Lake Maggiore to French Geneva, via Switzerland

We departed Lake Maggiore for a day that would see us cross three countries (or at least the corners of each); Italy, Switzerland and France.  We are in an area where the tip off each touch, but it seems curious to be in one, then the other, then another, in the space of a few hours.

Maggiore is backed by the alps which we immediately turned towards, and in due course entered a river gorge which would wind its way to the Simplon Pass and across in to Switzerland. The rock here appears to be mainly granitic or possibly dolomite or some hard limestone derivative, but anyway rather than crumbling into scree slopes it produces steep even vertical faces and is a lighter coloured rock.  The gorge was spectacular with its high walls and as we wound up the road gaining hight the views opened more to show the alps around us. All the way up the buildings became more and more Swiss like, with their wooden hamlets, steep roofs, decorative embellishments and baskets of flowers hanging outside the windows. The forest was interesting, it started with broadleaf lowland forest including oaks and birches, then transitioned to pure pine forest ('have these all been planted?' asked someone.) (No.) Then larch higher up, often pure stands of it and then much higher, alpine meadows.  Towards the top of the tree line maybe in the 4-6'000ft band (??) we started noticing green meadows amongst the high forests. These are summer grazing sites, each with a small hamlet and a few cows dotted around, each wearing a sizeable bell on account of no fencing.  Apparently the small holders retire their cows indoors for winter then walk them ups to their high summer grazing. On the top of the pass at about 6,500ft there were nearby cows and the sound of the clonking of their bells was captivating. Very small scale almost domestic scale farming, but so charming.  I could imagine myself spending a summer in a high hamlet, the occasional check that the cows are ok, brewing coffee on the wood fired stove, wandering the tops. 

Down the other side of the saddle with the vegetation sequence in reverse, then a drive through the very very intensively populated and managed valley floors. That was how it was throughout the Swizzled drive, tight valley floors and mountainous on both sides. 

We stopped for lunch in a town where an art exhibition was in progress; Rodin the sculptor. As it happens it was also a roman town and had been mapped, scanned and dug in great detail, with a museum housing the incredible artefact collection. Outdoors was a small but decent Roman amphitheatre, parts of the roman town partly exposed and a section of original roman road with large paving stones. These roman sites seem to go throughout Italy, France and Spain plus anywhere else in the roman empire, although Italy is king for the sheer visibility of its roman heritage, often overlaid with an equally visible medieval heritage.  

Our drive, a longish day by the time it was over, took us to lake Geneva which has both a Swiss and a French side. We headed to our small town Yvoire, on the french side.  These borders are culturally blurred, as if there is a multicultural district either side of the border, rather than a sharp 'snap' between what is one country or the other. The borders themselves you usually miss, there is no stopping required and often just a modest sign. 

Yvoire has an outstanding medieval walled centre, which our hotel was beside. We enjoyed wandering inn and out of the centre, but also visited Geneva and a trip highlight - Chamonix, at the foot of Mont Blanc.  

Meanwhile on the first night we had the hilarious experience of eating a fondue for dinner. It was a legend in NZ in the 70's or so, but here its a tradition. A large pot of bubbling hot cheese and white wine, and very good cheese at that. Bread and forks for dipping, more white wine to wash it all down. They don't mess around here with cheese, they eat it constantly (although generally not in quantity, that's more our forte) and the variety is incredible. This is also the home of the hard cheese Compte, one off the greats. We could not resist buying a bit in the market and bringing it back to the hotel. 

While the lake is France/Switzerland, the city itself I believe is all Swiss, and being a non aligned nation, not in the Eurozone or nato etc it is home to many international agencies. Lots of flags and people of all races all striding around, on the phone, or in limos etc.  United Nations headquarters etc etc. One little plus for me was to visit a good cigar shop, Geneva being a good source of genuine havanas and the place I have mostly bought them from, on line. 

The city has a lake frontage, beautifully clean water and in the distance a wonderful view of Mont Blanc.  I previously presumed it was just an undistinguished lump, but no it's a stunner, with several high peaks and soaring ridges.  A day later we drove into Chamonix, the ski resort at its base. The drive in takes you past soaring cliffs that reminded me of Yosemite (not that Ive been there) and then higher mountains, ice snow and glaciers. At Chamonix itself we took two cable cars to about 7,500ft, to look across onto the Mont Blanc massif. What an absolute thrill to look across a single valley, onto this great mountain. The cable car network and generally facilities are staggering.  There would have been scores even hundred of people using the cable carts to get them and their paragliders up onto the high ridges, where they then dotted the sky with bright spots of colour.  We also saw a dozen or so climbers on the steep granite faces adjacent to the cable cars, along with many mountain bikers and walkers. But ultimately the mountains did all the talking and we just felt so happy to be there, at a reasonable altitude and surrounded by these great alps. 

Lake Como to lake Maggiore, via Barbareso, Piemonte.

Lake Maggiore is a further Italian lake, near the alps, that has a history dating to Roman times as a desirable and prestigious location with exceptional scenic beauty. As a result some of the treasures of Italy are found here in the form of venerable buildings often on one of the lake islands, which are accessed by a ferry system which circulates the lake of a full time basis. We were on our way for three nights there, with the days to be spent ferrying the lake to some of its many attractions. 

On the day off travel, not being a very long drive, we diverted  for a few hours to the wine growing district of Barbaresco, in Piedmonte.  These being wines we buy and know to a degree, this was greatly anticipated. Piedmonte ('foot off the alps') is hill country backed by the alps, moderately steeply valleyed but not rocky, covered in very groomed vineyards.  Dwellings consist of extremely picturesque buildings usually clustered on high ground, which greatly add to the scenic beauty and usually involve a church or other older and larger building or two.  We visited a wine estate and tried their wines, quite a few in fact. The owner bustled out the back and came in with another bottle, quite a lot off times! The NZ palette is not very familiar with the wine styles and so there is a bit of resistance to these drier, more tannic and less fruity wines., They can be a bit harder to taste separately but come to life with food, particularly the local cuisine alongside which they have evolved.  So we moved on with a good supply of wine to a local restaurant and experienced one of the standout dining experiences to date.  In a small village at the cap of a hill, otherwise in a sea of vineyard slopes. Outside of course, on a burning hot day, but in a stone walled courtyard under a spacious canvas awning. The food was very unexpected in style and mostly served by waiting staff from large platters. First up they spooned out a generous amount of what appeared to be raw ground beef, but turned out to be beef tartare with olive oil, lemon, herbs and seasoning and it was awesome. Even those freaked out by the sight (and amount) of it said OMG.  Before it was finished a spoon or two of dish two was served, basically a potato salad with herbs, greens and a bright yellow egg yolk mayo. Again it was incredible.  Dish three was lightly baked garden greens, tipped neatly from a ramekin and smothered in bearnaise sause.  Dish four did some damage to the appetite: a mound of the most finely cut pasta with crumbs of veal and a rich veal sauce.  Its getting blurry about now, but my photos confirm that next came roast guinea fowl then a desert of dabs of chocolate ganashe.  Throughout this the waiting staff bustled about and the owner passed through several times, beaming and welcoming everybody.  I wandered around after the meal to check I was still able to walk and found the office of Produttori del Barbaresco, the wine from this district that we most often encounter at home.  I wandered in and told the lass that, but she was indifferent probably because it mean no sale. Or maybe she didn't understand a word I said. 

We commented to the vineyard owner that we saw no netting on the heavy crop of grapes, and he said 'we have no birds.' We had noticed this in the forests of lake Como: zero birds. The odd lake bird but no land birds. Nothing. The answer on both occasions was that the netting and shooting of small birds, any species, is standard. They net 'em, pluck 'em, roast 'em, eat 'em. There is also the factor that bird migration is common across Europe, with most species moving to some degree to accommodate hotter summers and colder winters. Down south on the poorer fringes of the mediterranean, especially the north African coastline, the netting of migrating birds is rife.  Im glad we didn't sign up for a natural history trip as we would have been disappointed; in the places we have been to date there is little to no room for anything outside of human modification. 

Anyway on to Maggiore, through North Italy countryside although it is fairly congested every inch seemingly under human use. Animal farming for example is done indoors, with feed being bought in. Our guide offered 5 euros for any sighting of a cow, they are simply invisible.  We enjoyed the mosaic of olive groves, vineyards, fruit trees, industrial precincts and towns, as we passed through. One particularly long section of roadway passed through a rice growing district, stretching as far as the eye could see on either side. Divided by water races and water gates to flood the field at planting time. I didn't think of Italy as a rice grower but of course they eat it on a grand scale and in many forms, which they do grow. The races are full of frogs we heard, and there were some white herons and egrets about and on account of their presence some larger raptors wheeling about.  Maybe the herons taste too fishy for the locals?

Then over the hill and and new lake - Maggiore!  Versus lake Como this is a large and broad lake, but again surrounded by gorgeous mountains. Dammit I thought we had the best mountains and Europes were rubbish. (No.)  The next three days were a whirlwind of ferrying on midsized diesel powered passenger boats, and exploring place after place usually exceedingly grand in scale often housing art collections, historical items and sweeping gardens.  My brain is a bit fuzzy on the details for example their names and history (which we will sort out when assembling some photos which as you know we can be relied upon to do immediately after any trip.)  But the general impression is a heavenly collection of great classic structures and gardens atop islands and promontories, reflecting centuries of wealth and privilege, a deep Roman to Medieval to present history,  a devotion to art sculpture and stonework and a stunning lake setting in a mountainous district. One place I remember, seeing I better describe at least one, was a bedroom in which Napoleon slept.  A large ie huge second floor (or more) room with no windows but pillared arches forward of the bed. Everything in marble. Each arch framing a magnificent view of the lake and mountains. Crystal chandelier like the final explosion of a fireworks display, colourful tiled floors. Simplicity and magnificence.

 It is inconceivable that any of these places could be built today the element of centuries of time, effort, craftmanship and wealth seems to be the only way there.  However now they are there for all to visit and are revered and rightly so as historical treasures. Bigger is a definite theme as a rule the buildings are enormous. 

Many are controlled so that you enter one door and can only pass out one other, but requiring you to walk through every room in the house. Holy MOG its a long walk.  It was so hot and visitor numbers is an issue, everything was packed with people and at the end of this leg of the trip much as we were impressed and awed with the place it was great to go.  We did also enjoy some quieter times having a cold drink at a table by lakeside, admiring the mountains which were to be a feature of our next place of visit. 

Verona, Lake Como and Milan.

We drove by bus from Venice to lake Como, visiting Verona en route and with a day in Milan from our Lake Como base. 

The flat country from Venice until Lake Como is motorway country, and heavily populated, but with mountains to the north where the villages start to achieve a bit more distance between them.  Verona is towards the hills and a decent sized city, with several claims to fame.  It is the continuation of a Roman town, with its Roman remains considered more visible than most Italian towns, Rome obviously excepted. Sections of the town have been excavated to show the Roman basement, and elsewhere Roman walls and entrances are still standing in various states of repair. Some of those ruins predate the Colosseum in Rome and are about the time of Christ, an eerie sensation standing beside them.

In the centre of the city is the courtyard and balcony that inspired Shakespeares Romeo and Juliet. No doubt reconstructed, upgraded or whatever, but a magnet for visitors including ourselves. It starts as a covered walkway, a stone tunnel, that leads from the street into a small courtyard, enclosed by double story houses overlooked by the first floor balcony of Juliet.  The place was packed with people, from a throng outside on the street to the crowds going in and out of the courtyard itself. 'Never seen it so quite' claimed Judith (Cullen.) The tunnel was lined with many depths of posted notes stuck to the wall as far as could be reached, declarations of love usually involving a few written words, or a heart with names or initials, and often dates.  Under the balcony sat a lovely bronze salute of Juliet, almost impossible to photograph as hoards of people pressed in for a photo of themselves standing beside it.  Out in the city we also noticed that declarations of love were spilling out onto other walls and the bridge over the river was also collecting locked padlocks which we have seen in Paris, where one bridge is laden with locked padlocks as the couples 'lock their hearts together' with that gesture.  We could relate to it and liked it enormously that this was place where this was happening. 

Verona also has a superb Roman amphitheater, its outer wall quite intact and the internal space converted to an expansive opera venue.  Oh to go to go there during opera season!  Outside was a display of photographs of the amphitheatre in action over the years.  I found (and photographed) a photo from 1929 to show Nigel and Ruth.

Driving on to Lake Como, we left the flats and crossed through a range off hills, with a wow view of the town of Como as we passed through the saddle.  The town sits at the foot of the lake, which winds up a narrow glacial valley, with steep hills on both side fully clad in deciduous forest.  The town is the usual concentration of orange tiled, densely packed villas, but so pretty with its lakeside frontage. Continuing up the lakeside road we oggled at the beautiful villas right down to lakeside, with majestic old trees like the Stone Pine, Himalayan Cedar and Italian Cyprus.  Clearly a very luxury district, featuring waterfront gardens, private boat harbours and ramps, but serviced by a very narrow winding road, often walled on one or both sides.  Above the roadway the buildings gave way to the backdrop of steep forest leading to the ridge lines. Looking up the lake the mountains and ridge lines disappeared into haze, making a dreamy alpine backdrop to the lake and its clusters of villas in the bays. 

The next day we drove further up the lake, which is not unlike Wakatipu and Queenstown in so far that it is a deep, clean, cold narrow lake with steep sided hills and mountains, and a narrow roadway with houses above and below that road. There the similarities end as Lake Como's architecture and residences are in a class of their own almost exclusively in stone with the terra cotta roof tiles and everything else that makes them Italian.  We visited two gardens and villas, the first Villa del Balbianello, famed as a filming location  for the Bond film Quantum of Solace.  On a privately  owned, forested peninsula, the house and gardens sit on the tip of the promontory, with many terraces and a stone boat landing. The buildings are traditional but sumptuous and holding superb art collections. The gardens are groomed from tip to tail, in the great classic style including stone pines, cyprus and oak. Semi formal in nature and as carefully groomed as a Japanese garden but on a large scale not miniaturised, including the grooming of many large old trees. One of them, a dome topped Holm Oak, is pruned annually as the gardeners climb the tree from within, pop their heads out of the canopy, and clip a section to finally produce a velvet textured dome well off the ground and perhaps 15 or more metre across. A truly sensational setting and garden.  Have photos.

Further up the lake we visited a second fine garden then ferried home, stopping at all the small wharfs on the way down the lake. The gardens are great up close but they are also very striking from a distance, where their great trees and buildings can be seen in perspective. You would recognise the style immediately it's just what you think Italian/Mediterranean/lakeside/seaside classic grandeur should look like.

An excursion from Lake Como took us into Milan, fashion capital of Italy. There are certainly a lot of well groomed and presented people around here, in that simple but elegant style Italy seems to have.  The men probably in pale trousers, tan belt and leather shoes, a crisp shirt and sunglasses, the women in a wide range of outfits with the dress being common and always elegant. Sunnies, handbags, chic accessories etc.  Not to mention n the footwear!!  No time of the day seems to be wrong to be well dressed, versus us grubby hobbits.

Milan was bombed to near oblivion in WW2 and the one hill in the city is comprised of the rubble that was gathered in that one place, before the city was rebuilt. It's cathedral the 'Milan Duomo' was hit but not decimated and is restored. It features an exceptional number of thin roof spires, literally a forest of them. Quite a sight. Then the cavernous interior, not so extravagant as many, supported by massive and distinctive columns.  We didn't take the elevator up to walk on the roof space amongst the forest of spires on account of the lightening, thunder and rain, but it still looked wonderful from ground level and slightly reminiscent, I thought, of the flambouyantly towered Sagrada Familia in Barcelona. 

But the main event in Milan was to visit Leonardo Da Vinci's 'Last Supper, ' a fresco painted on a wall. It is revered globally but more so in Milan, as it survived the almost complete decimation of the building in WW2 and was virtually the only piece of wall left standing.  Locals refer to it as ''the miracle of Milan' - we heard that phrase on a number of occasions when the painting was mentioned. The building has been rebuilt around the painting; solely, it appears, to house that item. 

Bookings are required well in advance and viewers are admitted in batches of about 30, for a period of 15 minutes. It commences with access into the building and a locker room for all belongings, although a camera was permitted. The group passed through security then entered a decompression chamber where we stood for several minutes in a low pressure zero humidity environment, to reduce the level of moisture being carried in.  We then walked into the chamber where the fresco was painted on an end wall, in a room about 10m x 30m.  The Da Vinci occupies most of the wall and must be at least 8m wide, so much larger than expected. It shows its antiquity and also the deterioration caused by its oil and tempera mix of pigments, but the condition is still good. Perfectly lit of course, it glows with energy and soft colour. A guide gave us a 5 minute or so history and explanation of the painting, then we could sit and admire it (several rows of seating provided) or walk closer and stand behind a rail, perhaps 3m distant.  We knew we were experiencing one of those moments of a lifetime, to have a few minutes in front of it.  The subject matter is well known and means a lot to some, but that aside it is a wonderful painting with its luminous colour, drama and brilliance plus it is one of the defining works of Da Vinci that encapsulates that period in history.  

From Lake Como our trip was now headed for Lake Maggiore, another of those Italian alpine lakes that are so full of history and civilisation. 

Four nights in Venice

Venice is a group of islands in the centre of an extensive lagoon, that is accessed by trains and vehicles via a single causeway, or by boat. We arrived at the airport on the mainland, over heavily populated and industrialised land, then walked a surprisingly short distance from the airport to our boat taxi for the ride into Venice city. The boat trip in is a thrill, approaching the tile roofed city including many grand buildings especially churches, then turning into the Grand Canal itself, a substantial winding canal separating the two sides of the heart of the city and a parade of super substantial buildings. Other boat traffic chugged and zoomed around us while we craned our necks for views and photos. Then we swung into a narrow side canal and soon arrived at a minute landing, the boat access to our hotel, a Palazzio. Invited later to introduce the property to our small group, the modest owner said (in thickly accented English) 'there is nothing much to say, other than our family has been here for 600 years.' The other side of the building opened onto a narrow lane, which ran a short distance to a Piazza, a square, which was surely the centre of the community and housed a covered water well, a church, and several bars and eateries. That seemed to be the pattern, alternating narrow canals occasionally bridged, and narrow lanes, all leading at regular intervals to a piazza. Zero vehicles other than boats. Not even bicycles. The charm of the city is immediately apparent and you can see why it would be loved by anyone visiting it. Tile roofed buillings packed together interlaced by canals and narrow streets and walkable in any direction. Being a very old city it exudes its ancient past including a great number of unbelievably grand churches and other buildings. Even the typical piazza church has a cavernous, sombre interior and evidence of a deep history. About 55,000 people permanently reside in Venice city and add a great deal of interest to the place. They seemed most evident on the waterways, plying the canals in their boats, then in the piazzas as families gathered in the evening. They largely ignored the visitor traffic and got on with heir lives as best they could, in the midst of incredible numbers of people, at times and particularly in the popular central places such as the spacious Piazza San Marco, with its Venice defining San Marco Basilica, a marvel of history, architecture, grandeur and sheer beauty. At the basilica we saw one of our highlights, a set of life sized horse cast in copper, dating from late second century AD. They predate the basilica and were war bounty, from Constantinople. Brimming with drama and energy, stunning. We walked the streets, crossed the canals by bridge and the grand canal by boat, covering as much as we could and walking ourselves to a standstill. The heat did not help and a cold drink or two in the piazza was a welcome end to the day before crashing to bed. The mix of grandeur particularly lining the grand canal, and everyday living doesn't stop the city being very liveable, very human, maybe because everything there is the result of many centuries of human activity so the city very much has a soul and is comfortable and welcoming. We saw the principle central sights then boated to some of the other islands, especially to see the centre off the glass blowing and lace making industries, and to experience the boating that is such a feature of this maritime city. We watched a glass blower in action, turning out a vase and a 'ferrari' horse, then wandered the retail areas marvelling at the chandeliers and every conceivable glass item. Sadly back in the central city chinese copies are common but not in the districts where the glass is produced. Another very curious sight was Venices answer to the leaning tower of Pisa, a tall tower on precarious lean. No-one seemed bothered about it but we we incredulous that it stayed upright. Later on back in the central city we noticed another not quite straight tower and also signs of buildings subsiding, with their uneven roof lines and non vertical walls. Otherwise we were told that the city is quite stable as the floor o the lagoon has, fortuitously, a deep stable clay base that the original city set timber pillars into and provided a base for solid fill. Boating back from the islands on the sunday afternoon, the lagoon was a riot of boats of all sizes, from an elderly gent standing and rowing a battered dingy, to passenger ferries to sleek speed boats. We especially admired some of the polished teak speedboats, usually with a bare chested male of any age at the wheel and his bikini clad lady beside him or even lying on the back deck to soak up the sun. On all levels the boat was prominent and the centre of a truly maritime life style. Im sure every resident would have a craft of some sort and much of the additional sunday traffic was probably moored on the mainland, with those residents treating the lagoon as their watery playground. This was highlighted by one of our lunch spots, an island accessible only by boat and small craft at that. A narrow canal split the island which boast moored up on both sides, before the occupants ambled on to one of the very extensive restaurants, seated under expanses of umbrellas and sail cloths. On that same island we visited one of the oldest churches, founded in 639 ad on the arrival of the body of a saint, now lying in state under a gold death mask. The church was fascinating it had been built entirely from recycled roman remains, so had marble columns and mosaic floors in chips of colourful stone. An original gold leaf fresco was being restored otherwise the church showed its great age although the stonework is all there. city Back in Venice central, our four nights finally come to a finish and we boated back out, casting our last gazes over this unique and glorious place.

Dubai, 22 Sept 2019

The Dubai leg is over and we are sitting in the airport waiting for the flight to Venice. Dubai was going to be a 'stopover rest' but we gave it a good whack and were on the go most of the time. The city is impressive it sits like a city of the future in a post apocalyptic landscape: a narrow but longish strip hard up against the Arabian sea, and the other side a desert. The desert is more brown than white and a fine grey dust blows continually over the city. The city generates its electricity by oil fired generators and its water is desalinated from the gulf waters. They throw that water over everything including gulf courses, palm tree avenues and green parks, but with a bit of elevation you see where the water finishes and the desert waste begins. Any romantic notions you might have of the desert are dispelled by the searing heat wafting over the town and the flat dirty dustiness commencing at the cities edge. Dubai citizens comprise 20% of the population and the rest are on working or visitor visas. The citizens share in the wealth of the nation with first pick of professions, financial support into the chosen field of work, free housing, free medical care, free electricity, education and a raft of mega privileges. The men dress in pristine white gowns and arabic headgear, the women in shimmering black dress and burka. Their eyes are heavily made up and they lash through the narrow slit in their facial garb. The locals come across as insular, complacent, indifferent and did not interact with us versus the friendly 80% non citizens from every corner of the earth, there for the the high incomes and many with family back home. The proceeds of being an oil producing nation are lavishly and extravagantly thrown into infrastructure and buildings on the most grandiose scale they are capable of. Huge construction sites dot the city and all the talk is 'bigger and better'. A very sobering insight into the human race when you think it is mostly the product of being an accidental oil producer, perched mostly no more than a few metres above sea level but indifferent to potential sea level rise - they will sort it if it happens. We visited some of the grand sights such as 'largest mall in the world', tallest building in the world', wettest fountain in the world etc etc. and found it all very spectacular. Outside the heat, in the mid forties, was heavy going but the indoors are air-conditioned throughout so the outdoors were just a scamper zone between air conditoned spaces. At night there was more foot traffic as the city was lit up in fantastic high rise light and water shows, although the heat remained brutal. Taxis abounded, all sitting with motors idling all day, to run the aircon. Petrol is NZ$1 per litre. The malls were thrilling places to watch the procession of people, most exotic including much african especially arabic and moslem related. The same themes in the food which we loved; a high degree of vegetarian cooking and lots of exotic and spiced foods, often prepared in ways that you couldn't discern the original ingredients. Very fresh and healthy. Dubai appears to make nothing itself and buys everything in, and that means everything. Vegetables for example come shrink wrapped and labelling features their country of origin. As a result commodity prices are very high but locals probably don't give stuff as it is all irrelevant to their salaries. The car fleet reflects that with Mercs and Beamers being their toyotas, and bentleys, rolls, maseratis etc otherwise abound. We heard some of the sports versions in the wee hours of the morning, as the V12 maseratis etc were given a workout in the otherwise empty streets. Having said the there were zero police in evidence, my theory being that it is a very punitive culture and they harshly treat their miscreants, plus there are enormous financial incentives for the cooperating citizen, so that conformity is the norm and the risks af stepping outside the law are way too high. Thats my theory anyway, that conformity, peer pressure and self policing is standard. Funnily enough its not all bad, as they give a way some individualism but don't get some of the problems associated with wanton, destructive individualism. Wouldn't suit us though. One of our highlights was afternoon tea, an Arabic tradition, in the sky restaurant of the Burg al Arab hotel, a stunning futuristic building standing alone on the waters edge and Dubais only 7 star hotel. Two couples went each paying NZ$650 for the afternoon tea, which comprised of a glass of champagne, a cup of fine tea, and 7 courses of small bites such as the opener- caviar on a small bliny with a cauliflower cream and a sliver of gold leaf. We got a private car to drive us the 20km or so there (another $100 down the tube) but at least we got to briefly experience a life of gratuitous excess financed by the commodity (oil) that will probably bring the globe to its knees, in due course. The evening hour courtyard bars were interesting as people gathered to smoke hooka pipes, supplied at each table, although the substance being smoked smelt like the sort of stuff used in electronic cigarettes. Alcohol is not available in most places the exception seeming to be tourist locations, where our predilection for the stuff is tolerated usually with dam aweful wine list and a few spirits. So Dubai was a hyperactive yet placidly peopled city, a bubble in an unrelenting environment, insulated from that environment to the extent that the outdoors hardly mattered. The city could be on Mars and that's exactly what it looked like viewed from the top of the tallest building; aqua gulf waters on one side, then a soaring inner city of glassed towers, then the city outskirts a tangle of building sites and slowly waving cranes, then the desert with the far horizon not visible in the dusty haze.

More Andalucia, Spain.

Rhonda, Granada and Malaga are our last three destinations in southern Spain. The drive from Sevilla to Tonda had the usual dramas getting out of the vipers nest that is the centre city traffic, then into the country which in this case was via a lesser two lane roadway. But we were immediately struck by the countryside and the drive into (and later out of) Ronda has been a highlight. It is mixed granite and limestone country with quite high mountains, cut into a beautiful landscape that is cultivated with olive groves, cereals (now golden at this time of year) and also some pastoral grazing. The mix of spectacular terrain and detailed cultivation is striking. Also popping up were the 'white towns', old villages of closely packed buildings often strategically located on hilltops, but sparkling white in their whitewash finish. The sun must bleach the whitewash as it not just white but exceedingly white, as if everything was painted just yesterday. The sight of theses occasional white villages, in a golden landscape under the glare of a hammeringly hot sun tempted us to drive right into one in the hope of a good photo. Negotiating the single car width steep, stonewalled and roughly cobbled streets made us recall earlier situations but we got out in one piece, not without some doubts that we would. The town was called Zahara de la Sierra, perched on a crag overlooking an unexpected feature, a lake that held trout, no less. We did our best to find and walk to some further outdoor photographic vantage points but mon dieu the sun had it in for us and the vehicle air con was a lifesaver. Our appreciation of the rationale for the afternoon meal and siesta increases with time! Anyway the drive was so good we just wanted to drive on, through the bold granite mountains, sweeping grain fields and olive groves. We were climbing in altitude and near the high point of a saddle, with the rocky faces closer, we chanced across a group of Griffon Vultures wheeling in a thermal ahead of the car. We stopped, fortuitously above a gully where three more birds were taking off. They are a large broad and deep winged species, over 2.5 metres in span including those long separating flight feathers at wing tip. Masters of the air, these dinner table sized wings are seldom flapped in flight. We watched the three birds below us, perhaps only 100m away, slowly circle gain height and finally disappear into the burnt sky. Their slow, deliberate, meticulous thermalling was impressive to watch, not that they aren't also quite ugly bastards with their bald reptilian heads and necks, designed for carcass plunging. We stayed about 15 km out of Ronda, in a building we were told was 7th century in origin, some sort of mill house. For our first evening we headed into town; yet another fabulous old stone and tile white town, this time built either side of a very narrow deep gorge that provides part of the towns defensive arrangements, the rest being the standard stone walls and gateways with the two halves of the town linked by a dramatic, narrow stone bridge across the gorge. The next day our only full day in Ronda was quite a day, one that just ticked over without almost any hitch, not always the case on our travels. I have to detail it, even if does seem a bit too good. We slept in, had a damn good breakfast then a drive into the hills to a Roman site: Ronda was established several centuries BC as a Roman town, on our side of what is now the town centre. The drive in was itself wonderful, winding up through stands of oak, olive groves and some cattle grazing. The mountains around Ronda are fantastic granite, and fantastic in anyones language. The ruins of the town are on a hillside and hilltop, with extensive piles of stones being the remnants of dwellings, but also some recognisable floor plans including bathhouse, but best of all a remnant amphitheatre. The seating was cut into the bedrock, forward of which was a substantial remnant of the quite massive frontage and stage. We could not believe we were the only ones there and could sit and drink the place in without another soul about. It can be hard to connect with these places; you might admire and photograph them but its hard to totally fathom the reality of there being a Roman culture on the ground and there, pre Christ and quite literally in the time of the likes of Caesar. This place was an exception, we felt it. Elated by that experience we hit the crowds of Ronda, crossing the stone bridge and admiring the clifftop views and white town, with some tapas and cold beer added in. Then back to our hotel in its country setting, for a bit of pool lounging in their very nice gardens. Early evening we went to a guitar recital in town, Spanish guitar of course with the artist being the principal of a guitar school, who performs as part of the schools income. They take this instrument very seriously here, including the hand making of the instruments themselves. We had an hour immersed in the music, played in a very tiny auditorium with nothing but small platform and very plain seats. The musician, a women, was spellbinding in her expertise and delivery of the exciting flamenco guitar music of the region. We drove home just as night fell, to a nice dinner at the hotel. It was so balmy that we couldn't do anything but sit out in the courtyard post meal, and enjoy the night for a while. A white walled paved courtyard, with citrus and other trees dotted about. An occasional wall light each with a resident gecko chasing insects attracted to the light, and the occasional rough little 'yap' that geckos make. Frogs and an owl were also calling, the owl soundining initially like a small dog 'woof' but then another joining in, which settled the matter - Owls. A dark sky with a few stars and the heat of the day still lying heavily. Just magic but tiredness eventually drove us to bed. The next morning we left Ronda, for Granada. Exiting Ronda was just as good as arriving, with a drive through quite mountainous areas cultivated fields and yes those stunning white towns. Granada is a decent sized city and our hotel a coach travel hotel, so loaded with people. The city is renowned for its moorish influences and we headed into town to walk the streets and see the spice houses, tea rooms and crafts like marquetry (wood inlaying) and ceramics. Next day a great highlight, a visit to La Alhambra, a walled fortified town on a ridge overlooking the city, which houses several palatial residences dating from about 12 century onwards. Moorish (Arabic) initially then Christian, post the Christian conquering of southern Spain. Again a stunning experience of the lavish architecture of Spanish history - Shanti in her element and slotting Spanish history into her existing knowledge of medieval Britain and France. Walking down from The Alhambra into Central Granada is via a broad town belt of trees. We heard, as we have elsewhere in Spain, a very cheery song bird. This time we found the artist - the European Robin, ('Robin Redbreast' in England.) Smaller than expected, between an NZ Robin and Tomtit in size (and demeanour) with the red breast more an orange red. But very pleased to get a good close look of an icon of English literature and especially children's story telling. Then on with the descent from the woodland park into the tight cobbled streets of the upper city. Like pretty much every other city or town we visited we greatly enjoyed heading into central Granada, the old historic town centre and revelling in its narrow streets, shops, markets and of course plazas cafes and bars. The drive to Makaga took us to the Mediteraneum shore, finally. Initially the drive was through the Sierra Mountains, surprisingly high including spots of snow on top (they ski here in winter.) Again every arable inch was cultivated with olives, almonds, cereals if the paddock was large enough, and other crops especially sunflowers. But dry with little sign if irrigation. The mountains decline in scale towards the coast but to foothills not flats. So the Mediteraneum coastline around Malaga is cliffs and bays of various sizes, with tight little towns in the bays and villas on the promontaries. This is the sunshine coast of Spain and apparently expat land - sell the musty home in the UK and get and apartment or villa if you can afford one. Sleep in, brunch, lie on beach, long liquid lunch and siesta, then get trollied into the wee hours. We saw plenty of candidates, looking the worst for wear on the life style, if turning exceedingly brown, tubby and losing all dress sense in favour of flip flops and bright cottons is a bad thing? (I say yes.) We dived off the motorway into one of these towns with the standard rat nest of winding streets, and found the stony beach. Plenty of people on it but not crowded, and Shanti revelled in a paddle in the so clean water. I promised her we would find a Mediterraneum venue one day for her to swim in and with that agreed we pushed on into Malaga. Malaga was in effect a transition town for us, a stopover for our flight into Madrid. But yet another historic town that was a joy to walk around and finish the southern Spain experience with a rooftop restaurant dinner, with views of roman ruins, medieval walls and swifts included. The locals take it all in their stride but us visitors are gob smacked by it and wander aimlessly around like lost souls, peering at everything.