ΟΛΥΜΠΙΑ, Greece

This tiny costal town in Katakolon, Greece, the gateway to Ολυμπια, otherwise known as Olympia - historic birthplace of the Olympics.

Alex and I were in the minority that decided to visit Olympia on our own.

We took the train up from Katakolon (€2 return) and paid at the entrance to the archeological site (€6).

We decided this was better than the guided trips (€48), and it meant we could enjoy it in peace instead of with the whole flying circus.

The ruins at Olympia are really impressive - much more so than I thought they would be.

The area was roughly the size of a high school, and it was packed with ruins.

The occasional piece they had restored so you could imagine better what it was like in it's prime.

This building was the temple of Zeus. The one that housed the statue of Zeus that is one of the Seven wonders of the ancient world.

It must have been an amazing sight...

What also must have been amazing was the earthquake around 500BC that brought it crashing down.

That's the columns lying like a packet of Krispie biscuits. The scale is quite something.














Me doing my best to look suitably elegant amongst classical Greek columnade.














Me trying to be Greek goddess again. I so love it when Alex uses his 'pretty' lens - not like the 'ugly' lenses they use for passport pics. Sweeeeet.

I will leave you with pics from our mini Olympics. Sprints on the ancient athletic grounds. Both shattered at the end, thought it was only 2 x 100m - turned out to closer to 2 x 200m...ouch.

The Costa Concordia

The Costa Concordia.












   The cruise ship Costa Concordia is an exercise in excess: 120,000 tonnes, 951 feet long, and takes 3700 guests which seem to be absorbed by the vastness of the ship such that at any one time there only ever seem to be a few hundred people on board in total. And the list of abundance goes on; 3 swimming pools, 5 jacuzzis, 6 restaurants, 13 bars, a 3 storey auditorium, a disco, a tennis court, an art gallery, a beauty salon, and all of it decorated in Vegas-style glitz. But wait! There's more! So much more in fact that we stumble upon new places every day. It's totally understandable of course; how on earth could you enjoy cruising through the gorgeous clear weather and spectacular blue seas of the Med unless you're deep in the bowels of the vessel gambling in the casino, or drinking at a bar, or buying a handbag in the store, etc, etc...The patrons generally seem to be the types for whom the idea of a holiday is being waited on hand and foot, fed meal after meal, and generally being treated like children and told what to do and where to go and yes, thank you, your visa card will do just fine. The cruise is a floating cross between a retirement village, fat camp, and a mental institution, filled to the brim with all sorts of rubbish to occupy your mind and empty your wallet.

   That being said I'm not averse to dinner out every night and being served breakfast in my cabin. And we do stop at 8 different ports on this trip and shore leave is a must in this madhouse, although many people choose to stay on board while we're in harbour. Some of the places, such as Turkey or Eygpt are so much nicer for seeing, knowing that you'll have a wonderfully cosy place to rest your head at night instead of a dodgy fleapit which would probably be the order of the day were we visiting by land or air. And after rushing around Ireland and England and scrambling to find trains and organise sleeping arrangements it's a relief to have everything - food, transport, accomodation - organised for us.


Our first port of call is the Italian town of Savona. We get a lovely view of the places we dock at because the ship rises about 13 stories out of the water. We both wonder how the ship maintains its upright position with so much weight so high in the air. Presumably some engineers have it all figured out, but I hope it's not the same crowd that declared the Titanic unsinkable.
Sometimes it's handy to be staying on a city-dwarfing behemoth. I was wandering around Savona, looking for my way home and turned a corner to meet this view. The only downside is that despite looking so close, the ship was still a fair ways off across a major road and on the other side of the harbour.










We went for a wander around Savona, Rome's seaport and a classic little Italian town, centuries old and abounding with narrow, winding cobblestone streets and ancient ruins around every corner.This time of year is off-season and the town is sleepier than normal and it took me some time to find a place to have my obligatory coffee. The streets here abound with motorbikes, predominantly scooters, although Rach tells me this is nothing compared to Rome. I can't wait.


One of the no-go zones (no-go for Rach and myself anyway) in the ship is 'noiseland', the forward swimming pool area. Screaming kids, blaring music, and a huge LED cinema screen. At least it keeps the people who enjoy this stuff in one place.
A much more refined part of the ship is the rear pool - this is with the retractable roof drawn back. In true European style you're allowed to wander around here topless, although I have yet to see anyone actually doing so (dammit!). Rach is sunning herself in the bottom left of the picture.
The theatre seats 1500 people in comfort - enough room for a drinks table at every seat. We watched a magician doing his stuff here; card tricks, escaping from chains, and making gorgeous women appear from nowhere. Great fun.

Signs II

If there were more signs like this, maybe there’d be more bears alive today.

That’s every abuse y’hear? So watch it.

I loved this dude in his risqué German-inspired Mardi Gras outfit.

In Italy everybody dresses like a porn star...

And who am I to say they're wrong?

Civitavecchia

We made it to Rome and took the train to a nearby seaport - Civitavecchia - which means tomorrow we go on the cruise! I decided to cool my feet in the waters of the Med but Rach wasn't so keen once she realised how icy the water is at this time of year.















I really don't know why, but in the last twenty years or so New Zealand has had an explosion in espresso coffee bars. I just assumed we were catching up to the rest of the world but I have been amazed to find that we're actually one of the better places to sit your bum down and get a decent cup of java. Italy is certainly another place like this where you can walk into a cafe and order coffee and not worry about getting served a cup of steaming brown poo. I'm gonna be pretty wired in this country...

















My little sweetie and I sat and watched the sunset on the shores of the Med. Couldn't ask for more.

Last day in London

We spent our last day in London seeing a few more sights and buying some yummy cheeses for our hosts, Haydn and Stasa, before getting packed and going to the airport where we had to sleep over in order to catch our 6am flights the next day. Travel in London is expensive at the best of times and astronomical when the trains and subway aren't running...

Rach on Oxford St - just like on a Monopoly board!










Since we visited Macy's in Noo Yawk we decide to go to Harrods and compare the two. Frankly the Brits kicked the yanks arse. Worthy of note is the tacky memorial to Princess Diana and Dodi Al-Fayed.







Rach got a big kick out of seeing the original Winnie the Pooh stuffed toys in the States and was pleasantly surprised to come across the original drawings at the Victoria and Albert Museum.






Lately we've become aware of a global plot to dumb down museums and the venerable British Museum of Natural History is no exception. Which is a pity because it should be the worlds best place to come and learn about nature and whatnot, rather than another opportunity to make things brightly coloured and overly simplistic.













Our lovely hosts live in Brixton, a predominantly Jamacian neighbourhood. Whenever we take the subway we wander through the local stalls and check out what's on offer.



Electric Ave markets, Brixton.









More hustle-bustle in Brixton.

London, day 2

   A visit to the Tower of London has long been one of Rachel's ambitions, no doubt fueled by all the bodice-rippers I catch her reading when she thinks I'm not looking. So we traipsed off to the ancient fortress first thing this morning. A Beefeater led us around the grounds, pointing out various sites & running over pieces of history associated with the place, and then set us free to explore as we wished.
   The crown jewels were a must see. Quite possibly the most gaudy and ugly pieces of jewelery ever made. Centuries worth of plundering behind armoured glass.
   Another must see, if you ever go to the Tower of London, is in the armoury - Henry VIII's suit of armour with its extra generously sized (length and width) codpiece. Maybe he was really well endowed. Or perhaps he liked keeping a bunch of bananas near his 'crown jewels'.

Deep in one of the catacombs of the castle.















In one room, formerly a jail cell, we come across an elaborate carving in the stone wall made by a former inmate who also happens to be one of Rachel's ancestors - Thomas Peverel. He was a naughty boy some time back in 1570. I had no idea that Rachel's behaviour could be traced back that far.



No visit to London is complete without a visit to Trafalgar Square. Rachel insisted on doing the 'I'm holding a lion in my hand' photo. *sigh*

























Navigator Rachel and her trusty 'A to Z'.









Buckingham Palace, which looks less like a palace and more like a government building.








   After all our wandering we took our sore feet off to an authentic British pub and had a few pints with Haydn and Stasa, our hosts here in London, before finishing the night with another authentic British experience - curry.

London

It's late at night right now and Rachel is tucked in bed, snoring like a baby so I'll make this quick...


We took the train from Cornwall to London. Lovely countryside, rolling hills, and reasonably priced food in the buffet car until you convert it into $NZ and realise that the sandwiches you're eating would pay for a decent meal back home. Ouch. Shoulda packed a cut lunch.


Rach at Paddington station.












On our way to our digs we notice that the Prince Regent, the local pub, has a quiz night on tonight. After dropping off our bags and having a bite to eat we head to the pub for a Guiness (or two) and a few rounds of general knowledge.



Rach 'Einstein' Peverill.

Cornish curiosities

We cruised around some local Cornish sights....

Alex & Mark in St. Ives.

I know this word annoys the locals but it is the only way to describe it: Quaint.

Quainty, quainty, quaint.

Thin labyrinthine cobblestone lanes leading to small doors leading to ye-olde pubs. Yup, quaint.

It's QQ (quaintness-quotient) was beaten only by 'Mousehole', the wee town we visited later on. Just like St. Ives, but minus any tourist/tacky interference & even more rabbit warren-y (or is that mousehole-y?).

Now this is beachfront living.

St. Ives.





Walking out past ruins to a wild headland we nearly stepped on the local wildlife.










Although he was unlikely to be enchanted royalty, I thought I'd better check eh.




Mark, our intrepid host, led us up the rocks over the headland.







Awesomely windy up there.

Great place for pirate spotting I imagine. (Arrrrr)


















Ancient standing stones dubbed The Merry Maidens. I felt pretty fortunate to see a place like this so pristine, almost alone & in such an open space. Very groovy.


Alex & I at Land's End













Next morning the two of us headed off early to make Penzance by low tide so we can walk out to St. Michael's Mount.

This is a place both of us had read about when we were younger so it was quite cool to see.





The path to the island is only dry for about 3 hours at low-tide and is cobbled with lovely yellow blocks.

Very Wizard of Oz.

We had a enjoyable wander around the public areas of the island.


And just as we got off the island it began to rain....

Well, you can't come to England in Winter then complain about the rain so all I will say is that we had a rather 'wild' 40 min walk round the coast back to Penzance & thence caught the train back to Hayle.


I am now trying to get my Doc's dry, sitting in the conservatory, where I can look out over the Moors that the Roberts' home backs on to. They say there are foxes, but I've not seen them yet. Typical. Although we are woken each morning to a tree full of crows - a murder if you will - outside our bedroom window, warbling at the dawn.

So ends our journey through the more rural area's of Ireland & England, for tomorrow we catch the train to the big smoke - London.