Elf's Adventures in black and white... and colour

Every day I wake up and realise how lucky I am to have lived the life I have. Continuing the theme of being blessed, these are a few of the articles I have that have been published... 

Walking the Camino in Spain...

Previously posted on my blog: https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=999579515828153404#editor/target=post;postID=3042124779310839865;onPublishedMenu=posts;onClosedMenu=posts;postNum=110;src=postname

A couple of days hanging out on Bazaruto Island...

Previously posted on my blog: https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=999579515828153404#editor/target=post;postID=4552161581911188102;onPublishedMenu=posts;onClosedMenu=posts;postNum=43;src=postname

A Meander In Memphis

Previously posted on my blog: https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=999579515828153404#editor/target=post;postID=6687092960123801326;onPublishedMenu=posts;onClosedMenu=posts;postNum=18;src=postname

Wandering around 'The Capitol'... 

Previously posted on my blog: https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=999579515828153404#editor/target=post;postID=7468336055441847551;onPublishedMenu=posts;onClosedMenu=posts;postNum=14;src=postname 

Previous posted on my blog: https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=999579515828153404#editor/target=post;postID=1558472504709916543;onPublishedMenu=posts;onClosedMenu=posts;postNum=5;src=postname 

Efes- a beer? Or so I thought...

I beat the man at the end of the bed, I was up and out of the hotel before he even had blinked his first bit of daylight.

Waiting in the reception, it was all the night staff whom I have never met. I gave my room key in and sat down and waited, and waited, and waited. Eventually the younger man asked if we were waiting for someone else, I looked at him and shrugged saying not from my side. He looked at a guy sitting at the computer and said to me, well your driver is waiting. He had been there the whole time! They had thought it was a party of two and I thought the driver was just late.

In a flash, I got spat out at the aeroport just after 6am. I found the airline check-in counter and got my boarding pass. In no time I was sitting on a comfortable plane heading to a place called Izmir.

Leaving Istanbul, the weather was grim, raining and about 5degrees. Arriving in Izmir the weather was sunny and warm. Having no luggage, it was a quick and easy escape. A man was standing outside waiting for me and we walked to the car park to the car. I was disappointed as I was the only one and his information that he parted with was, this is the airport, this is the carpark and over there is the airport. The hour long trip went by quickly as we moved into farming land. My driver informed me that Izmir exports to China, US and Canada with most of the fruit and to Europe with all of the vegetables. For the next 200km, it was peach and oranges and for 900km it was olive country. The countryside was lush with rolling mountains as a back drop in all directions.

We followed signs for Efes or Ephesus as we curved wide roads. In all my visits I had sampled a beer called Efes and thought nothing of it! At close on nine I was dropped off at a travel agency where the reception area was full with travellers. I was relieved as I waved the driver farewell.

Our first stop, we visited the house of Virgin Mary. It was tucked away on a steep hill. Two Popes have visited here, one on 26th July, a significant date as this is when the house was discovered. The house was discovered by a German lady who went around all the hills eliminating the areas as she searched for her house as they were described in her writings.

The house was tiny, simple and completely at peace with its surroundings. It had three rooms and the lay out reminded me off a church. Outside there was a large baptism bath dug into the ground with a back drop of arches.

An Italian Father patiently chatted to two Chinese girls. You could light a candle in the garden while saying a prayer or drink from the sweet mountain spring. An entire wall was covered in bits of paper, similar to the cross along the Camino, this was a wishing wall! People left their wishes next to the sacred house.

Our next stop, the ancient Roman ruins, I battled to come up with a word describing it! Magnificent, mind blowing, amazing, awe-inspiring all don't seem to do it justice. We got dropped off at one spot and walked through the city, we got to see the grand theatre where gladiators roamed fighting terrible beasts or so our tour guide stated. We saw the Goddess Nike, goddess of victory. She was next to her was an old fig tree or Turkish Viagra. The library in all its glory was breath taking. The Roman toilets were fun and interesting as our tour guide or door guide as Anja thought I said, suggested that you should always rush to the first toilet as they didn't have toilet paper, just a constant stream of water to clean yourself. The water flowed in front of all the toilets.

Walking down the marbled streets was just gorgeous, the blue skies and sun shimmering off the roads. Surrounded by sky scraper pillars reaching to the heavens. Apparently 80% of the city still remains buried and preserved. I was amazed we could weave through the buildings, touching the ancient carved walls and pillars.

We spent two hours walking the historic pathways admiring the carvings, touching the sides of two arch ways and making a wish as this was the wishing arch. I looked Medusa in the eye again but seem to have survived!

Our lunch was an all you could eat Turkish buffet. I sampled the long paprika type vegetable, ate a semolina type pudding and thought of tasting Raki- a Turkish liquor.

After lunch we seemed to be kidnapped as we were dropped off at a leather maker, we were entertained with a fashion show with three shop assistances putting on a show, twirls, quick changes along the cat ramp. Myself and a South Korean escaped at the first opportunity but it was interesting as we could not find an exit in the main shop.

Our next stop was the oldest aqueduct in Turkey. We pulled to the side of the road and peered over the side of down into a steep valley. Down at the bottom was a few arches intact where you could get a clear view where the water would have gushed along the top.

After that we stopped in at a Turkish potter where they showed us from start to finish how they made turkish tiles, bowls and other nick nacks.

Our final stop was at one of the seven ancient wonders of the world. The Artemission Temple. Dogs and geese used this as their playground. The site only had rocks scattered around with two examples of the 12th and 17th pillars. An Englishman who built the railways in the 19th century discovered the site and took the majority of the rocks back to England where they are now on display. Our tour guide shared a cute nickname of the site, when he was growing up the area was filled with water and it was their back yard, the kids used to clamber on the ancient carved stones, swim in it but they referred to it as the English Lake because. all of the relics lived in England.

Our day had ended, I had seen so much more than I had expected- including a live fashion show. I was dropped off at the travel agency where a bus was waiting to take me back to the airport.

Heading back, we drove past a look out castle from the Ottoman empire, 1300 years ago. Perfectly situated on the crest of a hill with valleys surrounding three sides. It seems where ever you gaze in Turkey, the history just shouts back at you!

I got back to the hotel and knocked on Anja's door. We strolled up to have our last Chai tea under the Blue Mosque surrounded by apple hubbly bubbly fumes. Her airport transfer left at 02:40 in the morning.

On my final return to the hotel, I thanked the dear Suat down in the reception who has just been so wonderful! I packed my bags and am now ready for chapter two of my adventure. Next stop France!

The Way

The peace and tranquillity of being outdoors, far away from civilisation is soul cleansing and such is the case as you spend time trekking along the Camino de Santiago or The Way of St James.

The Camino is an ancient Catholic pilgrimage in the north of Spain. The main route is usually from the South of France from the town of San Sebastian, nestled in the French Pyrenees and heads west to the awe-inspiring cathedral in the historic town of Santiago de Compostela, close to the Atlantic Ocean on the west coast of Spain. Nowadays a variety of routes can lead you to the cathedral and some pegrenos opt to continue their voyage and go further, catching a glimpse of the mighty Atlantic Ocean.

Everyone’s Camino starts in a different place and everyone’s reason for walking the Camino is as individual as the characters you stumble upon. I met several people who had left their homes months ago, all with the personal aim of landing up in Santiago de Compostela. A couple had spent months cycling from Sweden using different modes of transport to carry them and their hardy bicycles ever nearer, as did a retired wine grower from the North of Italy and an Austrian I met in Santiago, having left in the midst of winter and pedalled the entire way.

The most common way to tackle the Camino is the century old tried and tested hike, but nowadays you can also cycle it or mount a trusty steed to carry you to Santiago, the frowned upon version of driving it is also an option. You carry all your own gear, so packing intelligently and light are essential but stopping for food is a sociable way to meet people.

We had descended on Leon as this was the vibrant hub of all the main transport stops, staying the night before our travels would begin. Home of the most intricate stained glass cathedral in the world, Leon had an inviting European old town feel to it. Soaking up each dappled ray of light that fell from the magnificent centuries old windows was breath-taking and hours ticked by as we slowly circumnavigated the interior.

Cathedrals were the original albergues that housed pegrenos on their epic trail to Santiago; they used to travel from village to village, spending the nights in a house of God. Now-a-days it is totally different experience with a variety of accommodation options in some villages, although the reasoning for forging onwards still remains the same.

For us, we started at arguably the best spot, in the village of Astorga. We spent some time at the Catedral de Santa María de Astorga, admiring yet another feat of Spanish architecture. Time marched on encouraging us to hunt for the pilgrims’ friend, the yellow arrow or sign which would immediately point us in the right direction and continue to guide us to Santiago.

On departing, the horizon glistened with snow-capped peaks, but the weather was a contrasting gloriously warm spring day, the Europeans claiming this spring weather to be a heat wave.

When you are marching forward over a smorgasbord of terrain, for long stretches you have only the chirping birds and sound of your pounding feet hitting the gravel as company. Occasionally you would hear a Buen Camino which would jolt you back to reality as a cyclist would whiz past. This was the greeting and well-wishing or honoured code between pilgrims.

The landscape was ever changing, you would determinedly climb Tour De France like hills, or cruise through lavender lined level dusty paths or amble down steep rocky inclines, but all of it offered the most inspiring breath taking scenery. Some sections you would trudge along tar roads or wander along lush vegetation with a gargling stream flowing next to you or saunter beneath these huge viaducts that soared high above you carrying fast paced vehicles to their destinations. Your surroundings constantly changed, keeping the expedition refreshing and interesting.

Each day, as I looked at the horizon, the dominating whiteness on the mountains decreased and in its place a palette of changing colours, an artist’s dream. I would pause, imagining paths obstructed with easels as painters captured the glorious spring colours as they emerged after their hibernation.

Each town or village that you meandered through had its own feel. We passed derelict villages with ancient stone buildings all slowly crumbling to the ground. On one day we passed two villages, the first situated on a steep winding hill, this village had six inhabitants who had set up shop purely to support the passing pilgrims, offering food and liquid refreshments. The second was in a state of disrepair, two chaps were up on a step ladder weaving leaves together creating shade high above us. They had a pole with a number of large towns being pointed to, the little pointers giving you a rough guide to the distance to each of these places,  Paris 1,000km, New York many more. These two chaps were admirably breathing life back into this place, not having any running water and only recently connecting up to electricity. Observing the surrounds, it looked like the house that they were working on was the only habitable place in the village, with tumbled down stone buildings littering the surrounds.

The highlight for me would have to be the Monastery built in the 6^th Century, having spent the night in Hospital, a few days out from Sarria, at this stage I was travelling with Marc from Belgium and Gary from America. Gary insisted we stop in at the Benedictine Monastery of San Xuliam de Samos in the village of Samos and we managed to catch the tail end of the service.

Sitting at the back we followed all the prompts from the small congregation, standing or kneeling. The priest beautifully sang through a list of saints and then concluded the service. This was the biggest Western Monastery in the world according to Gary. What was really quirky about this town was at the entrance to the town, a small single pump petrol station rescued passing vehicles from dehydration. Towering over the petrol station was the enormous walls of the monastery, and as a car pulled into the bay, a monk wandered out to help.

Another memorable moment was the Iron Cross on the summit of Monte Irago, the cross soars high above a cairn of pebbles, each one individually laid by a pilgrim. The mound of pebbles each represent a wish, a dream, a problem, a failure or a secret and it is Camino tradition to pause here tossing your pebble onto the pile, releasing your burden. Regardless of what people tell you, tossing the stone onto this pile representing so much to so many is completely emotional.

The Camino charges your batteries in so many ways, you hopefully find answers to the questions that were being asked at the beginning of the voyage, and you are invigorated by nature – some people having spent six weeks or longer having the honour of being a pegreno. Everyone prefers to be by themselves, after all, for the majority of pegrenos this is a solo trip and have the joy of travelling at their own pace but you meet some truly humble people. The conversations are intense, somehow missing all the flimsy small talk that we all begin with. 

I caught a train to Santiago, having the fortune of staying one night in this dazzling place. I dumped my bags and wandered across in search of the Cathedral. I glided over cobbled small roads and eventually made the discovery. I entered into the square and was struck by the immense overpowering beauty of the cathedral. I sat for ages, gazing up at the magnitude of the church spirals, the windows, the guardians and statues looking down on the square, taking in as much of the details as I could. I then strolled to a nearby outdoor cafe, relishing a Spanish black rice paella and then made my way back to the cathedral to see it in all its beauty showered by lights at night.

The next day, I went back but this time to soak up the atmosphere. I sat observing the pilgrims as they entered the square. Some punched the air in absolute achievement, some collapsed in a heap sobbing, and others successfully embraced their new found friends. The air was charged with a mixture of emotion as a wonderful journey ended and also began.

The Camino, every moment of it is special, every moment of it is treasured. It is an odyssey where you discover so much about yourself, Buen Camino!