Tuesday, 19 April 2016
Riga, Latvia and Moscow, Russia - April 2016
Judge as you find is a mantra handed down to me by my open
minded mother, a woman who can't help but see the good in the majority of the
people she meets.
When I announced my intention to travel East to behind what
was formerly the Iron Curtain and into Russia I was greeted with choruses of
"are you mad", "you'll get killed" and "what do you
want to do that for".
Barely a week at home goes by without news beamed across the
BBC network of Russian leader Vladimir Putin either flexing his political
muscles distancing himself further from the west in what is increasingly
becoming a throwback to the Cold War era, a probe into a poisoned spy, or
brutal military intervention in Syria.
I must confess that I did have some reservations (although
not enough to put me off coming) and thought that we would have to watch our
step a little, but in truth what I've discovered during my own personal time
spent in Moscow is that the people living in the city are friendly, warm,
welcoming, helpful and speak surprisingly good English, contrary to my one word
Russian vocabulary of spaseeba.
We warmed up with a day and night in the charming Latvian
city of Riga, a quaint cobbled city typical of so many other smaller Easter
European outposts.
Again, the locals were a friendly bunch and couldn't do
enough for us. Riga itself is relatively small in size (a population of well under a
million and is easy to navigate on foot) its picturesque old town packed with
bars, restaurants, stunning architecture, grand church spires and bustling
market stalls.
However as nice as Riga was, it was far from the main event.
After touching down in Moscow we hopped in a cab and headed past nondescript
Soviet high rise blocks and into what quickly became a smart, clean and awe-inspiring city.
We wasted no time in hitting the town for a Friday night in a place which is as famous for its nightlife as it is its historic landmarks
marking poignant moments in Russian history and boy, did it not disappoint.
Our destination of choice for an unexpected two night stay
was a nightclub named Gipsy.
Gipsy, as is the case with many Russian clubs, exercises a
strict face control policy whereby only people deemed good looking or rich
enough are allowed to enter.
Fortunately for us, our English accent was detected in the
sizeable queue which had already seen people turned away who would probably
considered in the more attractive proportion of the population back in the UK.
After a quick pat down we were allowed to enter what turned
out to be an absolute assault on the senses. Two large rooms made up the vast
majority of the complex which was packed with Russia's glamorous, wealthy and
powerful clad in some of the swankiest get up I've ever seen.
Face control ensured the club was never over crowded as the
DJs spun their tunes until the time that my alarm would usually sound for work.
A combination of adrenaline, vodka and red bull and knowing the fact that we'd
blagged our way into a club that never in our wildest dreams would we be able
to enter back home, ensured we were among the last to leave two nights in
succession.
A walk around Gipsy sees an impressive plethora of services including a tapas bar, restaurant, ball pool and even a kebab shop to combat late night/ early morning cravings.
The two indescribable vodka-fuelled nights proved to not be
enough to spoil our days however and we also wolfed down some tasty culinary
treats provided by the courteous, polite and attentive waiting staff, to help power us through our sightseeing itinerary.
Moscow itself is so clean that it almost glistened in the April
warmth which ensured chills the icy that we'd been told to expect would never trouble
us during our stay.
The sights need little introduction or description but must be seen to be
believed. The Kremlin, St Basil's Cathedral and Red Square are all rightly marvelled at
by all those who stop by to snap iconic pics immediately uploaded to social
media (guilty).
The buildings provide a reminder as to the world superpower
that Russia has proved to be throughout history. Nearby hawkers pedal fluffy hats, as well as t-shirts and fridge magnets depicting comical images such as Putin riding a bear holding a
shotgun, a gentle reminder of the god-like worship and cult of personality that
surrounds the leader.
Being lucky enough to take in a top flight football match
and potential title decider between CSKA and Lokomotiv Moscow was an experience
that I will never forget and one that trumped matches I've seen across England and Spain.
The game itself was an end to end 1-1 draw which featured no
shortage of goal mouth action and drama.
However, despite the entertainment on the field played out
by 22 gladiators from around the world, it was the fans off it and particular
the ultras that stole the show.
A non-stop 90 minute barrage of ear shredding noise from
both sets of fans included flares, fireworks and curiously mosh pits, with no
sign of any hooliganism, perhaps to do with the fact half the Russian army
looked to have been deployed to maintain order.
Comparing Moscow to other parts of the geographically largest country in
the world would be unfair and unrealistic as poverty and famine still hold a
vice like grip in some of the more isolated rural areas, whilst Moscovites live
lives of flash cars and Louis Vutton bags. However, even as Ferraris zip around the wide
boulevards, the recent crash of the rouble still means that drinks are cheap
and a slap-up meal totals around £10 a head.
Speaking from my own experience I can say that
Moscow was undoubtedly worth the considerable hassle of organising a visa and
my only regret is not being able to travel further and deeper into a
fascinating country which has now captured not only my imagination but also my
heart.
Tuesday, 20 October 2015
Porto, October 2015
Elegantly straddling the meandering estuary of the River Douro, picture perfect Porto deserves to be known as more than just a haven for wine connoisseurs.
While Portugal’s second city is globally famous for the packing, transporting and exporting of port wine, the city also offers stunning views and locals have a refreshingly slow pace of life.
Despite having to get up in the dead of night (1:15am to be exact) to begin our journey from deepest darkest Cornwall, it’s easy to see why Porto is becoming one of Europe’s trendiest weekend getaways.
Less than a two hour flight from Bristol Airport and we were greeted by blue skies and balmy October temperatures. Porto Airport is connected to the city via the efficient and extensive Metro system, meaning that you are in the thick of it within an hour and all for less than three euros.
Defying our distinct lack of sleep, we checked in at the centrally located Hotel Aliados which stands aside the vast avenue of the same name, chucked in our bags and immediately set about seeing what the city had to offer.
As always, we purchased a ticket from one of the city’s three open top bus tours and were ferried around for the afternoon, quickly getting our bearings and establishing points of interest to which we wished to return.
Port caves and factories aside, Porto’s showpiece is undoubtedly the spectacular views from the numerous giant bridges connecting both sides of the River Douro.
The river is lined on the one side with industry related to port production and on the other, unstable but quaint looking terracotta roofs that stack up and back up towards the city centre and its designer shops.
It’s well worth an afternoon wondering the banks of the Douro and the Ribeira district taking in the charming architecture and sampling some of cuisine at the many family-run restaurants.
In fact, the city is a fantastic place to keep active, offering long walks to sandy beaches and plenty of parks, botanical gardens and panoramic viewing spots to marvel at its splendour.
Porto also has a trendy bar scene, but one that rarely gets going until late, by which time we were often in bed due to our hectic daytime sightseeing schedule.
Although I wasn’t taken by the signature dish the franceschina (meats and bread with melted cheese spoilt by a strange beer sauce), we did manage to locate a small and cheap kitchen serving up the finest chicken and chips that have ever graced my pallet, a dish that trumped the global dining phenomenon Nando’s.
Also worth a mention is the Café Majestic, the spot JK Rowling penned her Harry Potter novels whilst living in the city, a hive of activity that offers splendid interior design and tasty milkshakes.
On the outskirts of the city is the relatively new sporting arena the Estadio Dragao, the home of Portuguese football powerhouse FC Porto built for Euro 2004.
Although neither FC Porto nor the city’s other team Boavista were at home, we managed to look around both stadiums and were taken aback by the grandeur of the Dragao and its magnificent museum which proudly shows off a glittering history complete with hatful’s of league titles and two Champions League winners trophies.
So within a short, inexpensive Easyjet guided hop and easily explorable by foot in just a few days, I’d be surprised if more people don’t start lining the banks of the River Douro to marvel at Porto’s breathtaking natural beauty and soak in its port-fuelled charm.
Wednesday, 16 September 2015
Croatia and Slovenia, September 2015
WHILE the UNESCO heritage site of
Dubrovnik may be the image that graces the covers of Croatian guide books, a
trip to the northern peninsula of Istria offers a dream break for sightseers,
foodies, wine tasters and outdoor enthusiasts.
I picked Istria as our
destination for a September getaway solely because the flight times suited our
needs - what a successful gamble it proved to be.
After the long and laborious
journey to Stansted via a Plymouth Argyle away defeat in Stevenage, we
struggled our way through the airport’s frankly shockingly inept passport and
security control to finally board our flight.
Based a five minute bus ride
outside the working port of Pula, our hotel (Splendid Resort) though basic,
offered stunning views of the Adriatic, good transport links and spacious
rooms.
Temperatures around the mid-20s
kept us sunned throughout the week as we made our way around the rugged,
spectacular peninsula.
Pula itself, though a busy dock,
offers quaint cobbled streets, a constant buzz of activity and a glorious old
Roman amphitheatre that once welcomed crowds of up to 40,000 people.
From Pula (where we ate well each
evening) we daytripped to the Brijuni Islands, the former playground of
Yugoslav leader Tito.
The islands were green and unspoilt,
but the majority of tours do not let you off to explore them. Unfortunately I
paid for a tour that didn’t stop so can only advise that others do their
homework first.
After a hearty meal of pork chops
and cabbage on board we disembarked at a beach packed with German
holidaymakers.
Although the beach was
unremarkable and pebbled (as the majority of Croatian beaches are), we took the
short walk into the coastal town/village (it’s not very big) of Fazana.
Fazana is a picturesque harbour
worthy of gracing any postcard, with a church spire towering over the coloured
roofs that look out onto the rows and rows of boats.
The following day we made our way
to the active fishing port of Rovinj, which for me, was one of the most
stunning towns I’ve ever had the pleasure of visiting.
Fishermen in Rovinj still haul
their catch in each morning from the harbour there after saying their prayers
at Saint Euphemia's basilica, an ancient
church that stands proudly over the town.
Rovinj is inevitably packed with restaurants and sightseers,
but also with beautiful and charming buildings in equal measure which give the
town a unique vibe. The town’s landscape cuts out into the Adriatic and the
wooded area to the south contains great views and hidden beaches and is well
worth a cycle around.
Other day trips included a trip to the cape of Premantura’s
Kamenjak national park which is most scenic and offers fantastic watersport and
cycling opportunities.
Around an hour’s drive away (I paid for a taxi as I’m too
much of a wimp to hire a car overseas) is the Slovenian border.
Five minutes the other side of the passport control are the
towns of Portoroz and Piran.
Portoroz mainly consists of expensive hotels and casinos to
cater for the hordes of affluent Italian visitors, but Piran really is another
jewel of the Istrian peninsula.
Again, a curious egg shaped piece of land that sticks out to
sea, the streets are cobbled, compact and overflowing with character and little
galleries and shops. Orange roofs illuminate the town’s skyline.
One of Slovenia’s few coastal resorts (Italy lays only a
short drive the other side), Piran is well worth a trip for anyone staying in
Istria. Although it might not represent a true snapshot of Slovenian life with
the rest of the country lying inland, it isn’t hard to see why so many people
take time to wander around its streets.
In a nutshell, Istria is laidback and an area of outstanding
beauty with plentiful outdoor pursuits and culinary delights on offer.
A week flew by and left me with a desire to return to Croatia
and hopefully explore some of the inland towns that I was unable to find time to visit.
The food is cheap and Istrian menu is predominantly a mixture
of Italian cuisine and seafood. Although I wasn’t a fan of their speciality
truffles, a special shout must go to one of the restaurants along Pula’s main
drag that served me up possibly the best steak I’ve ever had complete with
garlic butter. Unfortunately its name escapes me so you’ll have to go and
search it out yourself.
Tuesday, 15 September 2015
Wednesday, 1 July 2015
Dublin - City Guide
WITH friendly locals and a
compact city centre it is easy to see just why Dublin has become such a
desirable weekend break destination for Brits.
With bubbling enthusiasm my girlfriend
and I rose at the crack of dawn for what was our first overseas trip together
and we were soon in the car on our way to Exeter Airport.
Within hours we had landed, found
our way out of the airport and boarded a bus in the general direction of the
city centre, hastily disembarking when the driver announced the name of Parnell
Square.
“One moment sir, I’ll just check
for you,” said a friendly convenience store cashier as he halted a queue of people
picking up their groceries to respond to my request for directions.
Despite the frustration of the
local shoppers, he consulted Google Maps on his iPhone and sent me off up the
road to the doorstep of our hotel.
As it was too early to check in,
we threw our bags behind the front desk and immediately went out and purchased
tickets for one of the city’s sightseeing tours.
I often hear people say that the
buses are tourist gimmicks, but in my experience they allow for you to suss out
the city and pinpoint landmarks that you wish to visit for a relatively
reasonable price (19euros for 24 hours).
As the bus made its way down the
shopping haven of O’Connell Street we passed a remarkably large pointed
building, one which although I cannot remember how or why it was constructed,
was an awe-inspiring sight.
On the other side of the street
our pre-recorded tour guide pointed out the General Post Office, a building still
scarred with bullet holes from the 1916 uprising.
The General Post Office is one of
the many buildings in the city that feature prominently in tales of the Irish
struggle under British rule prior to nation’s independence.
Geographically Dublin is compact, easy to navigate once you get a general
idea of how it is laid out. The cityfolk welcome you to their city with open
arms and are fiercely proud of where they are from.
We checked out the former houses of Oscar Wilde and Jonathan Swift
before arriving at Kilmainham Gaol. For just four euros we were treated to a
guided tour, the knowledgeable guide telling us all about how the prison housed
a number of key figures in the various Irish uprising and at one point was
bursting at the scenes holding five times its official capacity of prisoners,
all forced to live in terrible conditions.
The gaol is one of a score of landmarks worth visiting by day. Along
with the impressive and historic Trinity College and St Paul’s Cathedral, there
are lists of attractions all within walking distance either side of the River Liffey
that divides the city.
In terms of evening outings, much of the city’s vibrant nightlife is
centred in the bustling Temple Bar area.
Temple Bar consists of a plethora of restaurants and bars where locals
and tourists rub shoulders as they sink pints of Guinness to the tune of
traditional Irish songs.
Despite a high presence of British stag and hen dos, the city has
managed to retain its character and avoids that knife-edge night-time
atmopshere associated with the likes of Benidorm, Malia and Magaluf.
In three days in the Irish capital I never once felt threatened and this
despite inadvertently stumbling into a colourful protest by angry protestors
against the water rates.
The restaurant and bar staff was all cheerful and welcoming, presumably
because they get to live in such a beautiful and charismatic city.
Although a pint will set you back
around five euros, I found the city reasonably priced and wouldn’t hesitate to recommend
it to couples, families or groups of lads looking for a good piss up.
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