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!

Captivating Nantes

Situated along the picturesque west coast, on the mighty river Loire, Nantes is a captivating, vibrant city! Having visited the metropolis twice now, I love the energy of it.

Nantes appears to have got the balance of restoring the old, with the new blending in majestically, and quite strikingly. The biggest city of the Brittany region has attempted to build an identity as a creative capital of dream and fantasy. This is evident in the architecture and quirky artwork, including Banksy-style street art splattered around the region.

I think the ‘New York City viewing laws’ apply when walking around, remember to look up. One of my favourite finds was around the theme-park area, a building that at eye level was a dull concrete block jazzed up with a bit of colourful art, looking up there was an actual bus with wheels ‘parking off’ a few levels up, followed by a funky, intricate, metal casing reaching to the sky.

An absolute must is a ride on the Nantes elephant! Yes, an elephant! In France! One of the main attractions is the creation of the Les Machines de L’ile, this 40ft wooden structure goes walkabout for half an hour around the Jardin des Voyages precinct, embarking from its metal cathedral with 50 passengers on board. Unsuspecting tourists get doused with squirts from its trunk, with gleeful patrons cheering from above. They have a variety of other mechanised treasures that young and old can play on, but for me, a true African – the elephant stole my heart.

Being an unashamed nautical junky, mixed in with a love for history, and architecture I delight in stumbling upon historical ships, tall ships specifically! Not far from the funfair, theme-park side of the world, moored on the Loire is the magnificent historic three mast tall ship, the Belem. An old beauty that now is a training boat but for decades was a true work horse.

Nantes is a photographer’s dream, with objects around every corner begging to be captured. The old architecture of the cathedral, or the Castle of the Dukes of Brittany or the Graslin District, Square and Opera, to a variety of modern statues or artwork like the massive spikey Resolution des Forces or the rings set along the promenade, or even just boats moored on the river, there is something beautiful to snap.

According to the Nantes tourism website, there are 28 artworks dotted around 22 sites along the 120km Loire estuary between Nantes and Saint-Nazaire.

Nantes is not a car friendly city, with parking establishments being costly and street parking being almost impossible to find. But everything and more is just an amble, a cycle or a tramride away. Public transport is efficient and affordable. On both visits, I had a hire car, having driven from Bourges via Saint Michel to Nantes on my first visit or being mobile to head out to the suburb of Reze for the recent Olympic Qualifications for the Les Blues Basketball Women successful campaign to get to Rio.

Having access to a vehicle, I indulged and opted to take a few day trips from Nantes. The most memorable was out to Saint-Nazaire and the beaches of Saint Brevin Les Pins, I happened upon the incredible, perhaps creepy, artwork of the Serpent D’Ocean. Unveiled in 2012, the aluminium skeleton that is 120m long brings Chinese mythology to a French shore.  The sea serpent looks like it has just beached itself, and with the different tides and sea-state, the mood around the serpent constantly changes. Quite intriguing!

So, if you planning a trip to the famed wine region of Bordeaux, I would strongly recommend you make a detour to Nantes and surrounds for a couple of days, you won’t regret it!

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! 

Battle of Trafalgar Pursuit Race

Royal Natal Yacht Club

Battle of Trafalgar

Offshore of Durban: Sunday 16 November

The second attempt to chase the French Flag will take place offshore of Durban on Sunday 16 November after inclement weather forced the postponement of the Battle of Trafalgar Pursuit Race hosted by the Royal Natal Yacht Club.

The Battle of Trafalgar was raced in big seas last year with Morningside’s Gregg Hurter sailing Bellatrix taking honours. Hurter and his crew have entered and are hoping to defend their title as they hunt down the French Flag.

The Trafalgar race is a pursuit race; the slowest boat will head through the start line first and usually flies a French Flag at the back. The rest of the fleet heads off through the start line at intervals at a specific time depending on their handicap and the fastest boat heads off last. They then chase after the slowest boat, in the hopes of capturing the flag and the title.

“If the conditions play along, then the finish is really exciting with all the boats converging on the line on-mass.” the Rear Commodore of the Royal Natal Yacht Club, Rob Samways explained. “The start is quite technical with the boats heading off in batches at a specific time. It is like racing an everyday car versus a Formula One beast, you of course are going to give the slower car a head start.”

10 yachts headed off on Sunday 19 October to compete in the age old annual event, including defending champion, Hurter. As the small fleet exited the harbour, they were greeted by huge running swells with a few rogue waves breaking off in the distance.

Race Officer for the day, Rob Samways tried valiantly to get the race underway dropping a start line off of Addington Beach but conditions was too hazardous for the yachts. Light winds would not have been able to power the yachts over the rising swell with the tail end of the set having white horses on them.

“We watched as a heavily laden ship departed Durban and saw how the conditions were knocking it about. It was tilting at about 40degrees as it got hammered by the waves.” Samways stated when he was safely back on land.

“About 70 guys are really looking forward to the race, we have a competitive fleet entered, including newcomers to Durban sailing, Ray of Light skippered by Heidi Kavanagh from Port Shepstone, formerly from Cape Town.” The Rear Commodore concluded.

The hunt for the blue, white and red flag is on as the Durban sailors head offshore to compete in the Battle of Trafalgar on Sunday 16 November.

For more info visit www.rnyc.org.za or contact Kearin on 031 301 5425.

Chatting to Pro Golfer, Welsh lady Sahra Hassan

Cell C SA Women’s Open

Sahra Hassan

The upbeat Welsh golfer, Sahra Hassan from Newport was back in the country to tee-off for the Cell C SA Women’s Open.

“This is my third time taking part in the SA Women’s Open,” the cheerful individual stated. “I love it but San Lameer is going to be testing! This is my first time I am playing here and it looks like a good challenge.”

“I managed to hit a few balls at the range but got drenched in the downpour; my clubs and bag are off drying at the mo. I did a bit of putting earlier as well so I am feeling good ahead of the tournament tomorrow (Thursday).”

During the build-up to the London Olympics, Hassan was awarded the 2012 United Kingdom Sportswoman of the Year by the Muslim Women’s Sports Foundation at Wembley Stadium, “It was perhaps the proudest moment of my career. I didn’t even know that I had been nominated to be honest.”

“I was up against a pro soccer player and a basketball player. I really hadn’t expected to be recognised with the award. I hadn’t even prepared a speech!” she says with a grin.

The 26year old golfer will be playing with in-form South African Nicole Garcia and French player Ariane Provot. “I was in the South of France in Biarittz two weeks ago playing in the Lacoste Ladies Open de France. I almost got a hole-in-one! It was so close, it teasingly hit the pin and frustratingly bounced out!” an animated Hassan claims.

Continuing, the relaxed player states, “I don’t have any real favourite moments that stand out for me, I have a terrible memory but had I landed that hole-in-one in France, that moment would have stood out for me!”

“I love the game because it is relaxing and yet so frustrating, it’s difficult to describe. I was a fairly decent tennis player back in the day. I got to warm-up with Serena and Venus Williams; that was really cool! When I was 13years old my tennis coach recommended I take a month off which I did. My dad was a keen golfer, so I started playing with him and have never looked back. I still play a bit of tennis with my mates when I get the time.”

Chatting about any difficulties she has had to overcome, she gently responds, “The first time I was ever challenged, I was too young to really understand what was going on. I was playing girls almost double my age. When I was about ten, I was taking on 18year olds - and I was beating them. In one instance, my opponent did take the defeat to well and resorted to a few racial remarks.”

“I didn’t retaliate, didn’t know how but those words had an impact on me!”

Coming from a very supportive close family, the optimistic sports star encourages, “What advice would I give if I were standing up in front of group of people I would tell them....RUN!” she breaks into a beaming smile and continues,  “No, just kidding. The advice is simple. Take a deep breath and try and relax. And smile!”

“I think if you really wanted to overcome adversity, the first step would be making up your mind to make a change. Like in golf, you have to be mentally strong to overcome life’s challenges. I have the support of my extended family and close friends and I am extremely fortunate to have this. Together with their support and hard work, I am able to live out my dream. How lucky am I?”

Asked what is next for her, after the Cell C SA Women’s Open, she concludes, “I head home for three weeks to rejuvenate before three more big events to end off the year. I am off to play in China in mid-November, then head to New Delhi in India at the beginning of December with my last stop for the year in Dubai.

For more info visit www.sawomensopen.co.za or www.ladieseuropeantour.com

To follow Sahra Hassan, find her on twitter: @sahra_hassan13

All pix by Justin Klusener

Chatting to her after the event, Sahra said a moment that stood out for her was the opening function - a traditional braai or BBQ. "The braai was great fun, loved the traditional food!"
In regards to her score of +4 (72, 76 & 72) she said, "I am happy with where I finished, hit the ball great all week, just couldn't buy a putt! Very frustrating as I could of finished well up there if I'd holed a few, but just didn't happen for me."
And speaking about San Lameer, the wonderful welsh lady said, "The course was great, loved it, considering the bad weather we had it was still in great condition. I just found the greens tricky!"

Sailing from Mauritius to Durban - Part Two Reunion

It was love at first sight, Reunion is an island that was completely surprising, diverse and utterly breath-taking.

36 hours after a gorgeous sail from Mauritius we set foot on Saint-Pierre. The first passage sailing on Topaz was gratefully uneventful, only passing a handful of large ships, light winds and calm seas carried us closer to land with only a couple of hours motor-sailing. We arrived just off Saint-Pierre at 02:00am; the entrance to the small harbour was tricky as we heard the pounding surf smashing onto the rocks.

For five hours we heaved-to a stone throw away from the lush green voluptuous island. As the morning rays brought light all around us, we dropped our sails and prepared for the challenge of surfing the massive swells. Viatrix, a sturdy ketch that we had been sailing in convoy with allowed us to tackle the entrance first, holding back and observing with interest.

Our 51ft Australian built Adams monohull motored forwards, aiming her bow for the first set of leads, nautical markers set on land that assisted yachts entering harbours. Our yacht surged over large surf as Rob Ferenczi, my skipper, guided his vessel between two large treacherous looking rocky outcrops. After the adrenaline pumping entry, we successfully avoided shipwrecking Topaz and nestled in the small craft harbour that was overlooked by colossal volcanic mountains.

Customs officials came quickly and cleared us in. We were officially in ‘France’ and free to roam.

The village of Saint-Pierre is set in the south-west of Reunion and being the third largest populated on the island, bustled with vibrancy. Pristine coral beaches lined the delightful French village, the beach adjacent to the harbour was protected by a man-made reef with tourists and locals alike making full use of the ocean.

The main street running along the coastline was filled with an array of cafes that spilled out onto the pavement and all offering endless views and wi-fi, much to our relief. Our Canadian friends discovered a patisserie a block away from the entrance to the harbour and they frequented the bakery each morning, wandering back to the boats with an armful of deliciously baked French loaves. I admittedly strolled past acquiring a croissant each morning as I headed out to explore the island.

It was an interesting contrast, visiting a near neighbour but with the constant feeling of being in first world Europe.  English was hardly spoken so we again resorted to a lot of animated hand-signals. Robi and I refreshed our petit French vocab, reminding ourselves of the essentials- how to count to ten, ordering a coffee or beer.

On the weekend, we had the honour of being part of the festivities, the Dipavali or Festival of Lights. The entire strip was transformed for the occasion. Two stages had been set up during the week and the police had left notes on every lamp pole informing us that the road would be closed. On Friday on both stages it was scheduled to have music and dancing and on Saturday there was to be a parade and then fireworks to close off Dipavali.

Dancers of all shapes and sizes took to the stage, entertaining the masses. Little people clad in traditional attire joined more experienced dancers. The faces of the tiny tots were too precious as the pure concentration of the steps and hand movements were etched all over their features. Sari after sari, beautiful bright colours, invaded our vision as more dance troops took to the stages to perform. The evening ended early with the promise of more delightful entertainment to follow the next day.

As the sun began to set on Saturday, the road was again closed and people filtered out and crowded the streets. In my wanderings that day, nervous people had urged tourists not to wander around the harbour as luminous workers went about setting up the massive firework display. Further along I had come across a number of carriages that were being dressed for the occasion. That evening, the decorated carriages began the precession, followed by musicians, dancers and dignitaries. Wheel barrows laden with fire broke up each dressed wagon, with another dance group going to great lengths to create their identity at the parade. Tinsel, statues, gorgeous models adorned the slow moving coach. After a few hours of watching the parade, carriages pulled by bulls rounded up the formalities and the crowd dispersed towards the beach.

As I moved to the beach, I bumped into Rob and we wandered to the grassy banks to get a good view of the fireworks. Punctually, the first explosion ignited the sky. For what seemed like an eternity, the sky was highlighted with exploding fairy lights, red, green, brilliant white lit up the sky accompanied by thunderous bombs. The finale was fantastic, the smell of gunpowder wafted around for a while and the crowd surrounding us visibly was buzzing from the display.

With the help of fellow crew member, Jen’s marvellous French vocab, we managed to navigate hiring a car on Monday for two of the days which gave us the opportunity to really explore the island. The Topaz trio ventured out to Cilaos on our first outing. Cilaos, to the north west of Saint-Pierre was up in the mountains, at the foot of the Piton des Neiges to be exact. The Isle da le Reunion had two main roads, the one that etched the coastline and the second bisecting the island with smaller roads branching off each.

Signage was easy to understand and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to steer towards the high peaks that dominated the horizon. Tour De France slopes greeted us as we got out of Saint-Pierre, exquisite green hills surrounded us with the quaintest of wooden houses interrupting the greenness. Our tiny little Nissan’s tyres glued themselves around the thousands of corners; the only rule seemed that if you hoot first on arriving to a hairpin bend, you get to go first. We edged our way up the winding road, constantly racing towards the misty clouds that hovered just above us, avoiding the locals as they expertly ‘Schumachered’ their way along the road.

Cilaos instantly transported me to the Camino. Bodies of all shapes and sizes walked around the small village, armed with walking sticks and backpacks. Paths disappeared off the road transporting their walkers onto yet another trail taking them deeper into the pulsating forests. The tiny colourful village swarmed with people, meandering around I had to stop myself from uttering Buen Camino.

Pausing for a coffee at the Le Tsilaosa, a hotel located in the heart of Cilaos, we sat on the veranda of this beautiful building mesmerised by the rich wooden exterior that was complimented with overflowing window boxes. After a short stroll, lunch was enjoyed taking in the immense hills encompassing us.

As the temperature started to drop and time marched on, we jumped in the car continuing through the forests, stopping briefly at a picnic site. The mist tumbled down the hills, obscuring the tops of the trees and hiding the mountains and the air was crisp but inviting.

Our final adventure that day was driving on the coastal freeway. We got a feel for the other side of the island but in the darkness didn’t see as much as we had hoped. Saint-Denis, the main town was a maze of roads with office blocks and brightly lit shop fronts giving them identity. The harbour in Saint-Denis was huge compared to our small craft harbour, with tall cranes evident from the road.

The next day we set off early, our intention was to bravely explore the volcanoes of Reunion. According to our basic research the island experienced an eruption every four years and was due for an explosion quite soon! Armed with this knowledge, we still set off up the windy roads to wander on the edge of a crater.

Our first stop was at a lush ledge that overlooked a forested valley hundreds of meters below. Sheer rock faces camouflaged by super-hero trees clinging to the outcrops. Circumnavigating the valley, we stopped several times; each time the landscape altered slightly from the previous spot, the soil redder, the rocks bigger and the trees more hardy.

Having driven the entire shards of rock, the road dropped off to a fascinating landscape. A mixture of a red and brown desert waited below. As cars and buses made their way through the section that looked very similar to what I imagine Mars to look like, clouds of dust billowed behind the vehicles. Cumulus clouds began to dominate the horizon at the edge that dropped off to another valley. Imaginations running wild, the rising clouds could have been compared to gases rising from a near-bursting volcano.

Venturing down to Mars, we stopped at a layby getting out of the car. The entire ground was covered by bits of volcanic rock. Picking them up, the light aerated rocks of varying colours and textures must have been a geologist’s heaven. A few persistent tufts of grass sprouted their heads through the dire surrounds, the only visible sign of life. A mate of mine, Adrian, suggested that the Curiosity Rover actually landed on this section of earth and roamed around Reunion, not Mars. I would have to say if I were a conspiracist, then I would agree.

After spending time marching around, kicking dirt, tossing bits of volcano and building cairns we moved on to Piton De La Fournaise. It was nearing lunch time and by the amount of cars and buses in the parking lot, it suggested that this was a popular destination. Leaving the car, we headed to the edge. Observing the massive crater below, there were hundreds of ants that were hiking around the volcano. Clambering up the lava dome and peering down into the unknown, bold tourists wandered around following paths that took them across a sleeping beast that could awaken at any time. Like lizards, we found a rock that had soaked up the rays, sheltered from the breeze and energetic tourists, the Topaz trio sat and gazed across this mystical landscape.

From the barren volcanic parts, our trusty small Nissan whizzed us up to Salazie. The small town high up on yet another mountain was encased by brilliant green trees with waterfalls cascading down, breaking up the canvas and adding yet another element of wow to the island. We drove towards Hell-bourg and parked the car. Descending down vertical paths, twenty minutes of scaling down rough rocky pathways, we found ourselves submerged in a crisp river that was just reward for the rock climbing. Tumbling water was the only interruption to the peace and quiet. As the light began to fade, we trekked up to the car and then meandered back to the boat.

The final day with the car, we did the necessaries before our second chapter of the voyage, a stop at Carrefour. The Nissan needed to be back at the car hire before 10am so we flew through the shopping. Packing 40 oranges, 40 apples, kiwi fruit, as much fresh food that we could into trolleys, yoghurt, French cheeses, French bread, you name it; we whisked around the massive store and loaded up the trolleys.

Dashing back to the boat, we offloaded leaving Jen with the responsibility of packing the boat and hurrying to the car hire to return the wheels. As the clock struck 10, we drove into the yard and had the vehicle scrutinised and checked. After the agonising inspection we were free. I left Rob and adventured to new bits of Saint-Pierre, falling more in love with this quaint village. A Nordic church, a Chinese temple, a Hindu temple, a Gothic style church, the people, the coastline, the cuisine, the coffee – what wasn’t too love?

The remaining time I absorbed as much of La Reunion as I could, promising myself one day I would return.

We set sail on a Friday, with ladies on board… and bananas. 

Sailing from Mauritius to Durban - Part One Mauritius

Let me begin by saying that I am not a sailor; I have just had the absolute privilege to odyssey across oceans by form of yacht.

My latest adventure began in the picturesque setting of Mauritius with the final destination of my hometown, Durban. The beauty of travelling by yacht is the opportunity to stop off at some truly magnificent hidden gems on our planet.

I met the vessel Topaz in Grand Baie, a popular tourist destination for obvious reasons, the turquoise glistening ocean lapping on to golden sands, exquisite palm trees framing the beaches and the kind locals habituating in the quaint village surrounding the bay.

Topaz had been anchored in Grand Baie for ten days and I joined the crew for another two nights floating in tropical paradise. During the steamy hot days, I walked around Grand Baie, cruising along the shoreline admiring a variety of boats anchored in the bay; a number of beautiful Hindu deities had the eternal setting of Grand Baie, along with a very Nordic-looking church built right on the water’s edge. In contrast to the pristine area, just beyond a jetty in dire disrepair, the remains of a tall ship jutted out of the water adding some mystery to the bay. Returning back to the boat, I meandered past a variety of architecture, along with some quirky tourist arcades.

The perfect setting was interrupted by the roar of fast flying speed boats zipping dare-devilish through the anchorage, carving wakes for their skiers that they were dragging behind them. The evenings however were blissful, with postcard sunsets rewarding our stay as we sipped on exotic colourful cocktails from the resort bars.

We enjoyed a tranquil slow sail from Grand Baie to Port Louis, the capital of Mauritius. Safely tied up in the small marina, Topaz, a 51ft Australian built Adams monohull, was dwarfed by the tail-end of the lavish Oyster fleet that were circumnavigating the globe. Added to the mix of circumnavigators were three yachts, a German couple on their yacht Wigwam. Sailing in convoy were two ketches that had been cruising for three years, an American couple and their two teenage children sailing on Azimuth and a Canadian couple with their three children on Viatrix.

In the capital, I had one day to explore the bustling town, admiring the waterfront that was a smaller, carbon copy of our V@A Waterfront. The main promenade had the funkiest shade, with an array of multi-coloured umbrellas casting shadows below creating a rainbow awning above the busy walkway. The neat, well-kempt town was a joy to wander around. Discovering the local hangouts set on the outskirts of town, the massive horse track, modern day office blocks standing tall next to ancient buildings housing retailers, urban parks adding some greenery to the concrete terrain and a number of places of worship dotted around.

Our departure time was moved forward as our skipper, Rob Ferenczi had been warned that our next port of call had a tricky entrance and with the tides, we needed to get there before 07:00am. Our departure time was now at sunset with the weather looking very favourable for a gentle sail to Saint Pierre, Reunion.

Enroute back to the marina, a number of people were gazing heavenwards, cameras and cellphones all snapping at something in the sky. Curious, looking up I saw a perfect halo circling the sun, I took this sentiment as a blessing for our upcoming passage.

Our last adventure on land was acquiring a bit of fresh food from the charming fruit, veg and traditional medicine market. The traders all enticed us with their wares but only a handful spoke English, so our trading and bartering was done with good old hand signals.

As the sun began to set on Mauritius, we departed in convoy with Viatrix. Next stop the French island of Reunion.

Is this an express train?

Snug as in a 'warm' Helsinki clocking in at -4degrees. Snow is beautiful! The white landscapes are utterly breathtaking!

It has been about a week since I clocked in with you all. My time in London flew by. I got to spend tons of time with Derek and Ange. I spent most of a day with Nat and Ange (who bunked work). I also even spent the better part of a day with Trayci Tompkins as we cruised around Covent Gardens, the last time I was in Covent Gardens was in 97- I have to admit, it hasn't changed much.

London was fun, a chilled interval between Turkey, France and the main attraction - Finland! When I arrived on the Eurostar, the snow was tumbling down. Rickmansworth was under a few inches of snow and remained this way for the next day and a bit with light sleet keeping the temperature chilly. The last two days warmed up hugely, almost a heat wave at 9degrees with the sun making an appearance.

Time with Derek and Ange was fantastic. I love visiting them. Derek and I get to play with our cameras and he teaches me so much! Ange is great company. Their house is a home, warm and comfortable.

Ange and I went to visit Nat on Thursday. Nat had a bad day on Wednesday, so took a TOIL day, Ange did in a way as well as she is not enjoying work! We had a long leisurely lunch at Nat's gorgeous new flat in Fulham Broadway on the green line. Her directions were spot on, with huge emphasis on the second iron gate, her address is The Gatehouse 20 Dawes Road and next door is Malcolm Court, 20 Dawes Road, so loads of confusion with deliveries etc. Amusing to Nat, not so for her neighbour.

After lunch we strolled through the Burton Cemetery, ancient and rather unattended which just makes it that much more charming. Nat claimed that this spot featured in Sherlock Holmes, the movie with Johnny Depp. Also is home to some famous people.

We then proceeded to hunt for bus #74 but seemed to over shoot the route, forced to catch another bus and ended up going past a Lambogiene car shop which Nat loved (we think she did this deliberately to see the expensive machines) and eventually caught up with the correct bus which took us to Baker Street. We meet Derek here for a drink at the pub right outside the tube station. Nat entertained us no end, her stories resulting in loud laughter - in true Nat style, her tales were just too much. Kids getting locked up in the slammer for pinching a scooter, or her asking a Broadway star if he had good seats in the show she had just seen. Or a young un getting an award at the end of year ceremony and asking if the prize she gets, if she can eat it!

After that we went for dinner at Nandos. The whole evening was truly memorable!

I clocked in with John Adler, he sounded well. I tried to get in touch with Helen Taylor, Catherine Dodd and Leanne but alas, time just ran out!

I left London Gatwick yesterday early evening. The security check was a bit OTT, checking each persons liquid that they had packed in their hand luggage. I declared my deodorant and perfume but forgot about the arnica and bactopan creams and they didn't pick it up.

I arrived close on midnight after a very pleasant flight on Norwegian Airlines. I caught the airport taxi to Hellsten Senate Apartments. It must have been just after midnight when I got there. I dumped my bags and just had to go walk about. The deep snow was just too inviting. I wandered around till close on 1:30 this morning and then retired to my warm comfy bed. I cruised around familiar buildings that had there winter look, a totally different feel.

The alarm was set for 08:00 this morning and in typical holiday fashion, I was up at 07:39.  I was meeting Eva at nine at the train station so left my bags neatly packed and ready for check out and troddled off to see my Finnish friend.

I caught the #4 tram and sat confidentally gazing out the window for the familiar sight of the train station, the one that appears on my screensaver but when we started heading out of town, I grew nervous that I had missed my stop. Asking the driver, he nodded and pointed at an oncoming tram. Pooh and I leaped off the #4 and ran to the station to attempt to catch the #3T for take two.

The #3T spat me out directly outside the train station. I wandered inside being a few minutes late and easily found Eva. We had a light breakfast, I caught up on all her news. She was full of stories. Was good to see her!

She left promptly to catch the #615 to the airport. She said it was winter ski holidays for the south so, as she is single she had no chance to come with on my adventure. All her colleagues who have families are booked off. The holidays work in an interesting fashion, first the south have a week off, the central Finland and then the north.

After Eva departed, I meandered around, trying to remember the different places I had been to and wanted to get familiar shots so I could compare the summer and winter photos!

I then had to head back to Hellsten to check out and store my bags. The elevator was ancient and had a letter explaining that we must be gentle on her. Strongly urging us not to slam the door. This was fun as the coded. key didn't want to let me in to the luggage room. After phoning the reception three times, I eventually hunted down the maid to assist me. She did this somewhat begrudgingly and mumbling about foreigners.

Having successfully securing my bags, I headed out on more or less the same route I had strolled last night, extending my visit to the church where I watched a young couple pose for photos, her in a summer dress and must have been freezing in the sub zero conditions. The photographer expertly telling them where to look and how to smile. I am sure a few of his previous wedding shots must have a similar feel.

On my round-about voyage to breakfast, I passed a building that had a government feel to it, one I have stopped at before. Most of the garden that welcomed guests had a snowmen congregation. A few handfuls all stood keeping a watchful eye on the traffic, including a cute ice version of Winnie the Pooh

After that I stopped at a buffet bar and nibbled on a croissant remembering France. The time was nearing two and I still wanted to go to the Ice meets Art exhibition in the Helsinki Zoo. Eva had sent me details of this. I caught the #16 train that takes you directly to the Zoo and then after discovering a Beared Eagle, a Snow Leopard, a tiger, a pacing Leopard who had grooved the exact footprints in the snow, he marched up and down, turning in the same circle and missioning on with deliberate strides.

in the main zoo area, near the playground and restaurant, the Ice meets Art exhibition was. It was growing dark, so the sculptures were starting to be illuminated by LED lights. Artists from around the world had come to compete. Their carvings were magnificent! Intricate, defined, detailed and just mind blowing what could be done with a block of ice and some imagination.

Eventually, as the night drew closer with the time nearing 6pm, I caught the bus back to Helsinki central. I went for my last stroll around this fantastic city. Trying to jam as many memories that could fit into my travel bank. I then went to grab something from the local shop, and then collecting my bags, I quickly ate my supper in the Hellsten reception area.

My final tram trip on the #4 took me back to the station. Now aware of where to jump off, I got off without any detours. I waited for the train, for some time in the ticket hall and then braved the subzero temps on the #8 platform.

Currently, I sit on what is rumoured to be the express train, in half an hour we have crawled along a few hundred metres and are on our third pause. None of the locals seem worried, so I am just sitting back and relaxing!

At the first official stop, the entire train filled up with everyone carrying bags that obviously contain skis, or else they have very long narrow bags in these parts!

I had planned my Kemi visit around an excursion on the big Ice Breaker, a swim in the north sea and a trip to the snow castle, snow church and of course the snow bar. But I fear that the Ice Breaker is not operating this weekend, so no excursion or swim in the north sea! I am not sure what else there is to do in Kemi, in time I will know!

Pooh alerted me to the fact that Finnish families travel with their animals, we are on the train with a bulldog, a black lab, a spaniel cross setter and a cat.