Once, I got invited to a party I didn’t particularly want to attend. I got out of it by saying ‘I’ll be in Europe that weekend’.I actually spent the weekend mowing my lawn, and doing some odd jobs around the garden. But, I wasn’t lying … I was in Europe that weekend; it was just that my would-be host assumed I meant mainland Europe?

But, where, actually, is Europe? Is Iceland in Europe? What about Turkey? They’ve applied to join the EU, but the greater part of the country is in Asia. Or, let’s take the Dodecanese Islands. Geographically, they’re in Asia, but politically, they’re part of Greece, and therefore in Europe.

It’s the same with other continents, though. I’ve had articles about Egypt regularly filed under ‘Middle East’. And, one book I read postulated that the divide between Africa and Asia should be the Arabian Gulf, not the Red Sea.

The editors of European Journal and hidden europe both tell me they regularly receive pitches for articles about Jordan, Egypt, Morocco and even, once, the United States, so it would seem that some people have a very vague idea of where Europe is.

And, what brought this on? Believe it or not, my insurance company! I tried to buy travel insurance for my upcoming trip to Tunisia, and was told the European policy I already had would be sufficient.

Last time I looked at a map, Tunisia was in Africa, I said.

But, the insurance people were adamant. As far as they were concerned, ‘Europe’ was all EU countries, Switzerland and all countries bordering the Mediterranean! No wonder there’s some confusion.

However, they tell me that, from where we’ll be staying, you can see the island of Lampedusa … which is a part of Italy. So, maybe just being able to see Europe qualifies?

The market town of Ulverston, in Cumbria is the birthplace of two famous people. The first is Sir John Barrow, who served as Second Secretary to the Admiralty from 1804 to 1845, and is best known for his official report on the Mutiny on the Bounty.

 Indeed, I think that, if the film-makers had paid more attention to Barrow’s work, and less to that of Nordhoff and Hall, a far more accurate picture would have emerged.

 The second was born Arthur Stanley Jefferson, better known as Stan Laurel, the put-upon half of the Laurel and Hardy duo.

 Another thing the town is remarkable for is the Ulverston Canal. That is reputed to be the shortest, straightest and deepest canal in Britain. It was cut between 1803 and 1806, designed to bring shipping into Ulverston itself, about a mile from the sea. Ships up to 100 feet long and 27 feet wide could be accommodated, and they’d be hauled up to Canal Head by heavy horses.

 In the mid 1850s the railway came to Ulverston, and largely replaced the shipping trade. In fact, a now-disused branch line to the pharmaceutical factory at Glaxo Smith Klein crossed the canal at a height of only a few feet, barring it to all but the smallest boats. However, Glaxo Smith Klein have taken upon themselves the maintenance of the canal as a recreational facility, and many people like to walk along its towpath.

 The walk couldn’t really be called beautiful. There’s too much remaining of former industry on the western bank … I’d say it has a long way to go before it can be claimed as another ‘Venice of the North’. But, it does raise the question … wouldn’t it have been cheaper to move Ulverston closer to the sea?

Someone asked me when voting started for the ‘Travvies’ awards … I found it’s not voting as such that will decide the winners, but a selected panel of judges.

However, I’ve also been nominated for the one of the ‘Best of Blog’ awards.

These are especially designed to bring attention to lower profile bloggers, They are taking nominations in over 20 different categories. To find out how to nominate one of your favourite blogs,  visit http://www.thebestofblogs.com. Voting begins May 5th, so pass this on to anyone you think may be interested.

Also, I’ve been neglecting my Flickr pages somewhat lately; I just posted some of my best Australia photographs at http://www.flickr.com/photos/31258795@N00/

 

I wonder if there’s any reasoning to the fact that things seem to happen in threes?

Last weekend, the microwave packed up … no great sweat, it was twenty years old, if it was a day. Then, the car started running rough … again, no drama, as it’s still under the manufacturer’s guarantee. The worst part was waiting for the third event to happen. Would it be something vital? Was it going to cost? Finally, yesterday, the lawnmower started giving off gouts of smoke before it stopped short, never to go again, as the song goes.

Don’t worry, I said; it’s still under guarantee … I think! Wouldn’t you know it, the guarantee ran out last month! Oh, well!

But, good things happen in threes, too. I’ve had pieces accepted in three places on the Web. One’s already up, about the gorges of Crete, at http://www.europeanjournal.de/index.php?area=1&p=news&newsid=39&PHPSESSID=15858d971527081614f111d51d572256 … I’ll let you know the URLs of the other two, in Travel Thru History and Off-Beat Travel as soon as they’re posted.

 And, there’s also something about the gorges of Crete in my latest podcast at http://travelrat.podbean.com/2008/04/03/the-imbros-gorge

When I blogged about Australian beer last week, I neglected to mention the excellent beer brewed by a micro-brewery in the hills behind Adelaide, which we visited in 2006.

It’s near Hahndorf, a village which was established by German settlers in the 19^th Century, and has the reputation of being ‘more German than Germany’. It’s best known as the home of the painter Sir Hans Heysen, and a lot of the place is given over to art galleries … we came away with two prints for the sitting room wall.

On the outskirts of the village stands ‘Grumpy’s Brewhaus’ … a brewery and bar in an old farm house, with the name writ large on the corrugated iron roof. We called in; I wanted some souvenirs … beer mats, a few bottles of ‘Grumpy’s’, whatever.

Unfortunately, all they had was tasting notes (although, according to their website, you can now buy baseball caps) and they only sold their beer by the barrel. The only other way the beer was going to leave was inside me! And, I couldn’t have too much; Mr. Hertz and the South Australian Police might have taken exception.

There’s quite a range of beers on offer. Some are based on German beers; some on British and some on American pre-prohibition brews. Or, their ‘Goldrush’; a steam lager much favoured by German migrants during the California Gold Rush.

Restricted to half a pint, I chose the beer with the lowest ABV … ‘Red Baron’, at 3.4%. It’s said to be based on the Scottish McEwen’s ‘Eighty Shilling’ … and that’s long been one of my favourites!

Grumpy’s is at www.grumpys.com.au

When I lived in the area, more years ago than I care to remember, we used to rate Grange-over-Sands as a sort of Bournemouth of the north. A place where the middle classes of the north-west chose to retire; not at all for ‘the likes of us’. I did have to go there once, when I was about fourteen years old.

 ‘What about your dinner?’ I was asked

 ‘I’ll get some fish and chips’ I said.

 

 Shock! Horror! A place like Grange wouldn’t have anything so vulgar as a fish-and-chip shop! said several people. Actually, there was … but it was closed. However, I did get to eat, and was highly amused to hear the waitress saying ‘scone’ to rhyme with ‘stone’ rather than ‘one’

 But, either the place has changed, or I’m being vastly unfair to it. (All right, I’m being unfair to Bournemouth, too!) Not physically changed; my father says he knows of nowhere else that has changed so little since he was a lad.

 The gardens are still there, and the ornamental ponds which are home to several species of duck and water-fowl. And, there’s an extensive promenade to walk along, with views of the Kent Estuary and Morecambe Bay. A slightly incongruous note, though … where you’d expect to see sea or sand, you see grass! That grass isn’t for walking on, though! Out there, there are quicksands, rapid tides and fast-flowing currents. The Kent Estuary bites, often and fatally!

 You can cross it, but only at certain times, in the company of an experienced and qualified ‘sand pilot’.

 At the end of the promenade is the swimming pool. It used to be rather art-deco-ish, and seemed to some to be the epitome of luxury. But now, it’s deserted, forlorn and boarded up, and seems to be deteriorating rapidly.

 Close at hand, though, is a kiosk that sells superb hot chocolate … I know I’m not supposed to have it, but I’m taking the statins regularly, my cholesterol count was satisfactory last time and there was a cold wind blowing so … why not?

 

This morning, I was in the Post Office. While we were waiting for the printer to print the postal labels for my packages, I asked the assistant if it would be easier and quicker to have pre-printed labels.

‘That’s a good idea!’ she said ‘We could call them stamps!’

She explained that they had to buy the stamps, at exactly the same price I would pay for them, so there was no profit in it for them. If she printed a label, though, they would get paid for each one issued.

I wonder if I’m the only one to mourn the passing of the stamp in favour of the anonymous, faceless label? According to my grandchildren, philately, or stamp collecting is considered rather a nerdy thing to do. Whereas, when I was at sshool, we were all at it. I think it’s fair to say I learnt more geography for my stamp collection than I learnt from ‘Old Algy’ … and that’s saying something; he was damn’ good!

I knew a stamp with ‘Helvetia’ came from Switzerland; I knew Caracas was the capital of Venezuela, and I could point out Bechuanaland on a map. (Don’t try it yourself, though; it’s called Botswana now!)

You see, there’s a lot to be learnt about anywhere by studying its stamps … its flora, its fauna, its scenery, its famous people ….

Also, there’s the profit for the Post Office. Let us say it costs fifty gronks to post a letter in the Republic of Upchuk. It costs forty gronks to actually carry the letter, so the Post Office has made ten gronks profit. But, if I buy a fifty-gronk stamp, and take it home and stick it in my album, it’s all profit! Indeed, for this reason, many countries have issued stamps intended for collectors, and certainly not meant to be stuck on letters.

I don’t collect stamps any more, but I do get mail from all over the world. And, it seems such a shame to throw the stamps out. But, I don’t know anyone who collects them!

Nominations are sought for the ‘Travvies’ blog awards; you can put them in at http://www.upgradetravelbetter.com/category/travvies/

I’ve nominated ‘Viv’s World’ and ‘Egypt Sites’ … if you have a favourite travel site (not soliciting, or anything … I’ve already been nominated, anyway) hop on over, and register your pick.

1. Language classes are usually more fun. You get to talk to each other, rather than listening to the lecturer all the time.
2. For some reason, you don’t feel such a geek wearing a Walkman, portable CD or MP3 player if you’re listening to language tapes.
3. You no longer suspect that waiters are saying uncomplimentary things about you. You know they are!
4. Many people are turned off by those who open a conversation by asking ‘Do you speak my language?’ The French, especially, welcome those who at least make some effort to converse in French.
5. If you come across a bunch of your compatriots acting like mooks, you can pretend to be some other nationality.
6. You get all the unexpurgated jokes in foreign movies, rather than the watered-down sub-title version.
7. Think of all the time you’ll save travelling abroad when you don’t need to seek out magazines and newspapers in your own language.
8. You can keep up with the news when away from home without having to rely on CNN.
9. You can shop anywhere, rather than confine yourself to self-service stores and supermarkets.
10. Of course! You can communicate with people who don’t speak your language!

Yesterday, I logged on to the internet, and my homepage, a news website, carried a blazing headline stating that the US was to ditch the dollar, and adopt the Euro.Good God, I thought, looking out of the window for flying pigs, Hell has just frozen over! Then, I remembered what date it was.!

At this time of year, I always remember the BBC documentary about the ‘pasta harvest’ … with film! Apparently, around Naples, they were in the habit of hanging their pasta from trees to dry it. This was once witnessed by no less a person than Mark Twain, who remained convinced for years that spaghetti grew on trees!

I think one of the first statements I heard when I got home from Australia was:

‘I bet you’re glad to get back to a decent glass of beer!’

 

Trouble is, many people think that Australians drink ice-cold possum urine and call it beer, but they couldn’t be further from the truth these days. There’s a far greater choice available to the Aussie drinker; it’s far easier to ship beer interstate than it used to be. In Sydney, you can get Coopers, from Adelaide, Little Creatures, from Fremantle, Cascade, from Tasmania, to name but three.

If you know where to look, you can even find imported Guinness, Stella Tortoise, Heineken or whatever your brew of choice … if you’re prepared to pay for it!

Now, I’m not going to stick my neck out and name my favourite Aussie beer, because, like the beer at home, the brand I’ll choose depends on the time of day, the weather, what I’m doing, what I’m eating, who I’m with …

Let’s just say, pick from Cooper’s Pale Ale, Cascade Light, James Squire Amber, Hahn Premium etc., etc.

James Squire! Now, there’s a name! He was an English publican, who had been transported for highway robbery … the Dick Turpin kind, not that practised by modern pub-keepers! Back in the pioneer days, to fill a lamentable deficiency, he produced a wheat beer, because there wasn’t any barley. He’s sometimes said to be the first person to brew beer in Australia, but he wasn’t.

That honour belongs to the Endeavour’s cook. James Cook reasoned, correctly, that beer was better for his crew than rancid water that had been in cask for years. So, he instructed his cook to brew beer, improvising with any plants he could find when his brewing supplies ran out.

That’s the last Australian entry from the ‘Trip Diary’. (Did I hear someone say ‘Thank Goodness’?) We’re off up to Cumbria next, and heading for Spain in about 3 weeks time. My grandchildren are in Rome at the moment … I hope I can persuade one of them to write about their experiences for a future ‘Guest Entry’ slot.