Making Room and Turning out the Attic

I've been forced into it.   Clearing out, I mean.  I'm trying to find room for all the treasures from my mum's house but with the best will in the world I can't keep them all and charity always seem overburdened - in fact,  I  think they probably throw most of their donations away. I can't blame them but I'm not going to drag my stuff down there just to have it chucked into someone else's bin.

Luckily, Freecycle came to the rescue.

In case you haven't heard of Freecycle, it's a system whereby you advertise things you want to give away, and other people come and collect them. No money changes hands, so it is best for things that are slightly damaged, or fragile, or quirky, and which your friends can't find room for.   I like the idea of recycling treasures, and some of the stuff I have been giving away is really sweet.

This elegant little teapot has a cracked repaired lid but I'm so glad someone wanted it.

I would have kept this small length of cheerful seaside-y fabric, if I was into sewing clothes

On the other hand, I was glad to say bye-bye to this string puppet - clowns give me the creeps and I never liked string puppets even as a child.  Now, though, it has a loving home.

I've also been turning out my own attic and finding things I'd forgotten I had. Like an album I bought for 50p off a group of nuns in a car boot sale once. (Why nuns? I don't know!).  The album was an illustrated diary of one woman's visit to France and Germany just after the end of World War 1. Typed with a blue ribbon on flimsy paper, stuck into the big grey album and illustrated with her own photos, it's a unique account. I don't know who wrote it, but she was obviously  in the welfare services, and something of a VIP.    

Although the war had just finished, her description of the battlefield devastation was chilling, with miles of rusting barbed wire and mud  - she noted that the dead soldiers had been gathered up and were in certain areas marked with crosses, although they were not properly buried.

Life was not comfortable for anyone, and although she was given a motor car to go around in, it kept going wrong.  She visited Cologne where people were worried about the perceived threat from Rosa Luxemburg's Spartacus League.  She went to France and  noted how she had to climb over heaps of rubble to get photos of the devastation in France. Here is a corner of Ypres cathedral, with a British soldier in the doorway.

She photographed a market with women trudging through the ruins with their shopping baskets, and she was full of admiration for the people who were starting to recreate their towns and villages from literally almost nothing, and with nothing.

As indeed they did.   This is the same bit of Ypres Cathedral,  95 years later:

Reading this fascinating and disturbing account (which I had really almost forgotten) gave me an idea for a writing project, which is what I'm working on right now.

I've been doing some other things. Went to the V&A with my arty cousin Lorna.  We loved  the shadows cast by the redundant screen from Hereford Cathedral. Here is just a little part of this masterpiece of Victorian cast iron - if you go to the V&A, take a look - the screen towers just above the main entrance.

The museum is apparently renovating the Cast Court, one of my favourite rooms. It's vast and very tall and it holds life sized plaster casts of architectural features and famous statues. Here you see Michelangelo's "David" eyeballing the guy who is photographing him.

And I had a nice evening at a magic-lantern gig at the Green Note in Camden which is  a cafe bar with great food and  unusual and interesting music

And saw some wonderful GOATS in the centre of the city (I'll write more about that soon)

Now, I need to get rid of the bug which is still plaguing me. I think I'm on the mend. I have got my voice back, and my system is not so full of sticky gunge as it was. But I am so very tired. I went to the gym for a short, mild work out and I have felt utterly shattered for the rest of the day.

Cool in Hamburg

I should be giving you an idea of some of the many things I've been up to lately.  It hasn't all been moping around and feeling ill, but I realise this blog might have rather given the impression that it has.  Rest assured I have done some great things which I have enjoyed a lot.  

For instance, after Rhodes,  I went to the German city of Hamburg.   In a way it was my first visit.  I say "in a way" because actually, I spent 18 months living really near Hamburg as a kid.  I learned to sing  "Auf der Lüneburger Heide"  (although not exactly the same as this bloke - different hat, for a start))  I ate Makronen at Christmas and I went to the Domfest in the Spring.  But I don't remember the city itself - which would have been very different in my childhood from what it is now, anyhow.

So it was all new to me, really, and I'd like to tell you about the place where I stayed, which was unlike anywhere I'd been before.  It was called Superbude St Pauli and it calls itself a hotel-hostel.  I had no idea what a hotel-hostel is, but it turned out (predictably perhaps) to be a bit of hotel and a bit of hostel.  

At first I thought it was pure hostel, and a grotty one at that, right in the middle of Hamburg's Graffitiville

and a grim looking exterior  it had (below) - I think it used to be a factory. 

and the entrance isn't exactly prepossessing. You either take that slow red lift, or climb up some tatty concrete stairs.

Then you get inside and it starts to make more sense. The walls are bright yellow, and there's a big lobby where you can hang out, get snacks and drinks, play on the computer or read the magazines provided - mostly about trainers or skateboarding fashion, it's true, and also in German - but it's bright and spacious with room to socialise and it's really very welcoming....

The decor suggests that the place has all been put together on a shoestring, using recycled materials, but take a closer look and it quickly becomes obvious that lots of money has gone into it. Sure, some of the armchairs below appear to be made out of old wheelbarrows ...

They are even as uncomfortable as sitting in real wheelbarrows would be, since there is no room for a normal human rear end in them. But look again and try to imagine them as real wheelbarrows, you'll see that no real wheelbarrow was ever that shape.  No, these hard, uncomfortable chairs were specially made. They're Art. .

So were the magazine racks thoughtfully placed next to the toilets - that's not a real flip flop nailed to the wall. It's a bit of interior decor.  

And the furnishings in the room isn't really made of recycled wood. And the phrase written in large letters opposite our bed was rather elegantly spread over the grey wall, and when I followed it up I learned about some interesting music  I hadn't encountered before.(click to hear)

The washbasins and taps in the bathrooms are expensive and elegant.  There are beautiful fresh flowers on the long tables at breakfast.

And organic juices. And everything very, very clean.

I was puzzling about what it all meant when in a flash of inspiration, I realised that the Superbude St. Pauli is very, very cool.   Trust me not to recognise coolness when I see it!    

I decided I really liked it, and not just because the more I looked the cooler it seemed.  .Actually, when I went out to explore, I realised the area around was very cool too.  True, it was graffiti-covered and scruffy but it too was full of organic shops and music and interesting restaurants, grand old buildings painted up crazy, and home made constructions catching the eye...

I notice that Tripadvisor and booking.com give Superbude St. Pauli top marks. It costs about the same as a regular Ibis or Holiday Inn, but I'd choose it any time.    Take a look at its entertaining website here. 

I will probably write more about Hamburg, but next post, I hope to tell you about some of the things I've been doing closer to home.

Catching up...... clearing out....... and the miraculous ikon.

I've been quite ill, which thank God is not usual for me.   I suppose it's just a virus but one of the side effects is that I have lost my voice, and I'm staying away from people in case I pass it on to them.  I've been busy sorting out my mother's house, which had a LOT of stuff in it, and trying desperately to find room in our house for the numerous things that I can't see myself using but certainly don't want to throw away - at least, not yet.

Like for instance this weighty red tin box of paints, which came from Kashmir at least around 80 years ago or even more..   The note inside them, written in a relative's handwriting, gives complicated instructions for using them, and says they came from Qasim Bros, Dalgate, Srinagar, Kashmir.  The  bit of gorgeous broken china is used as a mixing palette. Each pot of pigment is in a tightly sealed bottle in its own tightly sealed brass box, and the white pigment I show is like mother of pearl with lots of different shades.

It's just a little bit like one of those items you find in the attic in a children's magic book.  I would like to think I would open one of the canisters and a genie might be inside, instead of a bottle of pigment....

Anyway, I wanted to do another post about Greece - about Tsambikos, a Christian-name which you'll hear a lot in Rhodes (or Tsambika for a girl).  In the local dialect, the word apparently means "flicker of light" and it refers to a miraculous ikon which was found, surrounded by candles, on a hillside not far from the village of Lindos.   This ikon works various miracles, and in particular it can help women who are trying to conceive.

It's now kept for safety in a larger monastery at the bottom of the hill, but in about 1300 a small church was built at the top of the hill and this is where pilgrims (and, in the season, tourists) come to climb 300 steps to the top.  (Women who want to conceive have to climb it on their knees.)

As we were early in the season, we had the hillside almost to ourselves.  It's fairly hard work climbing the steps, which are widely spaced and very irregular - quite steep at times, too.  So after a bit, I was impressed to look behind me and see this family, with three children and granny, making their way up pretty fast and catching us up. (Granny is lagging behind in this photo).



When we reached the top the landscape opened out to the mountains on one side and the sea on the other.

And we finally made it into the courtyard of the little church, which was painted a dazzling white, spotlessly clean, and very peaceful and welcoming.

The dimness inside is welcome after the brightness and heat outside.    The ikons shown below are not particularly miraculous, as I understand, but they are beautiful, with their silver glimmering in the shade, and the little lamps burning. .

The family arrived very soon after we did. They settled down in the shade, and took out their picnic. And (sa I said in the last post) they shared it with us, because we didn't have anything. .

Then the mother took her little daughter into the side chapel and she made the signs of the cross with the oil there on the little girl's cheeks, forehead, hands and other parts of her body - the little girl of course didn't want to stay still.   You may be able to see the lacy cloth on the table behind where there are votive offering hanging, but perhaps not - the contrast between dark and light was really dazzling.

I think the little girl might have been a Tsambika.   Maybe they made a pilgrimage every year to say thank you to God for her. I wish I had asked her mother, now.   We stayed there for an hour or two. It was such a delightful place to be, and the children had a great time wandering around , playing and exploring. 

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On grey days here I like to think about how it felt high up on the hill, in that peaceful church, with the cicadas calling and butterflies fluttering around, and the kind Greek family who shared their food with us. 

Hiking in Rhodes

The new header photo above was taken in Rhodes - thought I'd include a few people this time, since people are a big part of what travelling's all about, for me.

As you'll remember, perhaps, I went on a hiking trip. Actually there were just two of us - T. and me - because we were going so early in the season, so we had our guides, Richard and Phil, completely to ourselves (usually just one at a time though) and  they were great company. They also tailor made a trip to suit what we wanted and felt comfortable with.

So Richard was taking us on a walk up Akramitis, the second highest mountain in Rhodes. It's not actually that high, and once you're over the summit, you descend into a beautiful valley with views of the sea, which eventually winds down towards a small chapel and then ends up in a village with the imposing name of  Monolithos.

Although we were nearly blown off our feet by the wind at the top, the descent into the valley made me think of those old stories where pilgrims reach a haven and realise they're approaching somewhere they want to be. The sea was deep blue and covered in "white horses" whipped up by the wind,

and as we descended, we saw that the rocky slopes were covered in wild flowers,

 including jewel like anemones of many colours from deep red to palest mauve

or shocking pink.

So we walked through this natural paradise till we came to a chapel where Richard suggested we ate our bread and cheese.

The chapel was very tiny, situated on a track several kilometres from the nearest village.  When we arrived, we saw a bonfire burning and people apparently camped around it.  As we settled to eat our picnic, several people from the group came and asked us to join them and share the souvlaki they were cooking on the bonfire.

It turned out that they were from the local area. They'd decided the chapel needed freshening up and repainting, and had decided to spend the weekend doing it.  (Here is how far they had got - note the bags of building materials, all carried in on the path)

....   and when they saw us, strangers, sitting there, they invited us to share their food.

This is so very typical of rural Greece, when people don't seem able to bear it if they don't make you feel welcome in their territory.  We had a great chat with them - many of them spoke good English - and went on our way feeling happy.

This kindness to strangers is one of the many reasons that Greece has a special place in my heart and why I'm wondering why on earth it's been so many years since I was there. I suppose I was a bit scared it would have changed, and become full of tourist touts. Or that the recent troubles there and anti-immigrant feeling we have seen on the news might have spread out and polluted the atmosphere.

Rhodes hasn't had the economic problems of Athens, and those we spoke to were disparaging of the neo-fascists, (while recognising the protest-vote element of their fairly short lived support). Of course things are always worse in cities, but even there the standard of honesty and friendliness is generally high in Greece.

As we walked around the lonely tracks in the countryside, we were offered all kinds of small gifts from strangers - oranges, flowers, fizzy drinks.  A charming family who had climbed up the 300 steps to the monastery of Zambikos gave us some fabulous mushroom pies. I'll write about Zambikos on my next post about Rhodes.

Usually I hesitate to give too many glowing recommendations, because I often don't pay for my own trip, and I really don't like the feeling that I'm advertising.  However, I paid my own way entirely on this trip to Rhodes so T and I have no hesitation in recommending the company we went with, "Walking Rhodes."  Phil and Richard really knew what they were doing, knew lots of interesting places we'd never have found ourselves, and generally seemed to love their work.  Everything was organised for us apart from the flights, and we were happy with it all.   And given that I have been on some pretty amazing trips it's good to be able to say that.

Soon. Later. And Rhodes - Θα το κάνω αργότερα.

 I am spending a lot of time sorting out my mother's estate as well as doing bits and pieces of work. I haven't written here because I want to do a good job of sharing my travels and my life - that's the reason I write the blog, really.  No point in writing up some scrappy post is there? Or that is what I have been telling myself. .

But I've been to Greece, I have a packed diary and a trip to Germany coming up. So I'm going to post  .. well ... SOMETHING.about wonderful Rhodes.

There are all kinds of things to write about Rhodes, and I will do more than one post on it. But I'll just say for now that it's been under the control of Turks and Italians, it has some fascinating history. and - to me - even more fascinating architecture. This is the government offices, but it looks distinctly like Venice, doesn't it?  (And, English readers - just check out that Belisha beacon!)

Its old town is very Middle Eastern in feeling, though whereas the streets of Beirut, Damascus (as it was before the war, of course) or Istanbul would be busy and full of people of an evening, the touristy bits of Rhodes Old Town off-season were strangely quiet and deserted.

To be honest, I didn't warm to the very historic bit, because it was so carefully preserved as to be pretty lifeless.  Luckily, when you got into the back ends of the old town, there was lots of normal Greek life going on.  Here are some kids having a whale of a time in a ruined temple with their toy guns - it was a completely fabulous place to play and I was almost jealous of them being little and being able to roam all over this place that lookedl like an Indiana Jones set.

As you would expect, there is so much fine scenery off the beaten track.

And we saw countless spring flowers.

We went with a very good company called Walking Rhodes - and it is a trip I paid for, so it was genuine holiday, not commissioned, (although I will write something about it and hope to place it in some publication..  When I get time.)

When I get time.  When I get time to sort out - or even look at my photos.  When I get time to look at the journal I kept. When I get time to write up the German story, which IS commissioned. When I get time to do my paperwork,  deal with the house sale, celebrate birthdays and see friends even maybe do a spot of housework...  And I should really change that wintry header picture too, now. Even read a book or watch some television.

Am I getting lazier? I know I am getting older, but still not quite sure why I'm not on top of it all.  I used to be the wizard of multi tasking. I suspect some of the reason is that I am still having other problems which are not yet sorted, too, and which I don't really want to share on this blog. And maybe I really am just a bit lazier than I was...

Well, never mind. I'll write another post about Rhodes soon.. Later. I'll do it later. What's that in Greek?. (Google Translate says it's Θα το κάνω αργότερα. Apologies to Greek speaking readers if that is wrong! )






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On Learning Greek, and Model Railways, and COLDNESS

I've been very fully occupied sorting out things to do with my mother's estate.  I'm trying to get round blogs so my apologies if I haven't yet reached yours! And I also have a couple of trips coming up, soon, so my time has been very full.

One of the trips is to Greece. We used to go to Greece so often (almost always with our bikes - the Greeks thought we were totally insane cycling round rural roads in remote areas).that T and I actually learned some Greek.  Where we went, people often hardly spoke any English.

We took Greek lessons with a delightful man who was convinced that the best possible textbook for us was an ancient children's alphabet primer.

It gave interesting glimpses of the daily life of country people not so very long ago.    Here is the page to teach the infants the letter "fi."   You see little Anna confidently blowing the flames to make the fire blaze up, and when the flames don't get high enough, she gets more kindling until she succeeds.   Of course children had to do this and no doubt were taught to be careful..

A later edition of the book had new pictures.   In the new book, Anna is blowing the fire rather than feeding sticks into it by herself.   But I love this picture, she looks so calm and competent in her little apron and her ankle strap shoes.

Unfortunately I forgot all the Greek I ever learned. I don't have any talent for languages, but T is now reminding himself (with the BBC language course) of what he has forgotten, so I expect we'll be fine. Where we're going, they probably all speak English anyway.

Other than studying Greek, we found time yesterday to take S to the annual Model Railways show at Alexandra Palace. It is a regular outing and we always enjoy it.  I never fail to marvel at the absolutely incredible model making skills of the club members who exhibit.  I don't suppose they are professionals, and yet they turn out work that could hardly be improved upon.

Here's just a detail of the background of the Helford Valley Railway.   I am not even sure this railway ever really existed - click the link and read up about it and make up your own mind! Hmmmmm....

But I feel as if I could step right back into this little Cornish village in 1920 - don't you?   The houses are about 70cm high - about dolls house size.  All the stones of the houses are irregular, the concrete yard in the front is weathered, the roads have stones on them......

Each year we try to choose our favourite diorama, although it is always hard to pick just one.  Since the weather outside is so cold outside, this frosty diorama of Kinmundy appealed to young S.

London's actually getting better weather than most other bits of the country, so we didn't have any problems getting to the venue, unlike some of the exhibitors, who didn't manage to turn up.  Parts of the trip between our home and Alexandra Palace were lovely in a Lion Witch and Wardrobe-y way.

Actually I didn't feel too well, and ended up looking like poor old Yiayia (Grandma) in this picture.   I see that I have written the translation (although I am darned if I could translate it now.)   Grandma reckons that it is freezing, and she wants her corner by the fireplace.  Corner by the fireplace!  YESSSSSSSSSSSSS!

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Just admiring the bulbs....

I wasn't best pleased to see this visitor on one of our balconies, fully thirty feet off the ground.  When he noticed me, he leaped off, stuck his little paws out at all four corners and almost glided down to a tree beneath.

Wildlife, ain't it wonderful, eh?  I am still glad I persuaded him to leave BEFORE he started munching on the tulips.

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