Jaye Rothman's Blog, page 3

BERLIN’S DARK PAST

The temperature rose to 30 degrees. I found a bench (these are rare in Berlin) and people watched. It’s Sunday and the shops are shut. A barefoot guy hops along the street. Cyclists zip past with no helmets on. Only children wear them here. Girls and guys wander along covered in tatts and piercings. People from nearby apartments come down and sit in the shade reading. Outside space is a rarity in many apartments here. Some people hold bottles of beer, but most carry water as they trudge along the baking Strasse. Cafes and restaurants fill up as Berliner’s enjoy the sun.

I walked a route for one of my characters in The Circle of Sappho. Auguststrasse has been rebuilt with new buildings, except for two or three. One caught by eye. It was rundown and had bullet holes in the mortar. A plastic frame with a text in German had been placed next to the entrance.  Kinderheim Ahawah – I took a photo and googled it. This used to be a Jewish children’s home. Two Jewish painters sold some of their paintings so a new home could be built in Palestine, which at that time was under British rule. The British would only issue certificates for children over 15. Between 1934-39, 100 children made it to Haifa. The remaining children were transported to Auschwitz…….

Further along the street stands the Michael Fuchs gallery, which was the Jewish Girls school. Now renovated, it houses the Kennedy Museum. I think the original mosaic is in the entrance hall. Along the wall by the restaurant are photos of young girls in the classroom and playing in the schoolyard. The school was closed in 1942 by the Nazis, its pupils and teachers deported to camps. How anyone could eat in there…..

The greenery of trees and grass softens this city, but it didn’t work for me today.

BUDDY BEARS AND GAY PRIDE

Firstly, many thanks to you all for sending wonderful supportive emails, texts and messages. Since I left Auckland six months ago, I’ve had an incredible journey.  Everything that’s happened to me, I believe has happened for a reason, and accepting it is the key. 

No, I didn’t return to my German classes. I couldn’t see the board, and I failed to keep up with the fast pace of the class. Has my interest in learning German diminished? Yes, I’m afraid it has waned. I’m continuing with the Duolingo in the evenings, but I’ve noticed myself speaking in English and not attempting German.

So, what have I been up to?  On Monday, I had my eye tests. I was informed they would take two hours and they did to the exact minute. German efficiency for you! The eye specialist gave me the OK, and my operation is scheduled for 3 August.

On Saturday, I went to Stadtfest which is similar to Auckland’s Big Gay Out, and London’s Gay Pride.  As I stepped out to the crowded platform at Nollendorplatz, I realised I should’ve listen to my friend and stayed home. I took a photo of the street sign with the rainbow coloured balloons which is poignant. In the Weimer era, this street was well known for its women only bars. After the Nazi’s seized power, the bars closed and the women disappeared. Where to? Nobody really knows, but probably to labour or concentration camps.

In Berlin, the streets are usually wide, but here they are narrow and cobbled. If I tripped I’d be in trouble. It didn’t help that stalls lined both sides of the road. I had no alternative but to follow the crowd, head deeper into the throng of people and look for an exit. After a long ten minutes, I found a street which took me past a stage and out of the Stadt. A female impressionist sang Edith Piaf’s collection of songs, and she didn’t do a bad job.

On my way to the U-Bahn a circle of multi-coloured bears caught my eye. Yes, bears! Each bear represented a different country, and the hope of the exhibition is that all countries can exist in peace…..

Our one looked awesome, I’ll post it on FB.

Yesterday I spent 7 hours in the German Historical Museum. The exhibition starts at 500AD, but I skipped the early events. I began at 1789 and by 2pm I had only reached 1914! A quick break for lunch, and back to the exhibition. I hired an audio guide for 3 euros, and I recommend doing this because it gave detailed explanations of the eras.

To compliment my stay in Berlin – I’m reading ‘The Three Emperors’ by Miranda Carter. A fascinating account of the lives of King George, Tsar Nicholas and Kaiser Wilhelm.

See you soon!

FALLING OVER IN BERLIN!

My third week in Berlin last Friday, and what a week it’s been!

Old friends visited from the UK and we had a wonderful time catching up.

Over dinner my friend who’s a nurse observed I was looking over the top of my glasses. Could I read a huge sign across the road without my glasses? I couldn’t. When I covered my right eye, I could only see blurred images and when I looked down virtually nothing at all.

Monday came and with it the start of my intensive German class. I was the oldest in the class by about 10 years. Most of my fellow students were in their 20’s and 30’s and want to live and work in Berlin. Well, it was advertised as intensive and it was. I struggled to keep up, but on Tuesday I felt the lesson past me by. I found it hard to look at the white board and then down to a text book. Maybe I was too old for this.

In the afternoon, I went to an optician and had an eye test. I had only 20% vision in my right eye. The optician gave me the name of an eye specialist and I made an appointment for Thursday. In two days time, I couldn’t believe it. It would take weeks in NZ.

The clinic was situated in the upmarket Potsdammer Platz. The waiting room had glass walls, and comfortable chairs. You could help yourself to unlimited beverages while you waited. Luckily for me the specialist spoke excellent English, and I underwent tests on two state of the art machines. She agreed with the optician’s diagnosis.

Did it come as a shock? Not completely. I remember when I was in the retreat in Goa, I couldn’t see to walk up the steps to the morning meditation. I think my vision has deteriorated since arriving in Berlin, as I have tripped over numerous times, particularly when it’s dusk and on wet cobbles.

So, what did she suggest? An operation. I have a cataract covering my right eye, which would make my vision blurred, and underneath I have a ridge over my eye which explains when I look down I can’t see, and that’s probably the reason why I couldn’t keep up in the classroom.

On Monday, I’m booked in for two hours of tests because I need a lens fitted. The operation will take place in 3 weeks’ time and last 15 minutes. Hopefully, my sight will be restored. The cost which I’ll have to pay is 3,300 euros. I can’t imagine it will be covered by travel insurance, but that’s ok.

My birthday was last Sunday. It was a strange kind of day, as I spent it alone, but it’s only another day. In the morning, I had a long Skype call with my best friend in NZ.

In the afternoon, I went to the Soviet cemetery in Treptower Park. The German guidebook describe it as uber large, but it’s massive. It was built in 1949 to commemorate the 80,000 Soviet soldiers who died in the Battle of Berlin. The stone and the granite used in the construction came from the demolished Nazi headquarters.

I walked down a tree lined avenue, and up the steps. I passed two huge blocks of red granite which depict the Soviet flag with the hammer and sickle engraved on them. On either side, there are two statues of Soviet soldiers kneeling with their heads bowed.

 In front of me, but about four football pitches away, stood a 12 metre bronze statue of a Soviet soldier, holding a small child in one of his arms. The other holds a smashed swastika.

Before you reach the statue, there are 16 stone sarcophagi on either side which represent the 16 Soviet republics. They depict heroic Soviet soldiers in battle, the Motherland, the carvings and quotes of Lenin.   

It took me a long time to walk around it, and look at all the engravings. There were also many young Russian speakers visiting the monument. I guess the sacrifice of their soldiers is taught in schools today.

Before I left NZ I read Anthony Beevor’s Berlin – The Downfall. German soldiers who survived the battle, recount the bravery of the Russians, who continued with the advance knowing they would be mown down by German machine guns.

The monument should be a sightseeing highlight. It’s a bit of a trek from the centre, but anyone interested in WWII or the Cold War would find it interesting.

I expect the Soviet Union made the East German government pay for the construction. The GDR was forced by their Soviet masters to repay huge amounts of money in war reparations. It could never have survived without Soviet assistance, as the GDR was in debt from its creation as a country. It became a buffer for the Soviets from the capitalist West and another satellite state.

Next time in the blog …. “Did I continue with my German course?”.

 

IS IT KATZE FOOD OR FUTTER?

In the supermarket, I saw the sign Katzefutter and didn’t know what it meant. Katze is cat, but futter? In German the word for food is Essen. It’s also the verb to eat. A quick email to my cousin who speaks German, futter means feed for animals. Another interesting facet of the German language, which there are many.Back to shopping, when I first went into a supermarket I looked for baskets. There were none. How do shoppers carry their goods? Well, you can hire a trolley by placing 50 cents into a slot in the top of the cart, or you can be green and carry a discarded paper box around with you. Not so good if it’s raining. No polythene bags are in German supermarkets, and shoppers usually take their own (cloth) bags with them. I recall some years ago Countdown or New World trying this out, and it didn’t go well. Customers went to the rival supermarket and the company abandoned the scheme. In Germany, you must pack your own bag!! The first day I stood there waiting for the cashier to pack it, and a queue formed behind me. The cashier doesn’t chat while she scans your goods. After you’ve paid for your shopping which you’ve put into your trolley, you go to a separate counter and repack it in a canvas bag.  In NZ or the UK, it’s very rare to find a queue waiting to use an ATM. In Berlin, it happens all the time. I was having lunch in the Karl Marx Allee (not a busy shopping area) and watched people queue to use it. Perhaps some shops don’t accept cards, or maybe Berliners like cash. I don’t know. Last week I took my first trip out of Berlin which was challenging with my very limited German. I reserved a seat on the train online to Pederborn. Why there? Because it’s the nearest town to Wewelsburg Castle which Heydrich Himmler’s SS utilised in WWII. As I plan to use the setting of the castle in the last book of my trilogy I needed to visit it.  The train was delayed getting out of Berlin by about fifteen minutes. I had to change from a fast train at Hannover to a local train. Over the intercom there were several announcements all of course, in German. I listened intently and managed to understand the train to Pederborn was leaving on platform 4 and it did!  Using trusty Google maps I walked to the hotel about ten minutes from the station. It was located on an intersection with busy roads. Great! I checked in and ordered a breakfast. I asked the receptionist about the bus to the castle. This was the tricky part, as it was about 22 kms from Pederborn. A taxi would cost over 50 Euros. She tried her best but communication was difficult. I walked to the Tourist Information Bureau where an English speaking assistant gave me a bus time table. I could get a bus, but they only ran every hour.  The next morning, I walked to the bus station in the pouring rain. Exactly on time the bus pulled up, I jumped on and asked for a return. The driver understood me. Yeah! German buses and trains have indicator boards and a tannoy system fitted so you can watch and listen for your stop. A group of students had boarded the bus with their teacher. As luck would have it, they were visiting the Castle, so all I had to do was to follow them. Wewelsburg Castle sits on a hill and is surrounded by dense trees. It’s the only triangular castle I’ve ever seen. As I walked up I saw the houses in the village were large and well maintained, but no sign of life. The castle is kept as an historical museum for the Princes of Paderborn (children go there to hear about witches) but it’s also a Memorial Museum.  For the time of year, except for two groups of students, it attracted probably eight people while I visited. The castle has been restored and is being used by groups of children as a hostel.  The North Tower where Himmler lived and renovated is open to the public.  Himmler decided to take possession of the Castle in 1932 and turned it into a school to train the SS. The Nazis were pre-occupied with the Occult, and Himmler wanted to replace Christianity with a pagan-Germanic doctrine. Wewelsburg was Himmler’s ‘Camelot’, he was King Arthur and his highest ranking SS commanders the Knights of the Round Table.  Members of the public are only allowed to view two rooms. To see the ‘Crypt’ you head down narrow metal stairs until you reach a round room. The floor has been lowered by over 4 metres. Immediately I felt cold, but not from the damp. Twelve stone seats were located around the room. Above them are twelve niches in the wall, which are now covered by paintings. Four high windows provide some light.  In the middle of the room there is a circle cut out of stone, a gas pipe juts out, possibly for an eternal flame. When I looked up at the ceiling, I saw a swastika carved into the middle. Before I took the tour, I was told under no circumstances was I to take any photos. I lifted my phone upwards, and a loud voice boomed out. “Photos are forbidden.” Chastened, I lowered my phone.  Himmler may well have used the Crypt for initiation ceremonies into the SS. Rituals and cultic events were part of the everyday life at the Castle. Climbing the stairs took me to the ‘Hall’. This room looks out over views of fields and woods, but my eyes were drawn to the centre of the room. Cushions and tables had been placed over it to hide the ‘Black Sun’. This is a grey/green sun wheel. What does it mean? Nobody knows for sure, but it had meaning for Himmler. Some recent suggestions have mentioned the Black Hole, or Black Matter. To reach the tower you must pass through an exhibition relating to the SS use of the castle with some SS artefacts, eg cutlery and books. Unfortunately, not much information is in English, and the book store is a disappointment.  As the Final Victory eluded the Nazis, the Castle was set on fire. It was restored in 1949. After initial objections by the villagers the Castle was designated a war memorial and opened in 1982. I never knew this Castle existed until by chance, I read a book which mentioned Wewelsfeld and Himmler. Perhaps people don’t know it exists, and that’s why it’s not visited.  Time for a quick snack in the restaurant, and I made my way to the bus stop. The rain had worsened. I looked back at the castle. So much evil has happened here. How can people look at that castle every day? Till next time.Best wishes. 

Jaye

Best wishes

GOODBYE TO ALL THAT (WELL, ONLY UNTIL DECEMBER!)

Finally, at last, some hot and sunny weather for my last week in the UK. A drive to Nyman’s gardens near Copthorne a National Trust property, and a look around the amazing gardens. June is a perfect time to visit the UK, the weather is warmer (if you’re lucky) and the countryside, gardens and roses are at their peak. Leave it later in the summer, say August and the roses are past their best and the lush lawns and fields turn brown quickly.

Tuesday brought a visit to Arundel Castle, the ancestral home of the Duke of Norfolk. The Norfolk family have lived at the Castle since the Middle Ages. If you’ve watched the Tudors on (TV and Lightbox – NZ) you will recall how the Duke manipulated his niece Anne Boleyn into seducing and marrying Henry VIII. Another of his niece’s Katherine Howard, also married Henry, not surprisingly the 3rd Duke fell from grace and was hauled off to the Tower.

Surprisingly the Howard family managed to hold onto Arundel Castle but their estates were divided up. During Elizabeth’s I reign the 4th Duke was imprisoned because he schemed to marry Mary Queen of Scots. The tour of the interior of the Castle takes over an hour, and for an extra 2 pounds, you can see the bedrooms where visitors of the Howards stay. Piles of books are placed on the bedtables, and the bathrooms are not all en-suite. For those who watched Victoria on tv, the dining room (great hall) at Arundel was used in the production.

If you’re in Sussex and have a spare day, Arundel is a wonderful place to visit, and it oozes history.

The next day was my brother’s birthday and I’d booked tickets for “The Play That Goes Wrong” for the evening. So, we headed up to London by train on a sweltering day. Arriving at London Bridge we saw the floral tributes for the victims of the Borough Market attack and we walked through the market. This was the first day it had re-opened and it was packed. Good to see that people are carrying on with their lives and defying the terrorists.

We had booked to go up the Chard. This is London’s tallest tower block, and stands a whopping 309 metres tall, and consists of 95 floors. When you’re looking upwards at street level, it looks a hell of a lot bigger than in photos. Following a thorough security check, similar to airport ones, we were whisked up to the observation platform. Edging to the window I looked down, a fatal mistake!

Immediately I felt nauseous, and I swear I could feel the tower moving. I managed to negotiate my way around half of the deck taking two photos, before rushing to the lift. The lift attendant said.

“Have you been up to the top deck?”

“No, take me down now. Immediately.”

He didn’t need telling twice as I leapt into the lift. I breathed a sigh of relief as it descended. My family didn’t report any negative effects and managed to enjoy a glass of champagne while admiring the view.

I’d never walked over the Millennium bridge so we strolled across ending up at St Paul’s Cathedral, which I’d never seen so clean. Back to the West End on the tube, and to Jamie Oliver’s restaurant in Covent Garden. There’s a terrific choice of dishes, ranging from pasta to burgers and for London not hideously expensive. Onto the theatre, where the play is still playing to packed houses. It’s a skit on “The Mousetrap” and the audience laughed throughout the play. Recommended if you’re in London.

Back to Brighton after an action packed day, for me a day off before my trip to Berlin.

More at the weekend.

EXPECTATIONS AND DISAPPOINTMENTS.

Finally, it was over. The UK went to the polls on Thursday for the General Election. Theresa May the British PM, appeared confident she would be returned with a comfortable majority. At every media opportunity, she repeated her slogan “Vote for me for a stable and secure Britain. I’m the only one who will ensure we will get a good deal with Brexit.”

Whatever I personally think of Jeremy Corbyn, the Labour leader, he conducted a well thought out campaign. He said he would raise taxes, in order to pour money into the NHS and abolish fees for students. Corbyn’s message seemed to galvanise young people and they turned out to vote.

One of Theresa May’s mistakes was her decision not to front up on head to head debates with Jeremy Corbyn. Instead she deputised the Home Secretary to take her place, which did not go down well here. The Prime Minister made several U-Turns, which included announcing a policy for people who needed rest home level care having to pay for it by potentially selling their homes.

We’ve had this policy in NZ for years, and I’ve never had a problem with it. I’ve also had to explain this to relatives, and I can’t recall anybody complaining about it. Anyway, it caused uproar in the UK and caused Theresa May to back pedal.

The polls and pundits predicted a significant Conservative (National) majority. By 10pm the exit polls indicated a possible hung Parliament. When I woke up on Friday morning, the Conservatives had 318 seats. Not enough to govern alone. Calls came from Labour for Theresa May to resign, but she took herself off to see the Queen and asked permission to form a Government. With the votes from the Democratic Union Party of Northern Ireland, who? No, I’d never heard of them either, she has the numbers to govern. The Leader of the Scottish Conservatives who is engaged to her female partner, is not happy about this as she feels LGBT rights in the UK might be compromised.

Theresa May spoke on television last night, and belatedly gave her commiserations to her ex-MP’s who had lost their seats. What happens now?

 A good question. Several years ago, in NZ Helen Clark hung onto power by going into coalition with Winston Peters. That didn’t end well, and I can’t imagine this will too.

Already the pound has dropped against the Euro. Brexit negotiations are due to start next week. Instead of empowering Theresa May, the election has done the opposite. Today the media is asking this question.  When will she resign and who will replace her?

Last week I spent a wonderful few days with my cousin and her husband in Winchester celebrating her birthday.

We went to the village and visited the house where Jane Austin lived and wrote her books. The countryside looked magnificent and on Friday we went to a National Trust house and garden – Mottisfont. The roses were simply spectacular. Many of them were David Austin Old fashioned roses, the scent and the colours were awesome. That day will be one of the highlights of my trip.

Back to Brighton and a day trip to London to see “The Motown Experience”. I’d wanted to see it in NY, but it closed two weeks before I arrived. The musical took the audience on a journey from the founding of the label by Berry Gordy, to the deep divisions among its artists 25 years later.  I loved it! Highly recommended.

More shopping in Brighton today! I love wandering around and people watching. Today I counted 3 female couples holding hands, nobody gave them a second glance. If I didn’t live in Auckland, I’d certainly consider living here. Brighton has such a good vibe for LGBT people.

Next Friday I’m off on my travels again. This time to Berlin. More next week.

Take care

Best wishes

TERROR, BREXIT AND UNCERTAINTY

This morning I woke up to the news that another terrorist attack has taken place on British soil. The third in three months. I’m going to London on Thursday to see a show, and this won’t stop me. I recall the threat of the IRA bombings in London in the 70’s and 80’s. Sometimes it took nearly 2 hours to get to work because of all the security alerts, but it never stopped Londoners getting on with their everyday lives. I’m hoping British grit and determination has endured and will see people through this.

Brexit appears to have divided people even families. I think it’s slowly dawning on the some of the great British public exiting the EU will not fix the problems the UK is facing. Leaving the EU will probably bankrupt it. I’m quite sure the EU will insist on considerable compensation. The cost of changing laws, passports, increased security at borders will cost the taxpayers millions of pounds.

The general election takes place this Thursday. Theresa May, the current Prime Minister is trying to persuade the public she is a safe pair of hands to conduct negotiations with the EU.

Jeremy Corbyn, the Labour leader seems to be appealing to younger voters with his message of promising more resources for the overstretched NHS, re-nationalising the railways, and increasing taxes for the rich. The Labour party’s manifesto sounds like a throwback to the 1970’s. Older votes shudder with horror as they recall these times when the UK was brought to its knees. Let’s not forget that Jeremy Corbyn was a crony of Anthony Wedgwood Benn. Benn was a supporter of the (then) Soviet Union who frequently met with the KGB.

Every night on tv pundits and newscasters rehash the day’s events. The absence of polls is noticeable. Who could believe them after their predictions on Brexit were completely wrong?

Who will win the election? Or will there be a hung Parliament? We’ll know on Friday morning.

Onto the lighter side of life. It was my sister in law’s birthday and her surprise present was a trip to London to see Mamma Mia. Alighting at Victoria Station I was amazed to see the amount of people rushing around the concourse. We took the tube to Covent Garden, one of my old haunts. It hadn’t changed, still packed with tourists. I stopped short at the end of King Street. My old bank Lloyds has been turned into a restaurant. Prime real estate I guess.

Then a delightful week with an old friend who lives in Alciston which is in the heart of the Sussex countryside. We had an awesome time visiting villages, old market towns, meals in old pubs and visited a church where the Bloomsbury set had painted murals on the walls. Simply stunning. Driving through the Sussex countryside under canopies of trees, seeing the vivid greenness which is uniquely to England was magical.

The highlight was lunch with old schoolfriends. We’ve known each other since we were 11! Yes, don’t count the years, but it’s a long time. The sun shone as we sat reminiscing in my friend’s back yard recounting the tales of our youth. Our friendship remains as strong as it had, all those years ago. Something to hold onto and treasure in these uncertain times.

Best wishes

 

Jaye

 

The photo is of me and my niece before Mamma Mia.

GAY PAREE IN 33 DEGREES!

Yes, it really was that hot. I hadn’t planned to go to Paris. I was supposed to stay with an old friend, but she cancelled a few days before. What to do? I’d finished the rough draft of ‘Intrigue in Geneva’ and was half way through ‘Intrigue in Paris.’ I relied on Google maps and old memories to recreate Paris. Some authors do all their research on the internet, but I like to visit and get the feeling of a place. If I can’t feel it, how can I expect my readers to?

In ten minutes, I’d booked a flight on Easy Jet and booked a room through Hotel.com. which had a reasonable last minute deal.

From Brighton, it’s easy to get to Gatwick airport by train, and in the space of a couple of hours, I’d arrived at Charles de Gaulle, jumped onto the RER train into Châtelet and hopped onto the Metro. Two stops later I alighted at St Paul. A five-minute walk took me to my hotel in the heart of the Marais. 

My hotel was situated on the Rue de Turenne, and the surrounding area was packed with bars, cafes and restaurants. If you eat fish or meat it’s fantastic, not so great if you’re a vegetarian. I spent over an hour looking for somewhere which had a veggie main course and had no luck. Eventually I settled for a veggie burger in an American themed café.

Day one involved an early start as I had an extensive list of locations which needed to visit.  But first a ticket for the Louvre. I’d read online that 2-3 hour queues are the norm if you turn up without a pre-bought ticket. 

Where to buy a ticket?

With a little research, I found a store called FNAC which sells them. The nearest branch to me was in Les Halles. With my new phone set to Google maps I set out to find it. Les Halles is in the middle of a major renovation, completely unrecognisable from 25 years ago. Eventually I found FNAC in the middle of a new shopping mall. Two Americans ahead of me in the queue were buying tickets and struggling. Although I haven’t spoken French for 15 years I decided to give it a go, and when I began speaking I could remember words and verbs!! I managed to buy my ticket with the date and time I wanted. This gave me confidence, and for the rest of my stay I spoke in French which brings me to my top tip. If you can learn and speak a few sentences it’s worth it. The Parisians appreciate it, and apart from one complaint from a guy (!) that I had a terrible accent, it paid dividends.

I bought fruit, asked for directions, exchanged a top which was too small, conversed about the hot spell with a waiter and ordered food.

Back on the location trail in 33 degree heat and more walking! I walked from St Jacob’s Tower all the way to Saint Sulpice on the Left Bank. I’d forgotten how wonderful the flower market on the Quai de la Corse is, and how the streets change as you walk through the different neighbourhoods.

The next day I took the Metro to the Louvre. Exiting the Metro I found myself in a huge marble shopping mall. It took me a further 20 minutes to the entrance of the museum. Having a pre-bought ticket pays big time! I breezed past the long queues, even at 10am the sun baked down, had my bag checked and I was in!

Now to find the reason why I’d travelled to Paris. Where was the Law Code of Hammurabi exhibited? A word of caution here. I enquired at the Information desk where was it located and informed that part of the museum was closed. You can imagine my disappointment. The old me would have complained. Loudly. I decided to search for it myself and it took about 30 minutes to find it, but I did locate it. See the photos. More will be revealed in ‘Intrigue in Paris.’

A good tip for sore feet. Take a boat trip on the River Seine, which is an awesome and relaxing way to see the sights.

My last day I spent visiting locations in the Marais, which used to be the Jewish quarter of Paris. Today it’s the home of clothing stores, cafes and falafel restaurants. Then a bus ride to the Eiffel Tour which is imposing close up. A security fence has been erected around the base, and crammed full of people but I couldn’t face standing in another queue for a security check.

I spent my last night in a medieval church listening to a small orchestra playing Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. Then a soprano sang a divine rendition of ‘Ava Maria’ by Bach. The atmosphere and the setting made it an evening I’ll never forget.

My final morning, I spent visiting the Shoah – the memorial to the French Jews who were murdered in WWII. Photographs of the deceased line the walls of a room, and a permanent exhibition tells the history of the history of the Jews in France. An eternal flame burns in the crypt.

Time for a quick cappuccino and then Au Revoir to Paris.

Would I recommend Paris for the solo traveller?

Absolutely. I had no problems getting tables for one in cafes. I had no one to please, and I could see exactly what I wanted. Did I mind going to the concert alone? No. When I glanced around, I saw several people who also came solo. For me being single, has been a change of mindset, and I have gradually become my own best friend.

QUEUES AND REUNIONS!

Yes, I am in the UK, but a little behind on my blog posting!

The wheels bounced as the plane touched down. Looking out of the window I craned my neck and saw the familiar slate grey skies of England.  What did I feel? Relief? Apprehension? A little of both. Not for England, but how would I get on with my family and friends some of whom I hadn’t seen for 10 years?

Disembarking from the plane, I joined the hordes of passengers shuffling towards Passport Control. Three silver cameras suspended from the ceiling, rotating continually scanning the queue. A woman next to me said. “They watch us all the time here.”

An interesting fact. Did you know that there are over 2.5 million CCTV cameras in the UK?

The queue inched forward, thirty minutes later I scanned my E passport and entered the UK. In Auckland I’ve never encountered a queue! It took another 20 minutes to locate my bag, and then out into the packed arrivals hall. I heard my sister in law shout my name and tears came. I felt overwhelmed and so pleased to see my brother and his wife.  We battled our way through the crowds to the carpark and I shivered in my summer clothes waiting for the lift. The temperature had reached 10 degrees, and I had left a humid 35.

My brother drove me to his house in Brighton. As we sped down the motorway It all felt slightly unreal but I reminded myself I hadn’t slept for over 24 hours. I gazed at the vibrant green fields and the trees. Over the last few years I thought I’d never see England again, and yet, here I was in the land of my birth.

My niece arrived after she finished work. The last time I’d seen her, she was at was at university and quite shy. Ten years later she has gained two university degrees, travelled, built a successful career, bought her own apartment and turned into an amazing woman.

The next day my niece drove me into Brighton. The centre was packed with people shopping and having lunch. Think Eden Park when the All Blacks are playing! The grey clouds parted for an hour and we ate lunch outside a veggie restaurant in the sun.

Brighton had changed. In my youth, the town didn’t have a good reputation. Rival gangs used to congregate there on public holidays and it wasn’t a safe place to walk after dark. Now It’s transformed, and become a popular place for the LGBT community to live. It has interesting shops tucked away down the Lanes. There was even a veggie shoe store!  I didn’t have time to browse but will go and have a look. Onto Churchill Square with an abundance of clothing stores, and I dived into Marks and Spencer’s. Apparently, it’s not so popular with the Brits, but I enjoyed spending an hour wandering around. The range of clothing and the quality I thought excellent compared to Farmers in NZ.

The roaming charges for cell phones in NZ are exorbitant. My niece had a great idea, she’d add me to her plan and I could benefit by getting a deal. For 19 pounds a month, NZ$36, I have unlimited texting and phones calls in the UK and Europe, and 12gb of data! What an awesome deal! Vodafone NZ please take note!

Next on the agenda was a drive to Beachy Head. As we climbed out of the car, a freezing wind whipped around us and we hurried into the National Trust Café and had lunch. Thank goodness, I had brought marino pullovers and my puffer jacket, although I hadn’t bargained on wearing them until the northern hemisphere’s winter (November).

Coastal erosion has claimed two of the six cottages which used to sit on the cliff top. I bought a stunning postcard of a river meandering through meadows. We drove and found the exact place where the photo had been taken. We continued our tiki tour through the beautiful South Down National Park which runs across the Sussex Downs.

Back to my brother’s house for a home cooked meal and an evening watching English TV!

Best wishes

Jaye

Next week’s blog – Property prices and Brexit! Plus, the Brighton Pavilion and Mamma Mia!

Pavilion in Brighton built by George. Restored. Interesting I love English history. Then the I20. A slow ascent above Brighton. London.

TV.

Traffic. Saltdean parking on double yellow lines. No horns beeping, considerate drivers, huge carparks, like Albany but for one grocery store or a mega Marks and Spencers. Why I’m not driving. See if I can manage for a year without driving. Living out of a bag with few possessions. Lots of people.

Shopping.  Choices and more choices!

Brexit and property prices.

What’s it like to live in Brighton?

(Housing, social life, cost of living). Probably not a great place if you’re single straight woman over 30.

THE RUSSIANS ARE COMING! NO, THEY’RE HERE!

And they are, in their thousands.

Signs outside cafes and restaurants in North Goa advertise menus and prices in Russian. While tourist numbers have declined from the UK, the number of Russian tourists has boomed. Taxi drivers, waiters and guides are learning Russian. Most Russians speak little or no English, and expect the locals to converse in Russian. The Indians can’t understand why they don’t learn some English. To be fair, some have a few words, but in restaurants, Russians look at menus, speak loudly in Russian and point to the dish they want. The Russians spend their days lying on sunbeds, drinking beer and rarely smiling.

My negotiation skills were needed again! I spoke to the owner of the apartments, and explained the problem. In fifteen minutes, my apartment was rearranged and transformed into an office.I took a taxi back to North Goa, and spent a week in the Albuquerque apartments in Candolim before flying to the UK.  Once more, the apartment looked quite different from the Booking.com photo but I liked the complex. A pristine swimming pool, grass which was green, not burnt brown, white painted buildings and coconut trees! My apartment didn’t have a desk. How was I going to work? I should explain the purpose of staying here for a week was to finish the prequel to ‘The Hell Of Osirak.’

One day two I decided to walk to the beach at 10am, before it became too hot, this involved a 15-minute trudge in blazing hot sun. When I arrived pouring with sweat, I couldn’t find a free sun lounger! People lay on them, or had reserved them with towels. I walked for a few more minutes, and decided to head back to my air-conditioned apartment. I drunk two litres of water in 30 minutes, and I still felt dehydrated.

I don’t know how people can lie on the beach in that kind of humidity and heat. I can only describe it as wading through porridge with 50% of my normal energy. Temperatures soared from 11am until 4m, so I had no excuse not to stay in my apartment writing.

Half way through the week, I realised I hadn’t anything interesting to write about in the blog! So, I hired a taxi driver named Tiger and he drove me to the world heritage UNESCO site to view the churches and convents of Old Goa. I decided to head out early and arrived at 9.30am. Even at that time of the day, the heat beat down relentlessly as I wandered around. Trip Advisor members give Old Goa 5 star reviews, but I didn’t find it the churches particularly interesting although they date back to the 16th century when the Portuguese occupied Goa.

An hour later, I could feel the energy draining out of me and I collapsed in the shade of a tree waiting for the driver. We drove up to the Augustine Tower. This is the site of a convent, although it’s a ruin, but the heat!  I struggled for another thirty minutes and headed back to the air-con car. I met an English woman, who had walked up a steep hill with no sunhat and no water. Mad dogs and Englishwoman!

The doctor at the retreat recommended I put coconut oil on my skin and hair after a shower and leave it to soak in overnight. Surprisingly I hadn’t managed to locate any oil in South Goa, but the manager of the apartments told me where to find some in Panjim, which is the capital of Goa. I managed to buy some there, and I headed back to Candolim.

That night, I followed the doctor’s instructions and covered myself in coconut oil. I hadn’t realised how strong the smell of coconut oil was, until I sat in a restaurant when a couple gave me odd looks and moved their chairs away!

My last few days in Goa dragged to a close. I was over the humidity, heat, dust, rubbish and poverty.

What did I find hard about travelling in India?

Seeing people, especially children living in appalling squalor and poverty. Malnourished animals living on the streets with nobody to care for them.

Would I visit India again?

I don’t think so. If I did, I wouldn’t travel solo.

Travelling to India has given me more confidence. I’ve coped with challenging situations well outside my comfort zone. I’ve learned how to meditate. I practise yoga. The back condition I suffered with for years has improved.  My stress levels have diminished. I’ve come to terms with my long-term relationship ending. The thought of living alone no longer bothers me.

Thank you, India, – you really have changed my life.

Here are my top travels tips for India everything is negotiable, even pre-booked accommodation. 

Always agree a price before getting into a tuk-tuk or a taxi.