We touched down in Lombok safely on a wing and a prayer. I laugh about it now but I didn't at the time. Our next means of transport was a taxi that turned out to be a van to take us around to where a boat would take us the small distance from Lombok to Gili Trawangan. It turned out to be a speed boat and it took about twenty minutes to cross. It was dark by the time we arrived. Transport on the island is by pony and cart, so after hauling our bags over the beach, in we flopped bags and all and headed of to our hotel. “Wait , I shouted, my mobile phone is gone”. My partner phoned it and, luckily enough, it had fallen somewhere in the cart: panic over.
We arrived in Bali after a long flight via Singapore. We had booked an onward flight to Lombok with airline Merpati (no longer with us...). Well, this little plane looked like it had seen better days and as we took off, water was pouring in on the right hand side of the plane so much so that passengers sitting that side were actually moving seats while we took off. I’d never seen anything like it; talk about flight safety gone out of the window..! We touched down in Lombok safely on a wing and a prayer. I laugh about it now but I didn't at the time. Our next means of transport was a taxi that turned out to be a van to take us around to where a boat would take us the small distance from Lombok to Gili Trawangan. It turned out to be a speed boat and it took about twenty minutes to cross. It was dark by the time we arrived. Transport on the island is by pony and cart, so after hauling our bags over the beach, in we flopped bags and all and headed of to our hotel. “Wait , I shouted, my mobile phone is gone”. My partner phoned it and, luckily enough, it had fallen somewhere in the cart: panic over. We had booked a rather smart looking hotel called Luce D’ Alma Resort and Spa. After a five minute bumpy ride down dark mud tracks we arrived. Happy to see some light in all this darkness we were cheerfully greeted at reception and with all formalities dealt with, shown to our room on the right hand side of a very large central swimming pool. The room was large but not very private at night until you closed the curtains as the only thing between us and our neighbours opposite was the pool. As it turned out there was no-one. Very good. We unpacked a few things and decided to go grab something to eat so back to reception we go and was offered two bikes: the easiest way to get around Gili. Not really my cup of tea. So tally ho, off we go. Pot holes everywhere and some full of water. It took about five to ten minutes to get back to the strip of bars and restaurants so we parked the bikes and went off to explore. My first impression was how dark and muddy everywhere was but hopefully tomorrow I would see it in a different light. We had dinner in a type of BBQ place and downed with a couple of beers. Time for bed so back on our iron horses and back to the hotel. The next morning and breakfast done we decided to hang around the pool, all that really meant was opening the patio doors, very relaxed. The place seemed quite quiet with only about two other couples around the pool. Perhaps others had gone to the beach. We spent most of the day swimming and grabbing a few rays of sun. Late afternoon we went back on our bikes to grab a few beers and check out the restaurant situation. My partner’s birthday was coming up and we earmarked a restaurant at the very end of the strip to celebrate in a day of so. But what for tonight most seemed very similar and menus the same, we eventually found somewhere we could buy beers; not as easy as you would expect so back to the hotel. Dinner over with we headed to a bar for a few drinks but there was something about the place. I didn't like the atmosphere in any of the bars; I couldn't put my finger on it at that moment but all would be revealed. Time for an early night so back on the bikes hotel bound we go.
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Destination: Highclere Castle. Although I grew up within spitting distance of this place I'd until recently never heard of it. Onto the M3 motorway in the pouring rain we go. The M3 was undergoing major road works so from the moment we got on to the moment we turned off nose-to-tail traffic and still raining. Tom Tom took us off the motorway in Newbury and I expected the castle not to be much farther away but it was, so another twenty minutes after we arrived at the entrance to Highclere Castle. Online we had looked for tickets; it said sold out, but would it be on a day like this? Lucky for us not so; after parting with £26 for two tickets we headed for the front entrance. I’m going to have to mention a certain tv-series that took place here at some point, so why not now. Downton Abbey had put this place on the map again. With some 1400 visitors each day (5 days a week) and at £13 per head minimum you can do the maths: a pure gold mine. Still raining - I'll call it liquid sunshine from now on - and dark, the grounds and the natural rolling English landscape looked amazing. I'm not a particular big fan of Downton Abbey but I did recognise the huge tree in the grounds where Hugh Bonneville walks with his Labrador at the beginning of the programme. The grounds themselves - originally designed by Capability Brown - cover some 5,000 acres and are now owned by the 8th Earl of Carnarvon. Once through the front door - note not the servants’ entrance - we arrived in a large room in which I could hear everybody saying, ”Yes, I remember this from the programme”. I didn’t, in fact I didn't recognise any of it ( reminder to myself re-watch Downton Abbey). The castle from the outside looks quite magnificent but I didn't have that feeling inside, it looked a bit forlorn, to be honest. We headed up stairs and placards saying, “This was Lady Grantham’s bedroom, Lady Sybil’s, this is the room Mr. Kamuk died”. It all revolved around Downton Abbey, not the real history of the place. In each room there was a guide and I got talking to one in particular about the filming and she said all the actors were picked up in London in the morning and driven down to Highclere, but by the time everything and everybody was ready to go at 5 ‘o’clock, an average of only about 4 minutes of filming was done per day. I asked how many visitors they got and it was on average 1400 (both online and walk-ins). Even on busy days they try not to turn any visitors away, especially coming from Scotland for instance. Next we headed to the main central room with a huge fireplace and buckets strategically placed around the room to catch the rain. Now, with 1400 visitors per day and at £13 per head you would have thought they could have had the roof fixed. Talking to another guide she was quite happy to tell me how the Queen was a regular visitor, especially to the horse stud at the castle. I also have been around horses for a large majority of my life but once I started asking too many questions on the subject she backed off, back to the subject of the Queen. It didn't take very long to see all we wanted and before we knew it we were in a courtyard at the back with the usual gift shop. I poked my head around the door and soon realised there was nothing in there for me and headed for the grounds. The liquid sunshine had stopped but the view over the hills with low clouds covering the tops looked amazing and that's just your back garden if you happen to live there. I think we were very lucky to visit on what was a quietish day, no queues plus enough time and space to see everything, all in all an enjoyable morning. Time to head back to the car parked in a wet field then a quick pub lunch and home. High time I started watching Downton Abbey again.
We arrived at San Francisco airport after an eleven hour flight from Amsterdam; twelve hours couped up is about my limit but now some airlines are introducing flights of up to eighteen hours… what a nightmare. Well, that out of the way, we picked up our hire car and off we go in search of the Frank Hotel, just off Union Square. My partner behind the wheel and everything going to plan until we hit Lombard Street. “I can't drive down that” he yelled and unceremoniously got out of the driving seat, holding all the traffic up, giving me no choice other than to take over. It wasn’t all that bad at all: just a series of eight hairpin bends down a steep hill. That over with and not long after we arrived at our hotel. Walking into the reception of the Frank Hotel we were welcomed not by your average Muzak, but by Barbra Streisand… After ‘the good morning and do you have a reservation’ - which we did - I commented to the guy behind the desk saying “Barbra is our cleaner”, he roared with laughter and we got an instant upgrade, a great start. Our room was very spacious with a lounge area with a large tv and a huge bed. Time to explore. Union Square was very close by so this was our first port of call. I have to admit there wasn't much to see here. So on we went. We decided to get the cable car down to the bay. Easier said than done: the queue was massive; eventually we got on and found ourselves looking at Alcatraz. Odd though, it sounds it doesn't look that far from land but apparently the undercurrents stopped most if not all prisoners from escaping. Time for lunch so off to Fishermans Wharf. The place was buzzing, a magnet for tourists alike but it had a nice atmosphere. I tucked into a lobster roll, my partner ordered a tortilla. The sun was shining, it was a lovely day. Time to go back to the hotel for a wash and brush up for the evening’s entertainment. We had a chat at reception again and were told, by about 7.30 to 8-ish this evening, we would not be able to see the other side of the the street as the fog would roll in off the bay; we couldn’t wait to see it. When we got downstairs full of expectation, we didn’t see not an ounce of fog: what a disappointment. Unfortunately, the receptionist was someone else, the other one would be back tomorrow and we would be having words. By then is was time for a well deserved glass of wine. This city isn't easy to walk around. The hills are big and in the heat..! Something I noticed straight away on our first evening was that this city takes on a different feel at night. Not one I particularly liked, the homeless and beggars appeared from nowhere and were everywhere. Hands reaching out at every corner making me feel very wary and not so relaxed as I had hoped. Dinner over it was time for an early night. After all, it had been a long first day. After breakfast next morning we drove around to the Golden Gate Bridge which was almost covered in fog but still very impressive. It seemed pointless driving across as we would see nothing so we left that for another time. We took the car back to the hotel and headed down to the bay again, where we came across lots of old boats of all descriptions. It just happened that today entry to them was free, what more could you ask for. We went and had a look at the old San Francisco to Sausalito ferry and a few others. That afternoon we headed off to the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art (SFMOMA). It was quite busy but we managed to see all we wanted. ‘Museumed out’ we headed back to the hotel for a bit of R&R. On the way in I mentioned about last night’s missing fog; only to be told "it will happen tonight”, which it didn't. We got the bus around to the Castro. First off a glass of wine in a bar at the beginning of the Castro. My first impression was that the place seemed a bit forlorn but we would leave our final judgement until we had walked around a bit more. We had dinner here in a surf & turf restaurant and very nice it was too and very popular. Next to check out the nightlife. Again we didn't seem to come across a single bar that suited us but at least we gave it a go. Time for the bus to the hotel and still no fog… The next day would be our last. As we would be flying that evening we decided to make the most of it. First stop Russian Hill made famous for us by Armistead Maupin's series of books Tales of the city (well worth a read…). The view from the hill was wonderful and I can understand where the inspiration for the books came from. We sat down in the park to catch our breath. The hills are steep and not ideal for walking, but the view from here over the skyline out towards the bay was unforgettable. Next back to town for some last minute shopping like you do, write a few post cards over a glass of wine and just enough time to see the fog; after all it was our third evening. I will now call it ‘scotch mist’. It never appeared again. Luckily, our favourite receptionist was on duty and laughed, saying “this never happens, now you've got a reason to come back”. We thanked him for a wonderful stay, saying “yes we will be back’. With that our trip to San Francisco was over.
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GaryBorn in Chiswick West London, grew up in Royal Berkshire, currently living in Amsterdam, the Netherlands Archives
March 2016
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