For our latest trip, we rented a house in the south of Spain, on the Costa del Sol. The house belongs to the parents of a woman with whom Jo works. It was a townhouse style home in a holiday development area. Overseas properties are popular here in the UK as people seek nice weather using the strong pound.

Part of staying on the coast was the need to rent a car. This was the first time that either of us had driven a car in eighteen months. We had a Volkswagen Polo, which is the next size down from a Golf. In Spain, they drive on the right, which is to say right, side of the road, so there was too much adjustment there. There were a couple of issues though.

Instead of intersections the Spanish, as most places in Europe, have roundabouts, rather than intersections. These are a little confusing at first. You have to dive in, whip round to your exit and try to get out. Or whip round again and try to catch the exit next time. Fortunately, the local people are most helpful offering a toot of the horn or some directions called out of the window as they pass by. Some even indicated that our driving was number one.

Once we were on the AutoVia (highway), there were signs that said “120”. I interpreted this as a speed limit until we were quickly strafed by a Grandmother in a Fiat. It turns out that the sign was more of a floor than a ceiling. In Spain, not much is done in an unhurried pace with the exception of driving.

We drove up into the mountains to a town called Casares. It was founded in the sixth century by people from north Africa who invaded the Iberian peninsula. The town was built at the top of a mountain with a mosque and a castle looking down on the town. The buildings are all square and white. They look like sugar cubes stacked on the side of the hill. In the Arab tradition, all of the streets are narrow and winding. There is very little access for cars and most of the streets are not even wide enough for cars to pass along.




















Making friends... everywhere.

No trip to the Costa del Sol could be complete without a trip to the beach. We were lucky with the weather on the day we picked for the beach. The beaches in Spain are all public and there is access to the beach from the main street in the town. The beach was sparsely populated as it was a weekday in October. We took a picnic lunch and sat looking out at the ocean in front of us, with the mountains rising up behind us.

Gibraltar was our road trip on the Thursday of our holiday. We couldn’t drive the rental car into Gibraltar. We drove as close to the border as we could and parked the car in an underground lot. The customs had a walk-through lane. Once you walk out of the customs the road and the sidewalk pass across the only runway of the Gibraltar airport.

The top of the rock is accessible by cable car that whisks you right to the top. When you get to the top of the rock, the views are spectacular. To one side, the azure ocean and resort hotels. To another side, a view of Spain and the harbour in Gibraltar. Off in the distance, when there was a break in the clouds, you could catch a glimpse of the coast of Africa.

On the top of Gibraltar there are free range Barbary apes. These are a medium sized monkey looking creatures. They are native to the hills of Gibraltar. As they are constantly exposed to people, they are accustomed to people being around. This does not mean that they are tame. One of them pushed his way past Joanne and snatched a plastic bag out of a woman’s hand. They associate bags with food and will grab them.

Gibraltar is still a British protectorate, which has led to a great deal of uneasiness between Spain, Britain and Gibraltar. The culture there is noticeably British, as opposed to Spanish just across the border. There is a fusion of British and Spanish to the point that stores take British pounds and Euros, returning your change in Gibraltar sterling. Which is usable nowhere else.

Ronda is another ancient town in the mountains we went to see. This town is way up in the mountains. The road to reach Ronda is 49 km of twisting two-lane carved into the side of the mountain. The road is populated by the usual mix that you find on roads like this. Tourists that plod along, local people familiar with the road who clip along and the trucks that easily double the speed limit.

Despite this, the road was amazing. We came around a corner and saw flock of Kestrels soaring on the thermal currents coming up from the valley far below. Kestrels are large birds, like a falcon that have a wingspan of six feet. The road often turned and open up a wonderful vista of the mountains and the fields in the valley below.

The old part of Ronda was also built in the sixth century as a walled city. It is built next to a gorge that is 300 feet deep. When the Christians invaded and conquered the Arab founders, they expanded into what is now the “new” town on the opposite of the gorge. This was in 1485. There are two bridges in the town than span the gorge, making for dizzying views.


Spain seems to ahead of many of the places that we have been in terms of wind-generated power. From the balcony of our house, we could see as many as twenty wind turbines on the ridge of the mountain. It seemed that there were turbines on top of each of the mountains. We drove past a wind farm that had no fewer than four dozen windmills.


About the only thing that we had go wrong was my allergies. I do suffer from a bit of hay fever, but nothing too big. Usually, I have about a month of having to take a bit of Sudafed or similar. Whatever I am allergic to was in full force in the Spain. In fact, I think that there was some of it there on vacation from other countries.

We sat watching the Rugby World Cup on Sunday evening and my allergies were so bad, Joanne appeared from the kitchen with an ice pack in her hand. I had to spend the evening holding these to my face to be able to breathe. Attractive.

October 4th was our fifth anniversary.
Because I love her, I got Joanne this for her anniversary present.

We did not know what to expect when we moved here. We were fully ready to have to wait until we got home to see any of our friends and family. Since we have been in London, we have had more than just a few visitors form the old country. Some, like Toni and Sarah were visiting London as a trip and some, like Drew and Peter were passing through on the way to somewhere else.

The latest visitors to London were George and Sharon. They were in London as part of their travels around the UK. We met them in central London on the Thursday of their visit. Dinner was at a restaurant near the Baker Street station called Giraffe. They were accompanied by their cousins Allan and Anne.

It was nice to see family again. We had a good visit with them and caught up with the goings on back home. They brought pictures of some of the new arrivals and news of the family.

Their schedule meant that we could only catch them for dinner that night. They were in London only for a few days and then off to the Midlands to meet more family. Visitors are always welcome here in London!

Hello,

Well, I haven’t put anything up here for awhile. Up until the end of last week, I was working away in a tough situation. My job has been circling the drain for a while now and the office finally closed last Friday.

The company that I was working for was bought by a larger company. As with so many situations in business, the big fish eat the little fish. The result was that the new owners decided that there would be a benefit to moving my business area to Preston, north of Manchester.

Past of the plan to move the business involved most of the staff, myself included would spend time at the new office training and supporting the new team. I had agreed to spend three weeks there. The last week ended up being split into two part week stints.

The first time I arrived at the hotel in Preston, there was, appropriately, a large drain cleaning truck with a large stainless tank on the back. This, in retrospect, should have been a harbinger of things to come. As it turned out, there was an ongoing drain problem that resulted in the bar and the parts of the reception area in the hotel being rather smelly. This problem had existed before my stay there and was noticeable on the day that I finally left.

The process of training and support was not as smooth as you might have expected. This was due in part to a short time line and insufficient planning. Claims management was a new business in an office that is entirely a call centre. This provided an entirely new set of challenges for the business. It also led to an entertaining discussion one day between me and the new Team Manager that quickly exposed the core issues.

It all came to an end and I was more than happy to leave. I am now unemployed again. The last time I was unemployed was when we arrived here in England. That was a time of enormous upheaval. Being out of work was a part of all of the stuff going on at the time and getting a job was integral to starting being settled. Now, the next job will be a little better considered and hopefully will be that last one I need to look for here.

One of my unemployment projects will be to bring you up to date on some of our goings on over the summer.

Happy Canada day! We changed the page on our calendar this morning. Starting our second year here. There were Canada Day celebrations at Trafalgar Square in central London. These were put on by the Canadian Consulate, which is right beside the Square. There was a concert with the likes of Montreal’s Sam Roberts. Oddly, though, this all happened on Friday, the 29^th.

We have been laying low the last little while. After last month’s trip to Italy we have been hanging around London, aside from some day trips around the area. We had yet another visitor to London in June. Our friend Peter, who is working his way around the world stayed over for a few days. Brave man, camping on our floor, but he claims it wasn’t too bad.

When I think that Jo and I travel, we pale in comparison to Peter and his wife Tennille. They have been travelling through Africa, the Middle East and Europe. They have been out on the road for seven months now. They stayed anywhere from five star hotels in Egypt to camping out while on safari to hostels in Europe. The photos on their blog are breathtaking.

The three of us went to Rochester, which has a castle and a cathedral. The cathedral is the second oldest in England. It is the midpoint between London and Canterbury. It was founded by the Romans in the first century AD. The foundations of the wall around the church yard remain from Roman construction.

We also travelled to the seaside at Dover. The attraction at Dover is the white cliffs and the castle. We explored the castle which dates back to the early 1200’s. It was an ancient hill fort for Celtic tribes before the Romans used it as a shipping port. We also had a tour of the tunnels in the cliffs. These were a wartime command centre and were only recently opened to the public.

Dover, the town, is somewhat less interesting. Or should I say, interesting for a different reason. I reckon that the busiest man in town is the one-eyed tattoo artist. Yikes, Dover is scaly. When fine dining is considered Subway, you are in Dover.

When we first said we were moving to London, everyone said that we would have wet gray summers to contrast the wet, gray winters. Well last year was none of that. The summer was hot. Hot like a Toronto summer. Well, this summer has delivered on the UK promise of dull weather. I haven’t had to water the garden for what seems like weeks now. We’ve had two kinds of weather; rainy and very rainy. Jo and I have been caught out in the rain at least three times in the last month. Wait – four, she just came in from the laundry cursing the rain.

There have been two instances of car bombings this week. One was attempted here in London and the other was in Glasgow. To allay your fears, Jo and I weren’t at the Tiger Tiger night club, so there was little danger from the car bomb that was found in London. As for the one in Glasgow, the terrorists were apprehended by onlookers. I don’t know what you know about Glaswegians, but I’ll bet they were wishing to be back in the fire. Sounds like disorganized crime to me.

In the six years I races motorcycles, about six corners are etched in my mind. These are the ones that caused eye-widening, sphincter-tightening, dry-mouth fear. The decreasing radius turn two at Tillsonberg, turn two at Welland with that diabolical dip and the entire, monstrous, stock-car track in Florida I raced on. Those are etched in my memory due to the fear that they inspired. It must be something about being nearly paralyzed with terror.

June 24th, 2007. Today marks the first anniversary of Jo and I in London. It is hard to believe that it is a year in more than one way. It's gone so fast. It's been so long.

Today, to celebrate our anniversary, we walked back to the neighbourhood where we stayed when we first landed. Walking along Belsize Park felt like we had stayed there about a week ago, not a year.
We walked along Haverstock Hill and it was entirely familiar as if I had walked down it every day. The Budgen's supermarket, Costa Coffee and Pizza Express were all exactly as I remembered. As we walked along up to the high street, Jo remarked she remembered going up the hill to the Tube station more than once to job interviews. It is all so clearly etched in our memory.

Taking stock, we have done pretty well I think. Jo is happier at her job than any other place that I've seen her working. Her boss called her in and informed her that they were happy to keep her full time beyond the end of her contract in August. I've had two jobs. One was good. The other, well, let's say not so good. But I can see the end of that one.

One of the reasons we made this move was to travel. To that end, I feel we have succeeded. (In fact I really, really must blog up about Italy). We have seen lots of places in both the UK and Western Europe. If you've kept up with the blog, you know what I mean. If you haven't, have a look back. More than a trip a month, which is not bad I think.

We carried on to Camden Town which is the place to go for, oh let's say - alternative culture. Motorhead t-shirt? Punk Rock clothing? Body Piercing? Tattoos? Camden Town has got it all.




















In the stores and boutiques of the Camden Road, Jo got a new bag. Nothing is better than adding a new bag to the collection. Oh, right. And some shoes. And a bracelet. Life is good here. Things have worked out well. Good jobs, reasonable (if tiny) flat, some new friends. We've done alright, I think.

So the point of my opening to this blog? I remember all of it. Beginning to end. I promise that I won't, but I could tell the story in real-time. In terms of scaring myself, this beats all that came before. But measured on how rewarding it has been, that's off the scale.

If I had read The Canterbury Tales by Chaucer, I would open this entry with a clever tie in. But I’ve never read any Chaucer. I have no segue to lead you into this piece. And, let’s be honest, I’m not really that clever. So I’ll start by telling you we went to Canterbury on the train the other weekend. This is a story of some stuff we saw.

Canterbury existed as a settlement before the time the Romans controlled Britain, so there have been people on this site for at least two millennia. It has been a centre of the Christian faith since 597AD when the Pope sent some Augustine monks to convert the Saxons. It was chosen as the seat of the first archbishop.

Upon exiting the rail station, you cross over a foot bridge and find yourself on the medieval wall that surrounds the city. The current wall is likely built on foundations laid by the Romans. It is quite a sensation to walk around the guard towers of these walls and look down onto a four-lane ring road, a Renault dealer and a night club.

As you walk to the centre of what was the centre of the city you find a pedestrian area. It features the usual selection of touristy tea room and souvenir shops, but in centuries old buildings. It is easy to imagine it as the centre of daily life. Instead of a chain shoe store, a cobbler and a butcher with carcasses hung in his window instead of the Cornwall Meat Pasty store. There are buildings wobblier that a traghetto ride which form narrow alleys and passageways

There is also a worrying number of shops dedicated to the slacker lifestyle. Their stock in trade is studded dog collars, Iron Maiden t-shirts and hookah pipes. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, just strikes me as an odd contrast to the usual businesses that you find in a town that features a UN World Heritage Site. There also appears to be plenty of slacker customers to be seen, well, mostly standing around. Although some manage to summon the energy to do a few ollies on the skateboard .

Looking at the outside of the cathedral it is easy to see the various pieces that have been built and modified over the years. The brick work differs showing areas built at different times and the style of the arches is not consistent around the entire building. The original stained glass windows were smashed during the Civil War of 1640. These windows have, of course been replaced and some as recently as 2000.

During the second world war, because Canterbury is close to the south east coast of England, it was heavily bombed. The cathedral’s library was destroyed by air raids. Teams of watchers patrolled the roof of the cathedral at night to deal with incendiary bombs dropped by the Luftwaffe.

For people who claim not to be religious, we do seem to go to quite a few churches. When you read the Italy entries that will soon follow, you will follow us into even more still. The link that they help provide to the past makes them worth exploring.