Prague - The Land of Stories

Billed as the land of stories, the capital of the Czech Republic surely features in a variety of tales, and now it stars in a few of mine.

Prague is pretty, delightfully so and it certainly is a tourist hotspot. At times, I felt a tad bit like a salmon swimming upstream. Old Town is steeped in history, the buildings magnificent – of course, set in Europe.

I snuck in for the 2017 FIBA European Women Basketball Championships; my days were filled with exploring the delights of Old Town and surrounds, and my evenings filled with cheering for Les Bleus in the early stages of the tournament.

Home for the duration was a wonderful, comfortable, friendly spot; Parkhotel was a fab tram ride away from all the main touristy action but a short stroll to the arena. In my hood, attractions included the Planetarium, the home of ice hockey team HC Sparta Praha, the Výstaviště exhibition grounds, Křižíkova amphitheatre which boasts a dancing water fountain and the giant glass pyramid of the Goja Music Hall.

My first morning I got wondrously lost. Discovering, that my map reading skills had a slight flaw when weary from all the travel. In my aimless wanderings, I stumbled upon the 2017 ICF Canoe Slalom World Cup, on display a multitude of talents surfing rapids alongside the Vltava River. Having only ever seen this on the box during the Olympics, I watched with sheer admiration as these paddlers challenged the torrent of water, zigzaggedly navigating their way around a hanging course.

I strolled beyond the impressive Troja Castle, snuggly set away from the road. Passing the massive expanse of the Prague Zoo, all the way to a dead-end: a dock entitled Podhoří. Deciding that perhaps now was either a good time to turn around, or ask for directions, as there wasn’t anyone to question I did a U-turn and made my way back to the Zoo entrance. Here, I hopped on the first public bus, not knowing which direction it was going but sure I would get somewhere more central, and I wasn’t wrong.

Apart from basketball, I had one reservation on my itinerary that I was eager not to miss at a craft brewery, Výtopna. I discovered this place through social media and was keen to try it due to its quirkiness. Set on the top floor in a massive upmarket shopping centre called the Palladium, I went and had lunch there, not once but twice. The menu offered traditional, hearty, affordable, simple food with a small but interesting choice of beers on-tap.

What sets Výtopna apart is the fact that my ‘waiters’ Erik, Marcel and Nela dropping off my liquid refreshments, were in actual fact gorgeous model trains. The ‘waitrons’ travel over 10kms of tracks every day, having served, astonishingly, over 6 million patrons in the three Výtopna restaurants in the Czech Republic since 2009. The Palladium Výtopna has over 400m of tracks cleverly laid around booths, where the trains can chug into your section, allow you to grab your drinks and then expertly reverse out.

As with most first world cities, getting around Prague to see the sights, everything imaginable is on offer. If you fancied a horse-drawn carriage; running tours; guided electric bikes; the Hop On – Hop Off bus; river cruises, or even handsome vintage cars, you could comfortably get around. Chatting to Durban’s Chef, Andrew Draper on his return from Prague, he mentioned a fabulous outing around deserted buildings and communist areas on a Segway. He said the abandoned, ruined stadium, especially stood out for him!

Prague, mostly, is flat so I opted for trams to get central and then ND 10 toes to get around. The trams were easy to navigate, sprouting off in all directions.

Years ago, after a trip to Paris, I posted a pic of a bridge in Paris, Annie - a Finnish mate of mine commented that she liked my shot of Charles Bridge. Admittedly this was the first time I had ever heard of Charles Bridge. Since then I have seen numerous gorgeous shots: a famous capture has mist swirling around, or a haunting sunrise shot. In these dreamy, inviting images there is hardly a soul around. In real life, in summer – this was far from the case.

Connecting Old Town and the Lesser Quarter, the pedestrian crossing known as Charles Bridge is gorgeously ancient. Lined with traders peddling souvenirs, the 500m of historic bridge is a throng of weaving people. An alley of 30 guardian angels look down on you as you stroll across the Vltava River, these mostly baroque statues are all replicas with the priceless originals being housed in the National Museum.

Climbing up to the largest ancient castle in the world, Prague Castle sits proudly overlooking the Lesser Quarter and beyond, I discovered a gem of a tourist trap hidden down a short passage. Tucked away, a cave-like shop stocked with beautiful handmade delicate wooden wares. Christmas shopping for the family was easily done, including collecting some gorgeous wooden postcards.

Something that fascinates me in Europe is how each country cleverly introduces modern architecture around century old structures. In Prague, The Dancing House is a statement of how the city is embracing and entwining old and new.  This quirky, shiny building rose out of a vacant riverfront plot a couple of decades ago, it rejoices in its surroundings.

A ritual in each new location is to spend quiet time in religious spaces. Before I flew north, Gloria Hoff from the KZNSA Gallery urged me to visit the Jewish Quarter, saying how vibrant, and historic the area was. I strolled around admiring the compact area, housing six synagogues and a 15^th century cemetery. Admittedly, everything was closed at the time I visited and peering through the iron gates of the cemetery, it looked sadly run down! Headstones crumbling or knocked over and long over grown grass added to the sorry state.

Hanging out in the square around Town Hall, I admired the Astronomical Clock. A mate of mine, Vishal Ramphal posted an image of the third oldest medieval clock in all its glory. When I was there majority of it was under wraps getting a well-deserved make over. Gratefully, the intricate clock face was on show, while the rest of the building was gently being restored.

I stopped in at the exquisite St Nicholas Church trailing along with fellow passionate French supporter Melanie Gallais. The frescoes donning the high domed ceilings were of Michelangelo quality, the halo of subtle lights equal to those from the Blue Mosque and I loved the door knocker type handles on the massive, bold red doors. I sampled a chimney cake or a Trdelníks, a Czech cinnamon-flavoured pastry, while watching excited tourists jump into buggies with bored looking horses ready to take them on a sightseeing loop. The home-made ice cream was dreamy, the sugar-coated doughnut cone, not so much!

A poignant moment in the heatwave that Prague was experiencing, a chef from a popular pavement café stood with his hosepipe with a refreshing mist being sprayed on passing tourists.

The whole city is incredible, Prague has a lot to offer. There is a lot to do off the tourist track. Little hidden treasures like the Hanging Man – remember to look up, or the modern-day, public art splattered around the city, listening to funky buskers at the foot of Charles Bridge. Or dining out in one of the best spots around, sitting on a public bench overlooking the Vltava, enjoying Turkish take out, watching yoga while concert goers dressed up in ballgowns head into the Rudolfinum Concert Hall as the sun sets on yet another magnificent day in the Czech Republic.

PS - Wear comfortable shoes – nobody told me this and I learnt it the hard way!

Beautiful Bourges

The second part to this whirlwind trip was in the heart of the Berry Province, a city called Bourges. The city dates back to about 50BC, with the main architectural attraction, the gothic cathedral of Saint Etienne, built in the twelfth century. Ranked as a World Heritage Site, it is considered as the earliest example of the high gothic style of the thirteenth century. Simply put, if I were to wed, this certainly would be the venue for the ceremony. It is utterly magnificent, the stained glass windows are heavenly and the intricate carved detail on the exterior façade is mesmerizingly beautiful.  The inside is just as glorious, the light coming through the windows, the massive airy space, you can climb up to the tower and get an angel’s eye view of the city or go down into the crypt.

As is tradition over the last decade, I had the privilege of catching one of the final pool games of the Euroleague basketball season for Tango Bourges in their recently unveiled shiny new stadium lovingly called The Prado. Led by the ‘tricolour’s’ captain, Celine Dumerc who was the game hero that evening firing 15 points, the home team playing to a capacity crowd were victorious against Polish visitors, Wisla Karkow with a 63-45 win.

A highlight for me in Bourges was reconnecting with a fabulously keen couple at the pristine stadium. My first time ever watching a live basketball game, an elderly man was the usher at the old Bourges Basketball Arena and quickly surmised that I didn’t speak a word of French and in a grand-fatherly way guided me to my seat. Our next meeting was in Montpellier, the French League game we were both attending was held on France’s Independence Day and locals were celebrating at the game with pancakes and red wine. This dear old man sought me out and proudly presented me with an offering of both.

In my basketball travels, I have met France’s number one supporters in Istanbul, Sopron, Ankara, Paris, and just last year in Timisoara, Romania. I read an article stating that this retired couple spend most of their winters travelling in their campervan to all of the games in Europe where Tango Bourges or France are playing.

After the game, standing at the top of their raked section, I waited for them to clamber up from their courtside seats. Halfway up, he glanced up, stopped and alerted his wife and promptly announced to me, and majority of the nearby crowd – Afrique du Sud waving cheerfully. We greeted each other like long lost friends in French, but conversation beyond a jovial greeting was limited as their English is non-existent, as is my French.  But the mutual love of the game for the identical teams has created a strong connection between the three of us and each time I am at a game, I look forward to meeting them.

No visit would be complete without a wander through the Old Town; here you can amble along cobbled-stoned lanes lined with half-timbered medieval houses that date back to the Middle Ages. It is believed that there are still 440 of these medieval masterpieces still standing to this day. Another must do is indulging in a draft on tap at the ancient Jacques Couer Pub a couple of blocks from the cathedral and palace. Situated in an old half-timber house, the inside of the pub takes you on a complete time warp to centuries before.  Stop in for something decadent at CakT, a petit slice of heaven where you can refuel on a delicious cup of tea and a mouth-watering array of desserts.

Of course visits to the Jacques Couer Palace, the Jardins near the Cathedral and the train station, or if you are in these parts in May, there is a hearty music festival that is well worth a stop. Bourges is magical, but I wouldn’t recommend a stay longer than two days.

Departing the centre of France, I made my way north west to the coastal area of Saint Michel! 

Paris - in the wake of Je Suis Paris

Surrounded by the backdrop of a typical European winter, I escaped the sweltering heat here in Durban to ‘chill out’ in France for a bit.

It was fascinating being in Europe, specifically France shortly after our rand collapse and of course, the terror attacks in Paris. My extravagant itinerary of exploring the northern parts of France and tumbling into Belgium was halved due to our dire exchange rate. Instead, I reacquainted myself with Paris and Bourges and then tumbleweeded my way, via the Chateaux Chambord, up to the breath-taking parts of Le Mont Saint Michel and then down to Nantes before returning back to the capital.

My first quest of this adventure: I have attempted to be one of the lucky ones to purchase tickets for the annual, massive French extravaganza, entitled Les Enfoirés. Tickets for this concert sell out faster than a Mumford and Sons concert in Durban and in the last seven years my attempts have been consistent, that of 100% unsuccessful! Les Enfoirés usually takes place over six nights, with majority of the indoor venues able to seat up to 5,000 fans – you do the maths. The whole of France vie for these tickets, and travel from all corners to be a part of it to catch the likes of Zaz, Zazie or Calogero.

This musical type of vaudeville travels around the country, each year a different city plays host and this year, the venue was the massive, forever-transforming arena in Bercy, Paris. The AccorHotels Arena that looks like it is this grassy hill in the midst of a concrete jungle; below ground is a hub of space that shapeshifts for all different occasions. A couple of years ago I was able catch Bourges Basketball compete in the Coupe de France finals at this setting, then a huge basketball stadium, now morphed into a huge concert hall holding thousands of fortunate fans.

As in previous years, my hunt for a ticket remained fruitless so for my first evening I resorted to plan B, picking up a kebab from my favourite take-away located outside of Gare-Du Nord, and after an uncomplicated metro ride I feasted at my picnic spot, sitting dwarfed by the magnificent gothic cathedral, the Notre Dame.

In the wake of Je Suis Charlie and Je Suis Paris, all of the ‘tourist attractions’ have evidently beefed up their presence of law enforcement. A mixture of excitable tourists attempting to capture the moment, pausing in an array of poses was combined with heavily-armed, slow-wandering, observant soldiers weaving through the statuette visitors. On the perimeters, both police and transit police would keep a distant, watchful, suspecting eye on the crowds.

This trip, I opted to minimise my use of public transport and walk wherever possible. Having no actual commitments or plans, besides the outline of accommodation, a FIBA Euroleague basketball ticket and two SNCF inter-city train tickets, I was free to do as I pleased. Armed with only a metro map and a vague idea of where the main attractions were in Paris, I strolled everywhere.  From the Eifel Tower to the Grand Palace, the Louvre to the Opera House, a mosey along the Seine River and down Avenue des Champs-Elysees heading towards the Arc de Triomphe or huffing and puffing up the hill to the Sacré-Cœur Cathedral with a gorgeous panoramic view of Paris. Mooching along small side streets I discovered some fabulous street art, some wonderful galleries, some quirky book stores and even a few decent street side cafes.

If you were to ask me what my soundtrack to Paris would be, I would sadly confide police sirens. Convoys of police vehicles charged through the city streets constantly, flashing blue lights and blaring sirens breaking up the usual bustling city sounds.  A sad reality of the current state of France. 

Ankara - the anchor of Turkey

Surfing the Turkish Tourism website, they proudly inform you that Turkey is home of The Blue Mosque, home of the colour Turquoise, home of the historic site Cappadocia, home of Troy, home of the Silk Road, home of the Golden Horn and home of ancient Gods. But there is no flash pitch about the capital, Ankara!

Ankara is clean, hilly and expansive. The word Ankara means anchor, a rather fitting name if ever there was for a capital.

I was based in Ankara for six days for the FIBA Women’s Basketball World Championship; I was there to support the French team. The venue in the capital was the Architectural award winning Ankara Arena which hosts a variety of events; the first event that was held in it after it was built in 2010 was the FIBA World Championship, so no stranger to major basketball events. 16 countries were there to compete for the cup with the games being played both in Istanbul and Ankara. Ankara was host to Brazil, Canada, Czech Republic, France, Japan, Mozambique, Spain, and host team Turkey.

I have been to and participated in big sporting events in South Africa including being at the World Cup Soccer at the iconic Moses Mabhida, but all of those matches pale into significance witnessing my first international basketball game, the entire experience was tingling. The last game on the opening day was a cracker between Olympic Silver Medallists’ France and the home team. Fans in their droves swarmed the stadium.

It took a while to collect my tickets and find the correct entrance. By the time I had presented my ticket to the FIBA usher, I had walked through a metal detector, had my bag searched by police then frisked by another police officer, before the final police check confirming the legitimacy of my ticket. Finally offering it to an usher who warmly welcomed me.

Having purchased my tickets online months prior, I by some stroke of luck had landed myself in the VIP area. The online booking system had an early bird ticket sale, so I paid for one ticket and got the remainder of the tournament basically for free. It also so happened that all the travelling French fans were seated in the VIP area.

The atmosphere in the venue was electric. Turkish flags floated aloft as the bearer’s sang a catchy tune that obviously was the anthem for the Turkish team. An enclosed space with well over 20,000 people all chanting, singing and cheering was passionate. Needless to say France went down but only by two points.

The remainder of the tournament, the Les Bleus sadly lacked the spark they had in London finishing second in their group, spiralling out in the quarters in Istanbul with a defeat against ace team USA. Then they lost to Canada in the class 5 – 8 games, after beating them in the group games. In the final game of France’s tournament they did manage to get some respect back with a win over Serbia and finishing in seventh.

The Les Bleus fans welcomed me into their small clan of 20 or so. Each game I had my face painted as an honorary frog. I was so proud of neighbours Mozambique, how they held their own on the court.

As far as sightseeing goes, Ankara is a massive, vibrant, cultural city but only really offers a handful of tourist attractions. Stumbling upon the Tourist Information Centre at the main train station across the way from the arena, the fabulously helpful tourism officer presented an impressive colour brochure, in English, of all the sights and stops in Ankara. All could be done on a walking tour over two days.

I found the public transport system difficult to figure out and eventually gave up. From the hotel where I was staying, the arena was a 20minute or 30TYL ride away and the yellow cabs were an attraction in itself. I am sure that the drivers were awarded for the most number of fares they could take on a day, not how scenic a route they took you on. Every ride felt like a race between A and B and on arrival your hasty exit was appreciated. It was a cheap and fast way to get around.

My first day out exploring, I got deposited at my landmark of the arena and wandered along the wide main road towards the Opera House, the Ethnography Museum and the State Art and Sculpture Museum. The Opera House was all closed up and seemed to be out of season. Across the road was a glee-filled Fun Fair snuggled up right against the main road threatening to toss out unsuspecting riders from the brightly coloured rides. Further up the road I came across the grand State Art and Sculpture Museum with the Ethnography Museum alongside. In the garden proudly sat a number of statues of famous Turk artists and sculptors as well as what looked like fragments of Roman ruins that were being slowly restored, were littered around the garden and had become a playground for the local feral cats.

With time on my side I opted to go off the beaten track, I turned off the main road and made my way deep into Ulus, the historic centre containing a number of museums, early republican buildings and the ancient Ankara Castle. Ulus is millennia old and I enjoyed getting lost taking small cobbled lanes, discovering roads and roads of shops spilling out onto the road. The gradients of the roads were quite a hike but the locals had no difficulty trekking up, usually lugging a hefty load.

On the only blue skied day I had, I ventured to the Antikabir. Translated to English it means a memorial tomb and is the mausoleum of Mustafa Kemal Ataturk, the leader of the Turkish War of Independence and the founder and first President of the Republic of Turkey. The site where the Antikabir was built is the most central in Ankara and can be seen from almost all areas in the city.

The ceremonial courtyard was alive with countless of wiggly worms with hundreds of pre-schoolers out on a day-excursion learning about the history of their country. With each group they had an assigned guide donning a dark tailored suit hugging their ripped frames, they more resembled bodyguards but each and every one of those big burly blokes appeared to be gentle giants. As I was about to depart, I got to see the pomp and ceremony of the Changing of the Guards.

A short yellow cab drive away, I visited the Kocatepe Mosque. It gets a mention in all research you do when you Google Ankara. I spent some quiet time walking around the exterior as the mosque was closed to visitors. It took close on 20 years to build and is the largest mosque in the capital. From there I jumped in another zippy cab and landed up at the Ankara Castle.

The outer citadel follows the ledges of the hill but inside the castle walls you find the real old Ankara with a number of locals quietly getting on with daily chores. Beyond the tourist track, the houses were all old, crumbling, unloved and dilapidated.  The views from up on top of the castle walls are exquisite overlooking all of Ankara. I parted with 12TYL for a freshly squeezed Pomegranate juice, the most expensive food and drink I had spent but the name of the café was the only reason I stopped. It was one word, And.

Would I recommend a visit, about as enthusiastically as I would encourage someone spending their hard earned holiday going to Johannesburg, but for a two day visit as you head to Cappadocia – perfect! 

Au revoir; Adieu; A Bientot; Salut; Farewell; Goodbye France!

And we are off...

Sitting on the train to London. Paris is now but a memory, as is France.

I am always amazed how time flies and what it means in different scenarios! Arriving on the sixth, five days in France seemed glorious, and now the time has vanished. And in another two hours I will be in a country where I understand most things, including menus.

My last evening was an adventure, I watched Bourges battle against Lyon. Lyon clad in netball style dresses were far from ladylike. The game was intense, physical with Bourges players being spat out and rolled across the court. Valerie Garnier did superbly, every time one of her players started to get a bit agitated, she substituted them. Celine Dumerc got ruffled a few times but mostly had a bemused smile on her face. Her training buddy Stella got irritated when her opponent just kept pushing her until she finally lashed out but got blown by the ref. Garnier immediately changed her. When Bourges did manage to get a movement in, it looked splendid. The only player that looked completely unphased by Lyon's brash play was the youngster, Romanie who was like a jumping jack livewire bouncing around like a pup.

The final score saw the home side victorious but it was a battle.

I strolled back to the hotel and sat in the hotel bar for a bit. I had a 1664 beer on tap and people watched. When I next glanced at my watch, it was pumpkin hour. I disappeared to my quarter, jumped into bed and was quickly asleep.

The next morning I showered and then packed. I had a long trek to the train station-crossing on road and a parking lot, so didn't want to be late. Snow had tumbled down again and the temperature was on a mere 3 degrees.

After a crowded train trip, I landed in Paris. I purchased a 24 hour metro ticket and headed to the familiar district of Gare Du Nord. I made it to Altona by memory and dumped my bags. I then headed out into the city.

First stop, a French kebab at my local. I devoured the huge meal, charged and ready to go. I was now ready to wander.

Snow, snow and more snow! The vast city of Paris was under a dreamy snowy blizzard, with the white particles continually gently falling. I tackled the exploration with illa inspired music (and every Morris Column-advertising boards in Paris advertising the movie) I had Les Miserables lined up on my I-Pod. I jumped out of the metro nearest the Eiffel Tower. The familiar attraction was lost at the top with the low clouds. I crossed the river Seine, the river was swollen and was lapping across the lower walkways. Brave locals strolled along the pavements, skirting the high lying water and making alternative plans where the walkways were flooded and impassable. I walked from the Eiffel Tower towards the Arc de Triomphe, at the top viewing section, the best view of the city I was stopped by a chap who made me a wool bracelet, he claimed it was warm colours and thinking back it is of course the colours of Valentine's. As he was tying it around my wrist, he stated that at the point of tying it, I should be making a wish.

I discovered the Arc, it was exactly where I had last seen it! I strolled around, the snow was relentless so I made my way to Virgin Records where I mainly stopped to dry off a bit. I met a lovely lady who served me in the cafe, bubbly character with piercing eyes.

After warming up and drying off, I left the cafe and wandered around the cd collection, finding a few Les Enfoires but they weren't on sale so I continued on with my sight seeing.

One thing that is totally bold is the fashion in France, it seems that if you were it with spunk, you pull it off. I passed a man wearing a pink hat with childlike animal figures popping up from the hat, leather boots and sparkly knee pads. He looked just darling.

Eventually after hours of strolling around with my beanie soaked through, I headed back to Gare Du Nord and the warmth of the hotel. I stopped at the shop next door to the hotel and got a beer, a lemon cooldrink, and a chocolate. Enough to top up after the huge French kebab.

In my room, I defrosted under the covers, made sure everything was charged and watched some French telly. This morning I checked out of the hotel early, left my bags at the reception and went sightseeing, on the hop on hop off bus. When I left the hotel, it was still snowing mixed with bog standard rain.

For five hours, I hopped off and on, enjoying the great city sights. Most of which I have seen and a few that I hadn't. The weather improved, so much so that I even wore my sunnies. A complete contrast to the landscape that I pass now.

Sitting on the Eurostar, I guess I am in no mans land. I checked out of France and a few paces later I was at a British passport control.

Train rides are all about the changing landscapes, Bourges was green, wet and flat. Around Paris, it is crowded filled with street art and buildings on top of each other, now on the Eurostar, the hilly surrounds are covered in snow with small villages rising out of the stark whiteness with a church spire dominating the skyline, mixed with wirey naked trees.

I think I have another hour left of the train trip. I have yet to go under the English Channel, but for now, I will enjoy the last of France listening to Mozart L'Opera Rock.

Pooh is almost in his homeland! We shall be surrounded by Brits. I am having High Tea with Trayci Tompkins which I am most looking forward to!

Somewhere.... It snowed!

It feels odd to be stating this as a true Durbanite, but it feels warmer today with the temperature sitting comfortably on 4degrees.

Overnight the temperature plummeted to -1. This morning at breakfast there was evidence of overnight snow with cars driving past with a dusting of fresh white snow but the pavements in my surrounds only had evidence of rain.

At each sighting of Saint Etienne, the cathedral  truly is magnificent! Cruising around Bourges, it feels good not to be harassed by traders asking where you are from but walk around in solitary silence, giving you time to admire.

The familiar streets holds the same charm as before. Rugged in their cobbledness embraced by beautiful antique buildings. The weather is warmer than my previous visit, all though it seems that there has been a lot of rain in recent weeks with surrounding fields all very water logged, paths are all slodgy so you side step into the street to avoid numerous puddles, at these moments you are never sure which side of the road you are on, where the traffic is coming from so you are stepping out into the road while nervously glancing in all directions looking for a car.

Wednesday night I had the honour of watching Bourges Basketball's final game in the Euroleague, they played bottom of the log Brno. It felt like it was a training game with Bourges trying a few new things, mostly pulling them off. All the players had winning smiles on their faces as the visiting team strained to keep in the picture. The coach, Valerie Garnier, ran several changes with almost everyone getting a good run. The newcomer to the team, Johannah Leedham from England, in my opinion was the player of the match. She was silently determined and got a number of rebounds and intercepts. One play when she was in support with Dumerc haring down the court, Dumerc drew the defender to her and tossed the ball flawlessly behind her back into the waiting hands of Leedham who effortlessly added 2 more points for Bourges. Dumerc however was named MVP, her play was impressive. Her legendary charge into the circle, holding up and floating the ball in was wonderful to see. The crowd went wild every time she got the ball, and as she had done in the Olympics, she secured the ball with only seconds remaining and crushed Brno even more as she played her trademark shot. At this point, the entire stadium was on their feet singing and cheering!

I sat inside the cathedral for ages reading Saul Williams poem, Said the Shotgun to the Head. I watched as tour parties moved through the cathedral stopping at the same spots pointing at a column or stained glass window. The tour guide rattling off something of interest and flashes disturbing the peace as the tourists all captured their memories.

I have spent the previous three days trying to sort out the car that I hired. It seems their machine is not communicating with American Express. I have spoken to Amex several times and they say that there is no evidence of Europcar trying to reserve money off my card so today in despair, I cancelled the reservation and walked to the train station researching various options of where to go as I fear I have seen almost all there is to see in Bourges. All the places I would like to get to, the timing isn't right with arrival times only giving me a brief window of opportunity to sight see.

 I currently sit in an Irish pub, enjoying a Guinness with my lunch. Pondering what to do this afternoon. I sit under a glass conservatory watching the ominous weather move across the sky disguising the blue suggesting I find a few indoor activities to keep me out of mischief for the remainder of the day.

My amusement for now is a rowdy group of men who are giving the waitresses a hard time and she is handling them expertly.

For now, bon appetite and an Irish Guinness Cheers.

Pooh says hic.