grabbed a couple of pasteis de nata from a nearby bakery.  The most delicious custard tarts you’re ever likely to try.  Crisp, light pastry filled with creamy custard that’s been scorched black on top.  They’re butt-ugly to look at, but oh so good.

We needed all the sustenance we could get for our steep walk up the hill to the Castle of St George.  This is well-maintained ruins now (an oxymoron?) and the surrounding area is a shady, peaceful park with stunning views across the city in all directions.  It was easy to spend a few hours up there.

We walked back to the ship through the Alfama district, peeked through peoples’ open door and windows, listened to neighbours shout at each other from balcony to street, avoided scooters, checked out the menus of the tiny bistros and admired the colourful, decorative tiles that cover the front of the buildings.

I’m home in a week, so this might be my last blog.  Our only other port is Le Havre, before the cruise ends, and I’m not planning on doing much there except chowing down on a giant seafood platter.  However, I might surprise you.....

Cadiz, Spain

 Sitting on the sea wall

 View over the rooftops to the ocean beyond

At the central market.  That's one big tuna

The cathedral and square where we drank our cafe con leche

Cadiz has been a commercial port for 3000 years, making it one of the oldest settlements in Europe.  Most passengers on the ship were using this port to access Seville, a two hour drive away, but we decided to spend the day exploring Cadiz.  I’m glad we did as it has so much to offer.

Dad spent his morning doing a coach tour of the surrounding area, including a sherry tasting at an enormous vineyard in Jerez.  Rob, Cam and I just wanted to walk around, and as the ship docked right in the downtown area, we didn’t have to walk far to find a cathedral on a square with a cafe.  Perfect for people-watching while downing a couple of cafe con leches.  

Old Cadiz is an island-like peninsular, so wherever you walk you tend to pop out by the sea.  The buildings leaned in on each other as we walked along incredibly narrow, cobblestone streets.  By chance we stumbled on the central market.  What a find.  Seafood so fresh most of it was still moving.  Lots of camerones on sale.  Wow - they really are TINY shrimp.  We were peckish so we bought some Iberian jamon and pecorino cheese, and a bag of little bread rolls, and stood on the street devouring it all.

There are 129 old watch towers in the city, one of which (Torre Tavira) has a large camera obscura at the top of it.  We stood in a completely darkened room with a white concave horizontal screen. Above, there is a hole through which the outside light enters, with a mirror and magnifying lenses, thus projecting the city as a brilliant moving image.  With me so far?  It was pretty awesome, but I guess you had to be there.  Afterwards we stood on the top of the tower and admired the 360 degree views first-hand.  It is such a beautiful city.  I don’t know how many times I told the guys I was coming back to live there one day (or at least visit for a really long time!). 

A restaurant, El Faro, had been recommended to us by the couple we met at lunch yesterday.  We took many twists and turns and seemed to always come out at Calle Virgen de las Penas.  Or, Street of the Virgin Penis as we came to call it.  Cameron is so immature.  However, we did eventually find the restaurant and got Dad to meet us there.  We had a feast of mixed fried seafood Cadiz-style, and paella, and local rose and ate ‘til we could eat no more.  Of course, after all that food, a walk was in order.  So, at our leisure, we traipsed back to our original cathedral and square (there are many squares with churches), and sat down for our apres-lunch coffee.  We were entertained by a teenage boy showing off to his mates.  He pretended to be a torreador (bullfighting is still very popular in Andalusia, although I thought it had been banned in Spain?) and he was really very good, so maybe he’d done some training.  All the kids sat on the cathedral steps and cheered him on.  We were all laughing.

We walked some more and finally made it back to the ship just before sailing.  Definitely my favourite port so far.

Casablanca, Morocco

 Cam checking out the tagines of mutton and couscous bubbling away on hot coals.  Fast food Moroccan-style!

 Sweet mint tea at local cafe.  The old medina, where we shopped, reflected in the window.

The very beautiful old law courts.  Fantastic mosaics and intricate plaster work.

Casablanca is Africa’s second biggest city after Cairo. It certainly has a big commercial buzz - modern buildings, with lots of construction and road works going on.  The port is vast.  And for a Muslim country it has quite a Western feel to it, despite the many minarets that can be glimpsed between buildings.  Street corners have vendors selling freshly squeezed orange juice, the sharp aroma refreshing on the city streets.  The outdoor cafes remind me of Paris, except only men seem to use them here.  They sit in long rows along the footpaths sipping espresso shots, or sweet mint tea.  We took a tea break at a very big cafe on Mohammed V Square.  There would’ve been thirty men, and not a single female (except me).

The people are incredibly friendly.  They spoke to us wherever we went, even if just to say hello, but many wanted to know where we were from.  Some just said, “We hope you enjoy your stay in Morocco.”  We went shopping in the ancient medina, wandering through the ever narrowing alleys of the souk, and at no time felt threatened or hassled to buy goods.  We caught a glimpse of men at prayer in a small mosque; saw the locals eating lunch in eateries with rooms so tiny they only held three rickety tables; watched people washing their feet in an exquisitely tiled fountain.  And always we were greeted with a friendly “hello” or “welcome”.  I bought a leather pouf which was so cheap I ended up buying another, because I couldn’t be bothered waiting for the guy to come back with my change.

Lunch was fun.  The Hyatt Hotel recommended Restaurant Imilchil for an authentic Moroccan dining experience.  It took some finding as it was a non-descript, unimpressive looking place down a grotty side-street.  However, the interior was every bit as amazing as the old law courts.  We sat in a dark, many-cushioned nook and ate off a large brass tray set into the table.  Our starter was a thick soup of lentils and chickpeas with chunks of lamb and finely chopped green herbs.  The main course, of course, was lamb tagines served with stewed prunes, almonds and fluffy couscous, all washed down with a Moroccan rose, and finished with mint tea.  We ran into a couple from the ship there.  They had been to this restaurant two years ago and couldn’t wait to revisit.  I didn’t blame them.

We did have time for a bit of sight-seeing.  Namely the Mahakma Law Courts which should really be a palace they are that beautiful.  Large open spaces, marble pillars, walls covered in mosaics and intricate plaster-work, carved cedar ceilings, and a huge internal courtyard filled with orange trees and roses.

Now, I’m not one for churches or mosques, but the Hassan II Mosque, completed in 1993, is a wonder to behold.  It took 8 years to build I believe, and I’m not surprised when you see the detail involved.  The minaret is the largest in the world, the mosque is the third largest in the world.  We didn’t have time to go inside, but we easily spent 20 minutes admiring the exterior.

I’m sorry not to be seeing more of this country, but I know I’ll be back.

The world tallest minaret (650ft) at the Hassan II Mosque

Tenerife, Canary Islands

 I did like this statue in the small harbour at Puerto de la Cruz

This building was on the Plaza Espana where we ate lunch.  It had a garden growing over it!

Tenerife didn’t really inspire me to write, but I don’t want to let my fans down.  All three of you.

We docked in the capital, Santa Cruz de Tenerife, on a cool and overcast morning.  So far, not so good. Then onto a coach for the drive over some mountains through La Laguna and the Orotava Valley to Puerto de la Cruz, a very touristy, coastal town on the other side of the island.  The rainy side apparently.  Here we visited the orchid gardens of Sitio Litre, a private house with a public garden.  Lots of familiar plants from home, including two very large feijoa trees.  The highlight of this garden was the 600 year old dragon tree that sat in a corner of the courtyard.  There was a small cafe at one end, so we drank bad coffee, ate stale cake, and relished the quietness and prettiness of our surroundings.  Agatha Christie spent a few months staying at this property where she was inspired to write “The Mysterious Mr Quin”.  Anyone got that book languishing in their library?  I’d like to read it.

We had an hour to stroll along the town boardwalk.  Choppy sea broke onto giant volcanic rocks and stony, black sand beaches.  Some punters were determined to make the most of their resort holiday. They perched uncomfortably in togs, on their towels, white skin appearing even whiter in the drizzle.  They had to be British!

By afternoon we were back at Santa Cruz, in sunshine, sitting outside a restaurant on the main square.  We had just ordered beer when who should wander past, suitcase in tow, but Cam on his way to check onto the ship.  Amazing.  He plonked himself down and joined us for lunch.  In my case, that would be grilled squid, fresh and tasty cucumber and tomato, and the island specialty - papas canarias.  These are jersey benne style potatoes, boiled in very salty water, served at room temperature with what I think was a red pepper dip, and a green herb dip.  Not too sure but it was simple and delicious.  

We had a chuckle when Cameron told us that the word “camerones” which you see on all the menus, translates to “little shrimp”, and was the main reason all the girls laughed at him in Spain when he used to introduce himself. He changed his name to Peter.

It was Saturday morning so the city was closed up and quiet, although there were lots of families out and about.  Nearly every girl between 10 and 18 wore short, short, shorts and very long, straight hair.  Practically a uniform.

All in all, a nice day.  Always good to stretch one’s legs and eat food other than on the ship, and of course great to have Cam with us now.

At sea, Atlantic Ocean

 Game cards. Check. Bloody Marys. Check. Dauber. Check.  Let's play BINGO!

The excitement continues.

A word on Bingo.  I love it.  I take back every nasty thing I said about it. Could it be because I’ve now won THREE days in a row, four times in total?  My winnings are now around the US$500 mark.  I have enemies left, right and centre.  Each time I win, a man sitting on the other side of the room does the throat slitting gesture, continuously, until he’s certain I’ve seen him.  Others look at me like I’m something unpleasant under their shoe. However, some people are coming to me for tips on how to win.  Like skill has anything to do with it.  I tell them it’s the two-for-one Bloody Marys.  One woman, the former principal, agrees as she slugs another one back.  She’s won a few times herself.

So my friends, try it...you might like it!

Mindelo, Cape Verde Islands

 ENJOYING A WINE BY THE LAGOON, CATFISH BAY

 IN THE FISH MARKET.  SPOT THE KITTEN.

LOCALS LEAVING THE MARKET

The fourteen volcanic islands that make up Cape Verde were first settled in 1462 by the Portuguese, who also brought African slaves to work on the plantations.  This intermingling of races produced a unique look to the people of Cape Verde - lighter skin and slightly more European features.  

The architecture, in Mindelo anyway, is distinctly colonial Portuguese.  There are no high-rises and many of the houses are nestled on rocky outcrops that rise above the town.  There is nothing green about the island of Sao Vicente.  Jagged mountains dominate the skyline, accentuating the barrenness of the surrounding countryside.

We arrived on a mild, sunny day.  The heady scent of oleanders permeated the air and I think we all breathed a collective sigh of relief.  We were ready for a change of pace from the relentless clamour, chaos and suffocating heat of mainland Africa.

Another bus tour today. Hard plastic seats and no air-con but everyone was in a good mood.  The African American woman sitting behind me, a former principal with a booming voice, kept saying over and over as the day progressed, “This is a good day, mmmm-hmm.  This is a GOOD day.”  Any second I expected her to start swaying in the seat, fanning herself as a gospel choir burst into song.

We made lots of stops in the town - visiting handicraft centres, art galleries, markets, music stores, statues, cathedrals (this is a Catholic nation) and NO MUSEUMS.  Yay!  I liked the art exhibition we saw of local life, colourfully depicted in a flat, naive style.  And the fish market had just received a huge catch of tuna which had the locals in a flap of activity.  No one seemed to notice the scrawny scrap of a kitten, almost buried in the slit belly of a tuna, frantically chewing away. 

We drove over some mountains to Catfish Bay - a cobblestone road all the way, which made for a bone-jangling trip.  Here on the beach, at the edge of the lagoon, we were entertained with music and dancers whilst eating fish cakes and drinking Cape Verde wine (quite nice actually).

Our tour finished in the morning so Rob and I spent the afternoon walking around town.  The buildings are square boxes painted in pastel colours, with iron railings and pretty shutters.  Shops closed between 1pm and 3pm which forced us to have a long, leisurely lunch.  Wok fried seafood with deliciously fresh vegetables and rice, washed down with the local beer, Strela.

My only souvenir was a cd of music by Cape Verde’s most famous export, the singer Cesaria Evora, “the barefoot diva”, who died last year.  She sang “morna” music, similar in style to the Portuguese “fado”.  Mournful, passionate songs that deserve your full attention.

Dakar, Senegal

A child in the Wolof village of Niayes

The salt works by the Pink Lake

A woman selling jewelry at the Fulani village

You’ve probably noticed I talk about the smell of a place a lot.  I guess being far out at sea most days means we lose the smell of the land, and so become hyper-sensitive to it each time we come into port.  Dakar was no different. It was like an old Chinese curio shop - musty, with an underlying aroma of burning incense.

Dad and I were heading out with a group to the Pink Lake of Retba, about an hour’s drive away.  Once again we had a police escort.  I think this is more to bypass the horrendous traffic than for protection.  Whatever, I’m getting used to the special treatment.

Dakar is the most westerly point in Africa and commands the shipping lanes between Western Europe and Brazil and South Africa.  We were told it was lush and green, but as we drove into the countryside it was anything but.  Arid wasteland covered in half-built houses (no mortgages here - you build as you can afford and it might take 10 years) were separated by the occasional dust-covered mango plantations.  Litter and graffiti were rife.  Any vacant lot contained cattle and horses, grazing on hay if they were lucky.  The horses were used to pull basic, flat-bed carts, and these were abundant.  Back to basics - no scooters here.  We were told the cash crop in this country is peanuts, and the food crop is millet.  The people cook with imported vegetable oil though, as the peanut oil is too expensive.

We stopped near the Pink Lake (Lac Rose) at a Wolof village called Niayes.  This is a village that the founder of the Dakar Rally took under his wing and donated money to so they could have a medical centre (if you could call it that).  The whole place was was pretty depressing - a ramshackle collection of buildings lining a sandy road with makeshift shops, and a press of people selling and buying dried fish, fruit and veg, and anything else from bras to brooms. The Senegalese are much darker than those in the other countries we visited.  Their features almost indistinguishable as they merge into shadow. They have a high fertility rate and our guide told us there are a lot of kids.  He has two wives and ten children...so far.

We were soon at the Pink Lake and were loaded onto army trucks converted into open-air, safari vehicles.  A herd of camels grazed in the shade nearby.  Because of a recent sand storm all colour was muted, including the lake unfortunately, so what we got was flat beige tinged slightly pink.  The drive along the shoreline was interesting.  Cattle wandered under the guidance of child herders, and eventually we came to the salt works where harvesters labour to extract salt from the briny water. (One woman thought they were fishermen.  Another thought they were scuba divers. Seriously!)  Nothing lives in this lake except the algae that attaches itself to the salt crystals and gives the water its pink hue.

The prize-giving for the Dakar Car Rally used to be held at the Pink Lake but now the Rally, still called Dakar, is held in Argentina after four French tourists were killed in neighbouring Mauritania.

Senegal is made up of three main ethnic groups: Wolof, Fulani and Serer.  On the other side of the lake was a small Fulani village.  They welcomed us with drums and dancing and allowed us to explore their homes.  These consisted of concrete bunkers dotted amongst sand dunes, with no furniture except a basic bed for the adults. There is a common cook house, and a well at the centre of the community.

Our tour ended with a wild ride over the dunes to the Atlantic Ocean.  The beach, covered in rubbish, stretched forever and the surf was relentless.  We drove along it for a few kilometres, right into the water, which gave us all a thrill.

A small market had been set up right beside the ship so my day finished bartering for souvenirs.  Not a pleasant experience.  The traders grasp your arm and stand over you, or bar your way, until they finish telling you how fabulous and cheap their products are. They would always be asking Robin for more money, and I would patiently tell them that I was the boss, and Robin was my bodyguard.  That always got huge guffaws. They did take a few steps back though....  I’m pleased with my purchases. When I get home the house will look less like a Chinese Emporium and more like an African Market.

Accra, Ghana

 KWAME NKRUMAH

COFFIN MAKING

It didn’t take us long to figure out Ghana was far more prosperous than Benin and Togo.  We had air-con in the coaches for a starter.  Also, on our hour’s drive from the port of Tema, to the capital of Accra, there were large subdivisions of very nice middle-class houses, European car dealerships (I saw more Audi Q7s on the road than on an average day in Ponsonby), and large modern buildings. I’m sure it helps that Ghana has the single biggest gold mine in the world, and is the largest producer of cocoa.  They also have diamonds and oil.  

Probably my most lasting memory of Ghana though, will be the number of peddlers selling things in the middle of the road and motorway.  No wonder traffic was always at a crawl.  Each seller had a specific product. Here is a sample of their wares, and this is no exaggeration: Scrabble; dog collars and leads (haven’t seen a dog since we got to West Africa.  Go to a fetish market and you’ll figure out why); garish religious paintings; bread; newspapers; condoms; lint rollers; tea towels; tissues; sleeping bags; peanuts; suit carriers; full length dress mirrors - in the middle of the road!!; tv aerials; computer software.  And all I wanted was a hot coffee. 

We visited the tomb of Kwame Nkrumah, the man credited with achieving Ghana independence from the British in 1957.  He was overthrown in a military coup in 1966.

We were then dropped off at the Movenpick Hotel for 3 hours where we could pursue our own interests.  Dad, Robin and my interests were of course food and alcohol, so we didn’t need to go far.  The hotel was pretty flash, and like the Taj Mahal Palace hotel, sweetly scented and wonderfully cool.  We started with the best coffee since Singapore, and a slice of cheesecake.  Let’s call that morning tea.  Dad and Robin then had a beer break at the pool bar while I swooned over the fantastic colourful and patterned Ghanian cotton cloth for sale in one of the boutiques.  I did make some purchases, and even bought Robin a shirt - not too loud. We then followed up with a buffet lunch in their popular dining room and more beer to wash it down with.  Amazing how 3 hours can fly by.

No visit to a city is complete without a museum visit (we are finding out).  This is how Accra’s museum was described to us in print: “...one of Africa’s finest. It displays a wealth of historical and artistic treasures with skill and sophistication” (and no air-con).  Let me say, it was a step-up from Togo’s museum in that it had an extra room and fan, and the toilets had lights. Our visit there was limited to 10 minutes.  Why they had to make it so long I don’t know.

We had a police escort back to Tema, along the coastal road, which was lucky as the cars barely moved in either direction.  We mostly traveled down the centre line as cars moved off the road to make way for us.  Our final stop (excuse the pun) was the coffin making shop.  All sorts of coffins were on display, from giant Coke bottles to giant sea creatures, even a giant hammer.  Dad thought he’d have the giant calculator.  You can probably guess what I’d go for although they didn’t have any in stock...

Three sea days now, until we get to Senegal, so you might not hear from me for a few days.

Lome, Togo

 The kids are delightful and very friendly

Down at the fishing port. That woman is carrying apples on her head, and a baby on her back.

Togo is like Benin but without the glitz, glamour, class and sophistication.  Unlike Benin, we did not have a police escort (sorely missed as we sat in many traffic jams today), but we did have security on board.  It was hard to take her seriously though. She looked more like protection for the villain in an old James Bond movie - tall, in a tight-fitting tan pant suit, high-heels and an afro.  When our guide told us what her job was it was on the tip of my tongue to say, “Surely you jest!”.  But I didn’t.  She was the one with the gun. In her handbag.

The hustle and bustle of this city is something else. Scooters carrying up to 4 people whipped between the trucks and buses.  And so many people walking.  The women have the most perfect posture, probably from carrying huge loads on their heads.  This can consist of laundry, hot food, loaves of bread, fruit and veg, and even long tree trunks. Or else they have a baby tied onto their back in a sarong.  Sometimes they carry both.  We have it easy.

We went to an artisan centre to see craftspeople at work.  Carving, weaving, shoe-making, beadwork.  And then of course, the museum.  We’re talking NATIONAL museum.  A room, with a fan, and a couple of cabinets with carvings and musical instruments.  And inexplicably, an old wooden bed-frame with a life size paper-mache horse propped up in it.  We weren’t allowed to take photos here.  Maybe they’re afraid we’ll go home and copy their great ideas. Without a doubt, the fan was the most popular exhibit.

With no air-con again today, it was a relief to get dropped at a beach for a few minutes to watch the fishermen hauling their nets in through the surf.  There’d be as many as 15 men working the one net, heaving the rope, and chanting a song.  Kind of like a chain-gang.  And later we were shown the local fishing port which I found fascinating.  There was so much going on - with brightly painted boats coming and going, nets being mended, wares being sold, fish being handled.

Our most disturbing stop of the day was the Fetish Market where the locals go to buy remedies for their maladies.  I’ve never seen such a variety of dead animals and birds in one location.  The smell was something else.  Displayed outside on big tables were dead owls, falcons and parrots.  Skulls of hippo, monkey and baboon. Whole withered heads of cats and other small animals.  Skins of leopard, porcupine and antelope. Teeth of warthog and others. It was pretty overwhelming.  And there were far more species there than I’ve mentioned.  One guy wanted to take me out the back of his stall to show me his voodoo amulets (that’s not a euphemism) but I was afraid I’d never be seen again. It doesn’t get much more macabre than that place.

Interesting fact: Togo was Britain’s first victory of World War I.  It took only 12 days to defeat the 500 Germans who lived here.

A stand at the Fetish Market

Hauling in the nets

Benin

 HE COULD'VE ASKED BEFORE RUBBING HIS SNAKES AGAINST ME.

A TYPICAL STREET SCENE

Benin, like Mumbai last month, left my senses clanging.  We had a full day tour, and traveled in a convoy of three buses with an armed police escort driving in front with its siren blaring.  We also had armed police on our buses and we stopped for nothing.  Not lights, scooters or people.  Hair-raising, but at least it guaranteed a breeze through the windows, as there was no air-con.  Our driver used his horn liberally, as did those in vehicles around us, and between that, the heat, and the choking dust and truck fumes, our nerves started to fray a little. No matter, there was so much of interest to distract us.

There must be fifty scooters to every car here which explains why you could buy petrol from stalls every 200m along the road.  The petrol was contained in large glass jars and syphoned into the gas tanks as needed.  That was another smell in the air - gasoline.  The main form of transport for the locals are the taxi scooters (also known as “take-me-quicks”) and are identified by the drivers who wear yellow shirts. There were a lot of them.

The streets are lined with open stalls selling all manner of things.  Most commonly petrol, and hubcaps (which was strange as there weren’t that many cars).  Also mangos, pawpaw and bananas.  There were ancient Singer sewing machines set up so you could get a quick mend of your patterned pyjamas if needed.  The men here certainly like their patterned pyjamas, which I suppose are about the coolest, and coolest, things to wear. Even the baby boys wear them.  The men here are not bothered about urinating in public.  I’ve never seen so many peni in one day, or ever.  They don’t even try to hide it.  Our drivers were no exception. When our buses stopped at the sacred forest, they all jumped off and had a group pee in front of us.

We visited the town of Ouidah, supposedly the cradle of Voodoo religion (apparently nothing to be afraid of, folks).  We went to the sacred forest of Kpasse which had at its centre a magnificent 400 year old tree (the spirit of 14thC Chief Kpasse), and on to the Voodoo Temple of Snakes.  Here I not only held a python, but I went in the python pit - a small temple full of snakes.  While I was in there calmly taking photos of snakes at my feet, Robin pointed out that they were on the ledges around my head.  Neato.

Benin was the centre of the slavery trade for 400 years and we saw some of this history in an old Portuguese fort which serves as the Ouidah Museum.

We ate lunch at an open air restaurant on a huge ocean beach that reminded me of Whiritoa, the way the beach fell away and massive waves thumped in.  When we got back on the bus the temperature inside it read 50C.  I can’t even tell you how much we were sweating.  Suffice to say I drank 3 litres of water and only used the bathroom twice all day.

Our final, and my most favourite stop, was the stilt village of Ganvie built way out in the centre of Lake Nokue.  Hundreds of years ago the Tofino chief saved his people from slavery by telling them to build their huts over the water.  Neighbouring tribes who profited from the slave trade left them alone as they believed the lake to be infested with water demons.

We explored the canal ways of this village in long, flat-bottomed boats.  Out here the elderly women are topless, and believe me, if anyone should be wearing tops, it’s them.  The canals are filled with canoes, lots with children casting nets out, or carrying fruit or other produce to be sold.  There is a floating market, and a floating communal laundry.  The houses are loosely made from bamboo and it’s easy to see inside, and how simply these people live.  In the wider canals, makeshift sails are made from sarongs. I’m sure sailing makes a welcome relief from the paddles that are normally used.

We got back to the ship an hour after we were meant to have sailed.  Lucky they waited for us.  Air-con and a shower have never been so welcome!

ONE OF THE CANALS AT THE GANVIE STILT VILLAGE

At sea, Bight of Benin

PIRATE DRILL. ONLY THE CREW WEAR LIFEJACKETS. IS THERE SOMETHING THEY'RE NOT TELLING US?

We crossed the Equator today, at precisely 7:40am.  The captain actually did a countdown from ten.  It was like being on the space shuttle, but with less astronauts, and more passengers.  Apparently the Bight of Benin has become something of a pirate area. Nothing on the scale of what is encountered off Somalia though.

I did my Spin class as usual this morning.  There are three of us regulars.  The other two women are Canadians, both in their sixties.  One of them competes in ironman competitions.  We are totally in awe of her, including our instructor.  If you put wings on her bike it would take off, she pedals that fast.  Today we had an extra woman in the class.  She was African American, in her sixties too, and very elegant.  She had never done a spin class before and spent most of the class seated, as she found the standing climbs too hard.  At the end of the class our instructor asked her how she was feeling.  Now, most people would find that saying “okay” would suffice.  However, she replied with, “Well, my vajayjay isn’t feeling too great”.  Spin class gold, my friends.  I nearly fell off the bike laughing.

We had Bingo again today.  However, there was only one outlet selling cards, instead of the usual two.  Well, you should’ve heard the moaning about that.  You’d think the buffet had been five minutes late opening.  The Bingo MC, who has a wicked sense of humour, said, “Seems there are a few grumpy women today.  Probably your blood sugar levels are low because you haven’t eaten for 45 minutes.”  Funny because it’s probably true.

At sea, Atlantic Ocean

 WELWITCHIA TREE.  THIS SPECIMAN IS THOUGHT TO BE 600 YEARS OLD.

IT ONLY GROWS IN NAMIBIA AND ANGOLA.

ITS TRUNK GROWS UNDERGROUND, ABOUT A METRE.

 OUR SHIP DOCKED IN LUDERITZ

THE LOOOOOONG HALLWAY OUTSIDE OUR CABIN

Thought I'd put in a few random photos.  We have another sea day tomorrow too.  Mothers Day today, of course.  Celebrated with a champagne brunch on our balcony, followed by Bingo.  Does it get any more exciting?  Well, it did because Dad won! US$100.  That should fund his bingo for the rest of the cruise.  Saw dolphins today, and loads of flying fish.  We have been having the most incredible sunsets too.  That big African sun that you always see in photos.

Walvis Bay, Namibia

NAMIB-NAUKLUFT PARK

ROBIN CLIMBING SAND DUNE #7

We finally seem to have left the fog behind and now I can see the Atlantic waters, the colour of tinned asparagus.  I do miss the deep sapphire of the Indian Ocean.

Yesterday though, we were on land.  Walvis (Whale) Bay was our port, but we spent all day out in the desert.  The Bay itself is vast, and is home to a massive lagoon full of wildlife, mainly birds.  The pelicans are pink, and we had hoped to see flamingoes, but they only come at a certain time of day.  

Our tour group was made up of fifteen 4X4 vehicles, each taking five passengers.  We travelled in a long convoy, and with so many driver/guides we received a lot of conflicting information at each place we visited.  e.g. the flamingoes come at high tide. And, the flamingoes come at low tide.  And depending who told the story, the tide was currently in, or, the tide was currently out.  So I apologise in advance for inaccurate information.

The guide in my vehicle looked like your typical white hunter - tall, tanned, muscled, blonde.  A hunk.  Shame his English was so poor.  A conversation with him was like talking on the phone long distance - there was always a delay as he mentally converted from one language to another.

We left the Bay behind and hit the desert, immediately confronted with the large road sign SAND.  That always cracks me up.  The roads are long, straight and flat.  There are bulldozers out every day putting back the sand around the power poles that the wind in the night has removed.  Same problem with the railway line and shifting sand.

Our first desert stop was at Sand Dune #7 (that’s the one between Dune #6 and Dune #8).  It’s supposedly one of the biggest in the world.  My guide, let’s call him Gunther, said I should take my shoes off if I wanted to climb it.  A.) Was he nuts?  Could he not see how high it was, and B) What about snakes and scorpians and other terrifying desert stuff.  He just laughed and said, “Don’t worry about it.”  In the end, the sand was too hot to walk on (that’s my excuse anyway) so I left it to Robin to attempt the climb in shoes.  The sand is incredibly fine, and comes in through the air vents of the car and settles on your clothing like diamond dust.  I was always brushing it off.

We set off along the inland road that ran parallel to the dunes, that ran parallel to the coast.  This string of dunes starts in South Africa and runs through to Angola.  Eventually we turned further inland and headed for the Namib-Naukluft Park.  An enormous moonscape made almost entirely of sandstone.  It looks impassable but we snaked our way along the dry, sandy riverbeds, stopping every now and again to have the flora (such as it was!) explained to us.  Most fascinating was the welwitchia, a prehistoric tree virtually nothing is known about.  It’s trunk grows underground, and it sprouts only two leaves in its lifetime that shred to look like many leaves.  It has seed cones so it was thought to be related to the pine, but no-one is sure.  It seems more like a palm tree to me.  There is a female and a male that grow side by side, and a little bug that pollinates them. Cool.

By now it was so hot even the car was sweating.  Gunther kept saying every 5 minutes, “It’s hot.”  Duh. Perhaps this was the only English he felt confident saying. We had air con but it was useless against the intensity of the sun.

We were all taken to an oasis for a buffet lunch.  Here a tiny stream trickles through, and plant life flourishes: grass, palms, fruit trees, olives, vegetables.  The area was established in 1840 and used to grow fruit for the ships, to stave off scurvy in the crew.

Our last stop for the day was Swakopmund, an old, colonial, German town, where Brangelina lived for a while, and gave birth to their daughter Shiloh.  It’s on the coast, and the Atlantic crashes in.  We didn’t get a chance to explore it.  Just a quick drive around, with a visit to a rug weaver, a shoe maker (shoes made from kudu and ostrich) and a gem museum/shop.  No purchases.  Our drive back to the ship was along the coast road.  Surf on one side, giant desert dunes on the other - the setting sun casting wonderful shadows on the sand.

Luderitz, Namibia

 SUNRISE OVER THE DUNES

UPSTAIRS IN A HOUSE IN THE GHOST TOWN OF KOLMANSKOP

Our journey from Capetown was almost entirely through a thick sea-fog.  The ship slid along slowly and quietly, foghorn sounding every few minutes.  It was very eery, especially at night.  We slipped out of the fog and into Luderitz as the sun came up over the dunes.  Yes, I really was up that early.  The fog hung low behind us, all the way along the edge of the coast.  Weird.

Luderitz is a small town built on rocks and sand, sustained by fisheries and nearby diamond mines.  The houses are brick and plaster, many painted in jellybean colours which contrasted beautifully with the intense blue sky.  But the second you leave town you’re in the desert, as far as the eye can see.

We took a tour to the ghost town of Kolmanskop, about 15 minutes drive away.  The first road sign we saw said SAND.  Stating the obvious somewhat.  Kolmanskop came about due to the alluvial diamond mining in the area, but was deserted in the 1950s when the diamonds ran out.  The houses are slowly disappearing into the sand.  We were allowed to wander through them but were told to beware of snakes. Terrific.  Some houses had sand halfway up the first floor, but if you could get to the staircase you could climb to the second floor and get some great views through the windows.  Walking around , I searched very diligently for a stray diamond. The sign near the town said DIAMOND THEFT HELPS NO-ONE.  It would’ve helped me, but I had no luck.

Back in Luderitz, Robin and I made our way down to the dock, where there was an oyster farm.  A local had told us they ran a great little bar, and their oysters were fantastic.  It was lunchtime so we thought we’d give it a go.  Those oysters were bloody marvellous.  Shucked in front of us, straight out of the water. A perfect balance of salty creaminess. We had two dozen each, washed down with a chilled South African sav blanc.  Mmmmmm-mm.

Having refueled, we went for a walk around the town.  Once you’re off the main road most of the streets are sandy dirt, and often terminate in a large clump of rock.  We clambered up one of these massive rock forms for great views of the town, harbour and ship.  We visited the museum (even more of a relic than the one in East London), and went inside Goerke House, a stunning example of German colonial architecture.

The ship left Luderitz at 4pm, and within 15 minutes we were back in that bank of fog, horns blasting, temperature plummeting. Just weird.

 VIEW OVER LUDERITIZ, OUR SHIP AT ROBIN'S ELBOW

 IN BACKGROUND, FELSENKRICHE - LUTHERAN CHURCH BUILT 1912

GHOST TOWN OF KOLMANSKOP. TEACHER'S HOUSE AND ARCHITECT'S HOUSE