Posts in category "travel"

The Brightside family holiday in Spain was a very relaxing affair. For a period of 10 days, I didnt watch a television, read a newspaper, stare at a computer screen or even turn my mobile phone on.

In fact, I sat by the pool, listened to music, swam, ate fantastic seafood, thought a lot and ploughed my way through the Millennium trilogy by Stieg Larsson.

One hot, sunny afternoon, my relaxation was disturbed by the most awful, horrible, blood curdling screams. I consulted my iTouch; 'D-7' by that popular 90's beat combo - Nirvana. Ah that explains it. I returned to 'The Girl Who Played With Fire' and the exciting adventures of Lisbeth Salander.

Almost immediately, my train of thought was interrupted by yet more loud, agonising, terrifying animalistic screams. I looked across at Norma who was embracing the Spanish culture with a short mid-afternoon siesta so it definitely wasn't her.

I consulted the iTouch again as the blood curdling screaming continued unabated. Ah - 'Welcome to the Atrocity Exhibition' by the popular 80's beat combo - Joy Division from the 'Live at the Paradiso' bootleg (available from all good Torrent sites).

I reduced the volume by a notch and was about to summon up the energy to adjust the parasol to get some shade.

Suddenly, away to my right, I saw a flash of green as my radiant wife, Norma, suddenly and spontaneously leapt from her sun-lounger. That's strange I thought - Cocktail Happy Hour doesn't start for another 40 minutes. I watched Norma as she ran at breakneck speed towards the swimming pool.

I thought I'd be sociable so I turned my music off and went to join her for some watery frolics followed by discussion of the very important issue of the choice of venue for tonight's meal.

I stood next to her at the edge of the swimming pool and suddenly my brain went into overdrive. My iTouch was off and yet the loud, agonising screams continued.

Wait - there was a middle aged man splashing about in the water. Wait - is he in difficulty ? Wait - he can't be - this pool is 1.80m at its deepest. I can stand up in the pool everywhere apart from 2 square metres where I have to stand on tip-toes. Wait - he's shorter than me. Wait - what the heck is going on here ?

As my brain struggled to parse the situation in front of me, Norma spontaneously and spectacularly leapt into the swimming pool.

It's a horrible, hackneyed cliche but it was like watching life in slow motion. The middle aged man was still thrashing about rather frantically and he was making the most horrible noises. Loud, prolonged, deep blood curdling noises. At first, I wondered if he was a Joy Division or Nirvana fan and just singing 'D-7' followed by 'Welcome to the Atrocity Exhibition' in his very own unique version of underwater, punk karaoke.

Norma and another gentleman in the pool gradually moved towards drowning man like two sharks closing in on their prey. But without the triangular fins.

Finally, my brain woke up. This guy didn't appear to be larking about. There were no children with him. He genuinely looked like he was flailing his arms around and panicking like, well, a drowning man. His eyes were open and he was conscious and vertical but I wondered if he was having a fit or an asthma or panic attack.

As I considered entering the water, Norma got closer to the drowning man. I heard a voice behind me: 'Can we go and get an ice-cream yet Dad ? It's nearly 4 o'clock.'

My daughter Norma Jeane was at my side carefully reviewing progress on her sun tan and, incredibly was thinking about her stomach rather than the drama unfolding in front of us. Even more incredibly, Norma Jeane is a qualified life guard.

'Hang on Norma Jeane - your Mum's a little busy at the moment saving a drowning man.'

'Oh - shall I just get her a Magnum Classic then ? Have you got any Euros ?'

Norma reached the flailing man and went to lift him. The man seized his opportunity and pushed down hard on Norma's shoulder to lift himself out of the water and get some air into his lungs The laws of physics meant that he immediately pushed Norma fully under the water. Norman Jeane offered 'Oh yeah - that's a classic life saving mistake. We did it on the course. You should always support the drowning man low down before he has a chance to grab you and risk drowning you.'

Thankfully, the man's screams finally subsided and Norma and the other man lifted the man, rather ungracefully, up onto the poolside - laid out like a beached seal. The hotel pool man immaculately clad in white shirt and white long trousers (like an extra from 'An Officer and a Gentleman') ambled over. 'Everything ees OK, si ?'

I dont know if all the clever Spanish people who study English leave the country or whether translators arent very well paid in Spain but heres some amusing signs from my recent holiday in Marbella.

‘Deposit all remainders here' - Malaga airport.

I duly placed ‘2' in the receptacle. This was left over when I was testing Norman Jeane and asked her to quickly divide 12 by 5.

‘Millionaires - Private Gentleman's Club. Members only. Please always use rear entrance' - Puerto Banus.

Superb English. Nothing wrong with it at all. I suspect Finbarr Saunders of Viz was commissioned for this wonderful sign.

‘Please wait 3 minutes before pulsating' - water bottle dispenser in public car park in Ronda.

I am ashamed to say I could only last 2 minutes and 43 seconds before spontaneously and rapidly pulsating. The car park attendant looked at me a little strangely.

People never ask me Hey Norman - where has your glamorous globe trotting lifestyle as a IT consultant taken you this year ?

• January - Bergen
• February - Berne, Blackpool
• March - Madrid, Cairo
• April - Slough, Macclesfield
• May - Lisbon
• June - Warsaw
• July - Brisbane, Perth, Broome, Darwin (holiday)
• August - Brentford
• September - Sunderland
• October - Swindon
• November - Dusseldorf
• December - Kitchen Table

Most of the Australians I met on my recent holiday were brilliant people; friendly, welcoming, great company and most possessed a very British style sense of humour.

However, there was one element of my Australian experience that was slightly irritating; the tendency for people to ask questions. For example, if you ever purchased goods in a shop using a card, you were immediately greeted with 'Credit or savings ?'

Another fine example was the following exchange one early morning at Brisbane airport where I attempted the seemingly simply task of purchasing four hot drinks as we waited for a short flight to Hamilton Island.

'Good morning - Aaaahhh yaaah gaawwnn ?'

'Good morning. Well, we're going to Hamilton Island for three days. It should be fantastic.'

'Naah - I said 'How are you going ?'

'We're flying - how do you think we're getting there - kayaking ? Plus, we're in an airport. That's a rather obvious clue.'

'No worries. What can I git yer ?'

'A tea, a coffee and two hot chocolates, please.'

'What sort of tea ?

'Err - what have you got ?'

'Green Tea, Liptons Tea, Earl Grey, Camomile Tea, English Breakfast, Iced Tea, Ass...'

'English Breakfast would be great. Thanks.'

'What size tea ?'

What sizes are there ?

'Small, regular, large.'

'OK - small please. Thanks.'

'What else did you want ?'

A coffee and two hot chocolates, please.'

'What sort of coffee ?'

'What have you got ?'

'Flat white, latte, mocha, frapp...'

'Oh Latte, please.'

'What size latte ?'

'Small, please.'

'What else did you say again ?'

'Just two hot chocolates please, Two small hot chocolates, please. That's all thanks.'

'Do you want sprinkles ?'

Now this question threw me a little. I looked back towards where the family were sitting at Gate 3. I saw much tapping of fingers, much looking at watches and much feigning of dying of thirst.

Inevitably, Norma was busy doing what she does best whenever she is located in an airport - busy reviewing the shopping facilities ready to conquer the world with her very own, embryonic 'Worldwide airport shopping and duty free outlets' blog.

Worse, one of the people who had requested a hot chocolate was also doing what she does best whenever she is located in an airport terminal - busy reviewing the toilet facilities ready to conquer the world with her very own 'People who have visited the toilets at Brisbane airport (domestic terminal just outside gate 7)' group on Facebook.

Now I had to think quickly, very quickly. People behind me were sighing and saying 'Ah, mate, just get a bloody move on , will ya ?' in a very un-British way.

I gestured frantically to Norman Junior III, sprinkling fictitious sprinkles over a fictitious hot chocolate drink and raising my thumb up, smiling then turning my thumb down, frowning.

He looked rather quizzically and mouthed 'She's in the shop'. I re-doubled my efforts and repeated my sprinkling gestures.

He looked rather quizzically and mouthed 'She's in the toilet.'

I gave up my charades, ignored the laughter behind me and turned back to the assistant.

'Yes please. Sprinkles on both.'

'Marshmallows ?'

'Sorry ?'

'Marshmallows ? Do you want marshmallows on the hot chocolates ?'

By now, I was feeling I was the victim of some cruel joke and an Aussie version of Jeremy Beadle was going to jump out clutching a microphone. Either that or I was taking part in the Two Ronnies' legendary 'Fork Candles' sketch.

This endless interrogation was getting ridiculous but I resumed my mime act and frantically tried to get a response from Norman Junior III.

I decided to re-enact the famous scene from Ghostbusters where Marshmallow man strides all over the New York skyscrapers but he just looked quizzically and mouthed 'Can I have a muffin ?'

'Yes please. Marshmallows on both hot chocolates.'

'Is that all, mate ?'

'Yes.'

'Would you like me to go over your order ?'

'Well, no - I'd rather you got on and dispensed the drinks as my flight will be boarding soon' but I contented myself with 'Yes, please.'

'So, you want small latte, small English Breakfast, two small hot chocolates with sprinkles and marshmallows ?'

'Yes, yes - that's correct. Thanks.'

'Can I get anything else for you today ?'

'No thanks. That's all.'

'And how are you going to be paying today ?'

I briefly about offering plastic but quickly find $20 to avoid the inevitable 'Cheque or savings' interrogation.

Finally, the torture is over. I wait in the line for five minutes and the drinks are finally served. I grab the drinks and am looking around for a plastic stirrer.

'Are you the guy who asked for 'Small' ?'

'Err, yes.'

'Didn't you realise we don't do 'Small' any more - since July 25th, in fact ?'

'Err, no - I just ordered four hot drinks.'

'Yeah, well Eileen should have told ya. It's Regular or Large now. Only. No Small any more.'

By now, I'd had enough. I decided to turn the tables.

'Have you got a tray, please ?'

'Listen, I've given you four Regulars but I've only charged you for four Smalls.'

'Oh - that really is most kind. How can I ever thank you enough ?'

'Full sized tray or cardboard holder ?'

Memories of the annual summer vacation are now fading, the digital photos have been rationalised and printed, the video footage remains on the camcorder (thankfully) and the entries for 'Holiday Highlights' have now been received and short-listed.

Norma - 'So many memories. Catching up with friends and family, the climate, the lifestyle, The awesome scenery of the Bungle Bungles, the idyll that is Hamilton Island, sailing to Freemantle, cuddling a Koala, the endless miles of white sand and blue sky at Cable Beach.'

Norman - 'When Norma spotted the first kangaroo in the wild but couldn't tell anyone because she was squatting down in the bush, having a pee.'

Norman Junior III - 'When we were having that lovely Aussie sing-song on the 4x4 truck, we ran out of songs and there was a brief silence until Dad piped up with 'Maybe it's because I'm a Londoner.'

Norma Jeane - 'Free Internet access and those little drawers where you can charge cameras, phones and iPods at Singapore airport.'

Auntie Vera - 'When Norma mounted the kerb while driving the beach buggy on Hamilton Island. And nearly ran that lady over.

As we meandered our way through Western Australia, we took a taxi from the rather mediocre accommodation provided by Ocean Lodge to Broome airport to fly back home via Darwin.

As we turned a corner on a deserted road, an Aboriginal woman and her daughter crossed the road in front of us. They looked up before crossing and walked quickly across the road towards a school. It would have been courteous for the taxi driver to have slowed down but he maintained his speed and turned to me in the passenger seat:

'Damn - missed 'em. Maybe next time, eh ?'

I simply couldn't believe my ears. I looked at the driver's smiling face and replied:

'Still - they were here first, weren't they ?'

An awkward silence followed. I could feel my wife's eyes drilling into the back of my head and even the children looked a little uncomfortable at the chilly atmosphere.

Cogs slowly turned. The driver paused and then retorted:

'Yeah - they were here first alright but that doesn't mean they should get an allowance to keep four dogs though.'

I'd dearly love to end the story with how I pointedly waited for the racist, ignorant taxi driver to slowly and laboriously count out every last 10 cents of my change for a $12.20 fare.

But I didn't - I gave him $15, grabbed our four heavy bags from the boot and got out of that cab as fast as I possibly could.

Of course, unfortunately, there is another less attractive side to Aboriginal culture.

When I last visited Australia in 1990, we took a flight to Alice Springs. Back then, Uluru was more commonly known as Ayers Rock and people were freely able to climb the massive sandstone rock. I used to be quite proud of the fact that I had scaled Ayers Rock and written: 'Nice view, bit busy, could use an ice-cream stall' in a tatty visitors book on the summit. Now the rock has subsequently and rightfully been returned to the local Aboriginal communities who view it as a sacred site, I am almost ashamed of the fact.

Twenty years ago, en-route to Alice Springs we saw small groups of Aboriginals congregating in dry creeks, drinking and obviously under the influence of alcohol and we heard that sometimes, they perished when the rains came and the creeks flooded. On this visit, we also saw small clusters of Aboriginals on parkland, sitting, chatting, drinking and occasionally shouting and arguing.

Now this behaviour can be (understandably) intimidating to tourists but to be honest, I walked straight past and the Aboriginals didn't pass me a second glance. They didn't speak to me, they didn't harangue me, they didn't ask me for money. In fact, I've had more hassle off beggars in the South Bank underpass at Waterloo station in London.

It was as if we simply didn't exist and in many ways, I suspect they probably wish we didn't. Not in their country anyway.

In the last week of the great Australian adventure, we took a guided tour from Kununurra to Broome, in a 4x4 truck, visiting Purnululu National Park and the Bungle Bungles.

The scenery was fantastic, the company was great and our guide was interesting, professional, humorous and knowledgeable.

One day, we also took another boat trip and a bushwalk at Fitzroy Crossing with an Aboriginal guide.

The Aboriginal guide was fascinating. He talked about Aboriginal culture, the importance of Dreamtime, respect for the environment, respect for each other, how Aboriginals lived off the land for 40,000 years, the extended kinship model, the need to take just what you want and not what you need. In fact, there are so many areas we could learn from the Aboriginal culture.

At night, we were able to gaze up into a beautiful, dark, crystal clear sky. I was amazed to be able to clearly see the Milky Way, Venus and identify various constellations in the night sky. Then one of my new found Aussie friends broke the silence with a statement that staggered me and made me pause for thought:

'Of course, the Aborigines don't look at the stars. They look at the spaces between the stars.'

I passed through many customs, immigration and security checks at various Australian airports in the last three weeks.

Each airport has its own variant on a dire warning that reads:

'Flippant, amusing or sarcastic remarks will not be tolerated. Offenders may be subject to a $500,000 fine and/or 10 years in jail'.

Of course, we didn't tell Norman Junior III that. My - how we all laughed when he followed our advice and proudly (and loudly) announced to the customs official at Brisbane airport.

'I have nothing to declare but my genius.'

Im not a big fan of zoos but in Brisbane, we visited Australia Zoo as it had beenrecommended by a few people. Also, we were keen to see some native Australian wildlife during our stay.

I also assumed that Steve Irwin would ensure that the animals were kept in a natural and humane environment. We all enjoyed the day out. We saw crocodiles snapping at a white bucket, the kids fed pellets to kangaroos and wallabies and we cuddled sleepy koalas. We also saw dingos, echidnas, possums, macaws, snakes, wombats, turtles, tigers and the world famous Australian elephant (shurely shome mistake here - Ed).

However, although all the animals looked healthy with large, open pens and appeared to be deliriously happy, I was left with a slight feeling of unease about my experience at Australia Zoo. The image of Steve Irwin aka 'Crocodile Hunter', who took over management of the zoo from a small wildlife park created by his father, was plastered everywhere. Irwin died in 2006 after being attacked by a stingray while filming on the Great Barrier Reef.

Now, obviously, the Irwin family own the zoo and are perfectly entitled to use the image of Steve Irwin as much as they like and I have no doubt that every single picture of Irwin's smiling face together with his catch phrase of 'CRIKEY' has been approved by his widow, Terri and probably existed prior to Irwin's death.

However, I find it a little unsettling that Terri Irwin is also now using her two children, Bindi and Robert (Bobby), whose faces also appear in videos, posters, billboard adverts and promotions liberally scattered around the zoo.