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We enjoyed our time in Curzon and it was nice spending time with Jacqueline and Gil. We were sure we would catch up with them in their new home when we returned to Portugal later in the year. It was also good to be back on the road again, this time in a Peugeot – more economical than the Duster but smaller so it was plain to see how much stuff we had accumulated!

Lyon is a city we had not been to before. Probably drove through it, but we had heard it was worthy of a good visit so Lyon it was. The city is shaped by its two rivers, the Rhône River (to the East) and the Saône (to the West). Linda found us a nice hotel high on the hill between the two rivers. It’s all about location, location, location!

The car park was tight but secure, so that’s where the car remained for the next three nights. It was more of a business hotel than a tourist hotel but it was very comfortable and an excellent base to explore Lyon. Our first day was a massive walk up to the Basilica of Notre-Dame de Fourviere. We read somewhere that you’d be a fool not to go there- I think what they really meant was, that you’d be a fool to climb up there if you’re over sixty! It certainly got the heart beating but once we got there it all seemed worthwhile. It provides one of the best views of the entire city.

Back down at river level we were appreciating the facades painted on the plain side of some of the buildings which Lyon is famous for. Artists have transformed some drab buildings with stunning 3D optical illusion murals. We also came across an Italian food festival with food vans set up in a square offering all sorts of Italian delicacies. We couldn’t help buying a selection of smoked meats and cheeses to take back to our hotel and indulge in.

The next day’s walk was on flatter ground, but we found ourselves so far out we decided to try the hire scooters that had become so popular in European cities. You activate them with an app on your phone and it hits your credit card for the time you use it. A bit like the oBike model in Melbourne that was abandoned due to so many bikes ending up in the Yarra River! Fortunately, people are a bit more respectful in Lyon and I’m pretty sure there are no scooters in the bottom of the Rhône. They are electrically propelled and move along quite fast. We were going to try and both get onto one scooter but wisely chose to get one each. There was potential of ending up in a Lyon hospital but the worst thing that happened was it nearly shook my fillings out on the cobblestone streets. Otherwise, it was a lot of fun. 

Lyon is a great city and we recommend it to anyone travelling through France. We needed to head for Zurich. Only a four hour drive but we wanted to take a look at Lausanne and Bern along the way, so we made lightning visits to both and arrived in Zurich the next day. Our new hosts Amanda and Will were a young American couple stationed in Zurich with their cute daughter Alexandria. They live in a fantastic apartment not far out of town, and on the lake. They were meeting relatives in ireland for a two week holiday so we were there to look after their dogs Ridley and Cooper and their cat Samus. The apartment was huge, split over two levels with a large terrace that had commanding views of the Zurichsee. Another house sit we were sure we were going to enjoy.

Cooper and Ridley were well behaved apartment dogs and enjoyed their morning walks, Samus looked after herself but was sure to let us know when it was feeding time. Once we had walked the dogs we were free to go into town and check it out. Zurich is a beautiful city and I have vague memories of when I last visited back in 1987. 

The first thing I notice about Switzerland is how expensive everything is. They still use their own currency, opting not to use the Euro. The price of coffee is my barometer of the cost of living in a city and I was bowled over when I calculated that the average cost for a cup of coffee was close to ten dollars Oz! So like Iceland, drinking coffee outside home was going to be limited. 

On our first outing into town we were walking along and Linda needed to use the toilet. I suggested we go into the Tesla Dealership we were walking past, so in we went. We asked the salesman and he kindly obliged pointing Linda towards the ladies room upstairs. While we were waiting, he asked me if I’d like a rundown on the Tesla range. As I was unfamiliar with the product and my only knowledge was that they are expensive plug-in electric cars, I thought why not? I became even more interested when he asked the receptionist to make me a coffee!

By this time Linda had returned from upstairs and we received a thorough overview of the Model 3, the Model S, and the one that appealed to us most, the Model X SUV with the gull wing rear doors. It was actually quite interesting and we were impressed with the quality and high tech features but I do question how ‘green’ they actually are. One of the points he made was how many charge stations there are around Europe. When we were next traveling on the autobahn, I noticed a Tesla charging station at a service centre we had stopped at. Upon close inspection, I noticed a large Diesel generator nestled in the bushes nearby! “So that’s how they power their charging stations,” I thought. I knew from my experience in the industry, that emission controls for generators are nowhere near as stringent as they are for Diesel powered cars (just ask Volkswagen). Therefore, Tesla’s so called ‘green’ cars can be the dirtiest of all if charged at remote charging stations! The coffee by the way, was the best I had in Switzerland – and I didn’t have to pay for it.

The city of Zurich is so picturesque, we walked around for hours. Linda found a chocolate shop, that I nearly couldn’t get her out of, and we walked around a few department stores and just laughed at the price tags. By the time we got back to the car park, our parking bill was quite expensive but it was still cheaper than coming into town on public transport, and that’s wrong! We have noticed this throughout Europe, and I think even Melbourne is guilty of it. They will never get more people using public transport if it’s cheaper to drive!

During our stay in Switzerland we did several day trips. One to Liechtenstein and Austria and another to Konstanz, just across the border into Germany to do some grocery shopping. The countryside and the alps are really like a storybook – absolutely stunning.

I couldn’t resist going to Hinwil, a town not far from where we were staying. It’s where the Sauber Formula one team are based. I was hoping to do a factory tour but they no longer do them. They did encourage however, to visit their reception area where they had a display of memorabilia including trophies and a current F1 car. They also had an espresso machine and a lounge area where you could make yourself a coffee and sit to take it all in. While I was browsing at the trophies, Linda tried to get my attention as Kimi Raikkonen, their lead driver, was at the reception desk. I was amazed that she recognised him but by the time I got to the desk to pat him on the back he had disappeared out the door. I thanked the lady at reception for their hospitality and was eager to get out the door to see if I could catch Kimi when she called me back to give us a bag of Alfa Romeo branded sweets as a souvenir. Linda was convinced it was just a quick thinking ploy on the receptionist’s part to stop me annoying their star driver. Whatever the case, I enjoyed my visit to Alfa Romeo/Sauber in Hinwil.

Amanda and Will returned from Ireland and we pointed our little Peugeot towards Lake Como in Italy  to check it out before driving to Milan where we would be flying back to Malta for a week. 

People ask us about how we get our house sits. This is the main website we use. https://www.trustedhousesitters.com/refer/RAF147238/
If you use the link above you will also get a discount on membership.
If you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask.
Enjoy.

Landing in Bordeaux almost felt like returning home. We were familiar with the airport and knew exactly where to go to get the bus and light rail into town. A far cry from almost twelve months earlier when we jumped in a cab to get to our hotel in the city and paid close to a €100 fare. We would have run out of money months ago if we kept up that frivolous spending! 

The light rail dropped us off right in front of the Mecure hotel we had booked just near the main railway station we would use the next day to head north. It was still too early to check in so we left our bags with reception and walked into town along the banks of the river. We enjoyed our time in Bordeaux last time so we were happy to just wander around getting a few things done before heading back to the hotel to have a rest before getting a train to La Rochelle the next day.

Train travel was a nice change from driving. The trains are smooth and comfortable which allows you to read while enjoying a drink. We reached our destination, about two hundred kilometers, in what seemed like no time at all.

We still had two days before we were due at Curzon so we looked up what the historic city La Rochelle had to offer and it seemed to be the perfect place to spend what turned out to be the weekend, Linda found us an apartment on the harbour right near the entrance to the old town. It was an extremely old building that had been restored very well. The creaking stairs and floorboards were testament to it being a genuine period building. I couldn’t help wondering how effective the smoke alarms were because I reckon it would flare up like a paper bag in the event of a fire!

La Rochelle was one of the greatest port cities in France. Great sailing ships laden with wine would depart from the old port for destinations around the world. Today it is a popular tourist spot with seafood restaurants lining the harbour and hundreds of visitors stroll through the old town where the architecture has been well restored. Once again, the sun gods were looking after us and we had a very enjoyable couple of days walking the maze like alleyways, checking out the local produce at the markets and treating ourselves to fresh seafood lunches.

Monday morning had arrived and we took the short train ride to Lucon, the closest town to Curzon. Gil was at the train station to meet us and after a brief visit to the supermarket, drove us to the house to be reunited with Jacqueline and the three pooches we would be looking after for the next five weeks. We enjoyed a feast of a meal with our new found friends that evening before they packed their car and headed off to Portugal the next day.

I described the property and the dogs a few blogs back but for those that need reminding, Gil and Jacqueline (sometimes affectionately known as Jack & Jill) live in a beautifully presented four hundred year old converted farmhouse which they operate a B&B out of, with their much loved dogs, Caramel – a beautifully well natured elderly cocker spaniel, Hortense- a prim and proper princess of a standard poodle and last but by no means least, Valentino – a grand, ginger, young and playful, Russian giant poodle. So, there we were, alone with our new dogs. The two females, Caramel and Hortense were an absolute dream to look after. Valentino on the other hand, was going to keep us on our toes! He was still very much a puppy – a 35kg puppy that was not aware of his own strength. He was generally well behaved but when he wanted to do something or go somewhere, there was no stopping him! Our morning walks took us through the nearby bog. Valentino would love running in the mud and one morning there must have been something in there that got his attention because there was no way he was coming out. After many failed attempts of calling I went in after him and at one stage was up to my knees in muddy slushy shit that filled my boots! By the time I got him out he was black instead of ginger and I had extremely cold soggy feet – the joys of house sitting! He really is a lovely dog and I was totally envious of the energy he had. When he ran around on our walks he would almost make the ground shake as he galloped past – quite a majestic animal.

The commune of Curzon is a quiet farming community and the town consisted of a church and a baguette machine. I love the ‘baguette machine’ – I have mentioned them before, they are vending machines that spit out a fresh crunchy baguette after you have deposited a Euro coin in the slot – only in France! Lucon is the nearest city to Curzon, about a fifteen minute drive, where we would do our shopping and visit the weekly fresh food market.

A thirty minute drive in the opposite direction would get us to the coast where we would take the dogs in the back of the station wagon and let them run free on the golden sandy beaches. 

Every Friday a van selling fresh local oysters would set up in Curzon and I became a regular, picking up a bag of un-shucked oysters each week from the friendly vendors. One time she even threw in one of those special knives – (I think she felt sorry for me because I couldn’t speak French)! Apart from the language, we were settling into this provincial French lifestyle very well indeed.

Our time in Curzon was drawing to an end. We had leased another car for six months which we were to pick up in Nantes, about an hours drive to the north. It has been pointed out that we could have bought a car with the amount we have spent on leasing but we still insist that leasing is the best way to go. As they are brand new vehicles, we were unlikely to breakdown and if we did, or had an accident, they look after everything including accommodation and a rental car if necessary. All without having to pay an excess/deductible. It really is the most convenient way to get around Europe.

Jacqueline and Gil returned from Portugal with the news that they were selling up in France and buying a house in Portugal – It must have been really a good trip! We celebrated their decision with another feast of a meal and the next day packed our (smaller than our last car) Peugeot 2008 to the ceiling to make tracks towards our next sit in Switzerland with a weekend stopover in Lyon.  We’re going to miss our Curzon babies.

People ask us about how we get our house sits. This is the main website we use. https://www.trustedhousesitters.com/refer/RAF147238/
If you use the link above you will also get a discount on membership.
If you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask.
Enjoy.

Last time we were in Portugal we regretted not going to Porto. Everyone we know that has been there raves about it. So when we found that we could fly from Morocco to Porto and then onto Bordeaux for less than we would have paid for an overland journey from Paris to Curzon it was an easy decision to forfeit our Paris flights and enjoy a week in Porto. We wanted to go to San Sebastián, on the north west coast of Spain as well but you can’t do everything at once. (Wait for another ten blogs for that one).

Our flight arrived in the evening so it made no sense to go into town. We chose to stay at a business hotel at the airport. It provided a relaxing rest, to build our energy to challenge the city in the morning, when we caught the light rail into the main railway station. Linda had booked an apartment for the first three days. It was still too early to check in so we walked around a little but quickly noticed it is extremely hilly in Porto! Too hilly to be dragging two small suitcases around. I don’t think I saw a flat bit of road in the city! So we found a restaurant near our apartment that looked inviting and settled in for a long lunch to sample some Portuguese food and wine. Our choice was excellent. A small restaurant partially submerged on a steep part of the street that offered traditional cuisine, had many old pictures of the city on the walls and a hospitable proprietor that was very proud and engaging. It was the ideal introduction to Porto.

Our new host was at the apartment to greet us and she was absolutely brilliant. Most of our hosts have been but this woman went over and above to ensure our stay was a pleasant one. The apartment was well equipped and in a central location. The icing (for lack of a better word) was the home made cake nicely presented on the kitchen table along with a carafe of home made port that was left as a welcoming gesture – we were loving this place already!

The buildings in Porto are amazing, the ceramic tile work in the main railway station was jaw dropping. The tile work is also extensively used on the exterior walls of buildings throughout the city, making for a magnificent sight. I remember being impressed with Lisbon years ago but Porto seemed to be far more impressive, maybe the brilliant sunshine we enjoyed in Porto as opposed to the stormy weather we experienced in the capital city made the difference.

For those that have been following our blog, you will remember the drama we had in Paris trying to get some documents witnessed to be sent home. Well, they hadn’t arrived and it had been several weeks. Due to the importance and urgency, we had to set out and do it all again – much to my dismay. We didn’t even bother looking for an Australian Embassy this time, having been fleeced by the one in Paris. This time we sought the services of a notary – “surely they wouldn’t charge too much in Portugal”, we thought. First of all, they didn’t accept the format of our document and drafted their own version despite our disapproval! Then they presented us with a bill for ninety five Euro – we were beginning to think it was the standard rate, or they’d been liaising with the Australian Embassy! Then Fifty Euro to post the bloody thing did nothing to make me feel better about the whole experience either. Freshly baked Portugese tarts and espresso coffee however, did the job.

With business out of the way, we set off early the next morning to have a good look around. We were blessed with another sunny day and started off by walking down to the riverside which was a hype of activity with many people strolling along the waterfront and patronising the outdoor cafes. We had no time for coffee, we were crossing the iconic ‘Dom Luis I Bridge’, the double deck steel arch bridge that spans the river Duro, to visit the port cellars, most of which were located on the other side.

We crossed on the lower deck and begun the long winding, hilly walk to ‘Taylors’ for an afternoon of Port sampling. There are so many famous brand port cellars, or Port Lodges as they are sometimes referred to. It was not possible to visit them all (at our age anyway) so we went with the advice of friends, that had visited recently, and did the antipasto platter in the lavishly landscaped terrace of Taylors while sampling several fine ports in the company of a good looking rooster (not me!!!) and a showoff peacock that thought he was pretty cool too!   

Well rested, we were ready for the long walk back to the Dom Luis I bridge to walk across the top deck this time, being careful not to be hit by one of the many trams that cross the bridge at that level. 

Just on the other side of the bridge we found a trendy bar that offered outdoor tables and served craft beer so we decided to reward ourselves for the long walk with a refreshing drink while soaking up the afternoon sun and listening to the talented buskers play nearby.

In our haste to get away early in the morning I had accidentally locked us out, so we had to call our host to meet us at the apartment. We hadn’t called her in the morning as we didn’t want to wait around, so we rang her on our way back to the apartment. She was going to be a while as she was caught up in the Sunday afternoon traffic so we were left with the choice of waiting on the street in the then cooling night or go into a wine bar across from the apartment and sample some local cheese and wine – the decision was unanimous!

Another sunny day helped make the decision to catch the the old tourist tram to the Foz district very easy. When we arrived at the tram stop there was no order as to how to line up so we just joined the group that was already waiting. It soon became obvious that we were on the wrong side but by the time the tram arrived, so many more people had joined the queue, we stood no chance of getting on if we were to change sides. We decided that we had a right to get on the tram and despite a large group of French tourists, (who had been sniggering and talking about us instead of letting us know about their system), got together in an attempt to make sure we didn’t get on- but they had completely underestimated our grit and determination,  so not only had we got on the tram (with our elbows out and a bit of pushing) we secured limited seating leaving some unimpressed passengers standing.

The coastline at Fonz do Douro was quite stunning with an angry ocean smashing huge waves onto the rocks, it was a spectacular sight. Linda must have been having flashbacks of Iceland as she was cautious as to how close she got while snapping the ferocious waves. 

A walk along the waterfront, lunch and a more comfortable ride back into town on a commuter tram made for a pleasant day out.

During our stay we enjoyed many local delicacies, dining in local eateries and fine restaurants. We even found a family run delicatessen that we kept returning to as they offered friendly service and proudly made suggestions of what we should try. The bakery on the other side of the road that produces Portuguese tarts in full view from the street was priceless. It even had a white apron clad baker walk onto the street ringing a large bell to indicate that a new batch had come out of the oven.

A thoroughly enjoyable stay and we can not wait to return to Portugal later this year where we have a house sit just outside Lisbon for six weeks. But first, we had to fly to Bordeaux and head to our next house sit in Curzon, France. 

People ask us about how we get our house sits. This is the main website we use. https://www.trustedhousesitters.com/refer/RAF147238/
If you use the link above you will also get a discount on membership.
If you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask.
Enjoy.

As mentioned earlier, we toured Morocco in 2014. It was a comprehensive tour that started in Casablanca and took us as far north as Tangier, then back to Marrakech and south to the Sahara Desert, with lightning visits to many cities in between. Including Fes, a city we really would have liked to have spent more time in.

So here we were in the arrivals hall at Fes airport late in the evening after a long day in Paris. Linda had booked us into a Riad for the week recommended by a friend that had been there recently. They had organised a car for us so we were greeted by a man holding a board with our names on it. Our riad was within the walled Medina, which meant our driver had to drop us off at the edge of the old town where we were met by a ‘hired hand’ to guide us through the maze like alleys to our accommodation. A Riad is a traditional large Moroccan house with a central courtyard and many rooms over different levels facing the courtyard. Riads were the stately city homes of the wealthiest citizens such as merchants and courtiers. Many of them these days are converted to accommodate tourists but are quite often still owned by the families that have had them for generations. Sometimes managed by ‘hired help’ but often run and staffed by family members themselves. Our guide rattled the large cast iron knocker on the front door softly as it was after midnight by the time we got there. An old lady answered the door and she either didn’t speak English or just didn’t want to speak at all as it appeared that she had been woken up. We were shown to our room on the third floor via a narrow solid stone spiraling stairway. We had no trouble at all getting to sleep that night.

The weather in Fes for February is nice and sunny during the day with temperatures in the mid to high twenties but the evenings get very low. Unlike the buildings in Iceland, the riads are not heated that well and can get bloody cold, especially in the mornings when our breakfast is served in the courtyard: Semolina pancakes, fresh bread, a selection of olives and a pot of coffee is the typical feast.

With a good feed and coffee in our bellies we set off to explore the maze-like alleyways and take in all that this buzzing Moroccan city had to offer. It’s ‘eyes wide open’ everywhere you walk. People in traditional dress, donkeys towing carts and traders peddling all sorts of stuff. If it wasn’t for the tourists it would have seemed you had gone back in time by hundreds of years. And good for them for maintaining their tradition while accommodating the tourists without making the whole experience seem fake. We have enjoyed some incredible experiences in this country and feel completely safe and comfortable amongst the Moroccans who are most welcoming. It bothers us that some people still have the misconception that Morocco is an unsafe place to be. Yes, there was a nasty incident last year that attracted world headlines but that was very much an isolated attack and there are many, much more heinous atrocities in so called ‘first world countries’.

On a brighter note, we withdrew a wad of Dirham from the ATM and chose a restaurant that offered outdoor dining, and watched people go about their daily lives while spotting tourists and guessing where they were from. We have become quite good at it and entertain ourselves with the silly game wherever we go. Fes was perfect because it attracts people from all corners of the globe.

The following day our riad host had organised a tour guide to take us into the depths of the Medina. I’m generally not keen on doing the guided tour thing but it is highly recommended in Fes as it is very easy to become disoriented and lost in the sprawling network of alleyways. There is a story going around about a Canadian woman who tried to go it alone in the old town and went missing about ten years ago. The myth has it that she now has six children and is well settled in the Medina!

Our tour guide for the morning was Ahmad. A large middle aged man that spoke good English in a bellowing voice and was obviously well known in the city as many passing people acknowledged him, some wanting to stop for a chat. That became a little annoying after awhile but not as much as being dragged into carpet, leather, jewellry, Argan oil and other retail stores that were very good friends of his and promised to ‘make us very good price’! We were not in the slightest bit interested in buying any of the above- We bought a rug on our last visit and had to lug it around Europe before posting it home. I had one carpet salesman give up on me as I turned the conversation around and tried to sell him our rug. “I can post it to you, no problem,” I said.

Apart from the liberty he took to expose us to his trading ‘friends’ he was an informative guide and took us to some areas, particularly the fresh food markets, that we may not have otherwise found. I am sure we paid more than the normal for his services because he certainly didn’t earn any ‘kickbacks’ that morning. We parted company with Ahmad at lunchtime and proceeded to find our own restaurant. Not one that Ahmad, or any of the up and coming tour guides, offered to guide us to as the ‘best’ restaurant in town. 

After lunch Linda set about finding an Argan oil store that she bought some oil from in 2014. ‘You have got to be kidding’, I thought. It would be no easier than finding a needle in a haystack in the myriad of alleyways that all looked the same. Even google maps can’t navigate itself around this place. But like a hound she took the lead and turned left, turned right a dozen times in no particular order and bugger me, there it was, just as we left it five years ago! I had a photo of her outside the shop from our last visit and that became photographic proof that it was in fact the same shop.

A visit to Morocco would not be complete without treating yourself to a massage at one of the many Hammam in town. Once again we went with the advice of our riad host and they even provided an old guy to guide us there and he waited until we were done to guide us back. Sort of like a taxi service without a car!

Another day was spent in the newer part of town where I had organised a dental appointment to repair a damaged filling. The taxi had got us there without drama and even though the dentist was supposed to speak English, it was limited. His French was very good but that didn’t help me! I was successfully given two fillings and charged a grand total of 530 Dirham, about AUD$80! Can’t complain about that!

We enjoyed our time in Fes. It was a relaxing visit after a busy tour of Iceland. We had return tickets to Paris but opted to forfeit them and bought tickets to Porto in Portugal, as we still had a little time before starting our house sit in Curzon France. Our flight was via Seville in Spain so we took a gamble on the flight being on time as it was a tight turnaround and Ryanair don’t guarantee to make connections- even though it is with the same airline! ‘Fly or cry’ they call it. Fortunately, it ran like clockwork. We even had time for some tapas in Seville before arriving in Porto about mid evening as planned.

Join us in Portugal next week. We are sure you will enjoy it.

People ask us about how we get our house sits. This is the main website we use. https://www.trustedhousesitters.com/refer/RAF147238/
If you use the link above you will also get a discount on membership.
If you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask.
Enjoy.

Our flight arrived at Charles de Gaulle early in the afternoon. Enough time to get to the Australian Embassy. We needed a document witnessed for a business transaction back home so we figured the easiest way to achieve that would be to go somewhere where it would be easy to be understood and where there would be an appropriate person that fits the criteria of signing the document. We did have to make an appointment and we were about five minutes late. Normally it would not have been a problem but it interfered with their afternoon ‘Le Siest’! We had a hell of a time getting past the French building security guard, but managed to get him to contact someone from the embassy. Once we had an Aussie on the phone we were able to convince him to let us up, and he begrudgingly did so.

It was so comfortable talking to an Australian having been away for so long and he understood exactly what we needed. “There will be a standard charge of ninety three Euro”, he explained to us. “Are you for real”, I found myself exclaiming.  I was absolutely furious and told him they were a bunch of ‘thieving bastards’ and that I had been warned to watch my back in Paris but I never expected to be fleeced by the Australian Consulate. He did apologize and did the whole ‘It’s a standard charge and I can’t do anything about it’ thing. We were backed into a corner and needed to get the docs back to Australia urgently so we reluctantly paid.

We walked out of the building, still with our luggage in tow, around the corner to our hotel feeling violated. This time we were staying on the other side of the river in an old style (tiny) Parisian hotel on the Boulevard de Grenelle, close to the Eiffel Tower. After checking in we walked down the road to post our documents and then found a really nice traditional restaurant that was very busy, with what appeared to be business lunches that had gone long into the afternoon. Just what we needed to put the embassy episode behind us.

When we got back to the hotel Linda was exhausted and chose to have a quiet night in so I went for a walk along the river to the tower. I was shocked to see the base of the tower has now got an ugly heavily secure glass wall around it and is only accessible to those paying to do the tower tour. It’s such a shame the levels they have to take for security these days but I guess it’s the age we live in. I got sick of being approached with offers to buy mini plastic Eiffel Towers (which were apparently being sold at a bargain price!) and headed back to the hotel.

We had a full day in Paris so we checked out early, stored our bags at reception and headed off to the other side of town where Linda wanted to replace her ‘salt water’ camera. We bought a couple of day tickets from the Metro station nearby and Linda had accidentally gone through the gate normally reserved for wheelchairs. The woman that sold us the tickets saw what had happen and waved us through. As we were exiting the station at the other end we were confronted by a gang of ticket inspectors. Linda’s ticket scanned ok but my ticket wasn’t validated as I had followed Linda through the gate at the other end. “Your ticket is not validated” the smug inspector said. “That’s right,” I said and told him what had happened. He wasn’t having any of it and even smugly-er said “I am writing you a thirty five Euro ticket” I tried to reason with him and told him that the woman at the other end had seen what had happened and waved us through. We could see that he wasn’t going to budge. He was the epitome of the arrogant Parisian, which until now we hadn’t met on this visit (most of them were very good) I was buggered if I was going to pay a fine when I had bought a ticket but he wasn’t going to give an inch so I did what I had to- I hit the deck! He didn’t buy it for a moment but the women in the group panicked and convinced him to let me go. Linda somehow knew my intention and didn’t panic. I did hear him saying to her as I was getting up “Your husband is a very good actor”, I did want to keep the banter going but Linda sternly said through the side of her mouth “Shut up, they’re letting us off, let’s get the hell out of here”.

We welcomed the fresh air and walked the length of the Boulevard Beaumarchais which is the ‘camera street’ of Paris. All the best camera shops are there and I think we walked into each one of them. Linda knew exactly what she wanted but we were offered all sorts of different deals. Some with trade in, some duty free, some with this lens, some with that lens and it all started to get a bit confusing. We ran into the ‘Le Siest’ closure so we had to fill in time until the shops reopened. We took the advice of one of the camera shop proprietors and went to their regular restaurant. It was crazy busy and we recognized some of the many people we had been negotiating with. It was a little awkward but thankfully no one approached and spruiked us while we were eating. Lunch was good and we went back to the guy we trusted most. He suggested that the camera was still ok and it was just the lens that was damaged so we bought a new lens from him which would keep us going till we could replace the body when we had more time.

With that sorted we could enjoy the remainder of the afternoon. We were not keen on riding the Metro again even though we had tickets. Google maps told us it was about a six kilometre walk back to the hotel along the river. “Perfect” we thought, we had the time so off we went. It was a nice afternoon, a little chilly but ideal for walking. Our walk took us right past the Notre Dame Cathedral so we took the opportunity to take a selfie, similar to one we had taken several years earlier (It was to become all the more special when we heard the shocking news of the fire some weeks later).

We continued to walk along the river to the ever increasing noise of emergency sirens and heavy police presence. As we walked closer toward the Eiffel Tower the roadway of the Quai Anatole France was completely lined by heavily armed riot vehicles and the blaring sirens were deafening.

We got chatting to a local woman who had come out of her riverside apartment to observe the commotion and she was explaining that the ‘yellow vests’ were up to their shenanigans again and that the city’s traffic was complete chaos. We suddenly realized that we had to get a bus to Beauvais Airport, about an hours drive to the north so we hurriedly walked back to the hotel to collect our bags and head for the airport hoping we were not going to get caught up in traffic.

Fortunately, we dodged it all and got to the airport in time for our flight to Fez.

See you all in Morocco 

People ask us about how we get our house sits. This is the main website we use. https://www.trustedhousesitters.com/refer/RAF147238/
If you use the link above you will also get a discount on membership.
If you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask.
Enjoy.

With a bag full of freshly laundered clothes and feeling nicely relaxed from our first sub-zero hot tub experience, we set off to do some sight-seeing. Our first stop was the Gullfoss Waterfall. When we pulled up in the car park it was blowing a gale and the car was telling us it was minus 18C so we went the full, dual jacket, scarves and beanie set up. After the initial walk I opted out of the second longer one as my fingers, despite wearing thermal gloves, were freezing to the point I was in excruciating pain. My body was not built for the cold – my circulation must be atrocious. I waited in the comfort of the souvenir/cafe while Linda did the second part solo and apparently, nearly got blown off the cliff into the river when she slipped on the icy path! It was ridiculously windy. I entertained myself sat by the window watching everyone returning from their walk exhausted and stumbling as if returning from a three day expedition.

A short way down the road was the Strokkur and Haukadalslaug Hot Pot, the popular Geysers that erupt periodically. It reminded me of the time we went to see ‘Old Faithful’ at Yellowstone National Park. Every time you look down to adjust your camera or get distracted by something, the bloody thing goes off! It also has that strong Sulfur ‘fart’ smell that is reminiscent of Rotorua as well.

We made a right dog’s breakfast of our route planning. Maybe because I didn’t have a big fold out map! Our first couple of days were to the south east of Reykjavik but we wanted to see the lava caves which were to the north west of the island. So we had to do what I hate doing – back tracking! It was a long drive back towards Reykjavik and across a very long tunnel under the Greenland Sea towards Borgarnes where we stayed the night in a nice hotel that featured a hot tub and a sauna.

Another thing that caught me out about Iceland was the alcohol situation. I was expecting it to be expensive but I didn’t realize it would be so hard to get. We had become so used to Europe where you could buy grog from just about any corner store but in Iceland, it is only available from highly regulated government run liquor stores with limited opening hours. Prohibition had been in effect in Iceland from 1915. The ban on wine and spirits were lifted after just a few decades but the ban on beer lasted right up until the 1 March 1989! (and I love how they celebrate this date as ‘Beer Day’) So, after a long days drive, we felt we deserved a drink and found ourselves a liquor store.

We were disappointed, but not surprised, that there was no fridge in our hotel room so I filled the waste paper basket with snow and placed it outside to cool our drinks. Linda had ventured out late in the evening to see if she could see the lights. She was gone so long I went out to find her. She was busily snapping pictures of what looked like a normal black sky to me. “I can’t see anything,” I said. Linda explained that I had to look through the camera and showed me the screen where I could see a faint green streak. “Is that it?” I snapped. “We could have looked at it on the friggin internet instead of travelling all the way here if you can only see it thru the camera,” I moaned.

The lava cave tour the next morning was interesting and it was nice just to escape the blizzard conditions above. We all wore miner type helmets and were equipped with torches to decend deep into the cave. The lava field was formed over 1100 years ago, during the Viking age. I was expecting an appearance from ‘Hagar the Horrible’, but it didn’t happen so it was back in the car for the drive back to Borgarnes where we had booked an apartment this time, and cooked our own dinner.

After shoveling a huge layer of snow off the car early in the morning we headed back to the south coast to continue our trip in an easterly direction. We made it to our hotel which was a short distance to the Skogafoss waterfalls. After checking in we walked to the falls and, as it was a mild afternoon, we tackled the enormous staircase that took us near the top of the cliff that provided a great look at the falls, and a distant view of the coast line. When we returned to our room I reached out our window to retrieve a beer I had buried in the snow earlier and as I fished around I could feel a package. It took a bit of digging but when I brought it up I was ecstatic to see it was a full six pack of Stella Artois still in its shrink wrap! What a catch. Some unfortunate soul obviously had a similar idea to mine but forgot about their stash. Happy days!

We started the next day with a hearty breakfast because our first stop for the day was going to be the infamous Reynisfjara beach to view the basalt rock formations. The most noticeable feature of the beach was the jet black coarse sand. It is also the site of the deadly ‘sneaker waves’. The waves were large, it is the Atlantic Ocean after all, but they were not really travelling up the beach very far, so we were beginning to think the whole ‘sneaker wave’ thing was a bit of over hype. That is of course until we heard some loud screaming and noticed everyone running towards the car park. I looked towards the water and saw a tsunami like wave approaching us. It didn’t appear aggressive but it was a no nonsense forward flow that started pushing me along. Linda was actually behind me and closer to dry land but she lost her footing and started tumbling in the whitewash like she was in the rinse cycle of a washing machine, all the time trying to hold her SLR camera as high above her head as she could. I managed to scoop her up but the damage had been done. Our snow boots were full of water and black sand. While I was more interested in changing into dry clothes Linda ran to the toilet to rinse and dry her camera but it was all in vain as it seemed its condition was terminal.

We drove ourselves to the nearest hotel and chanced a ‘walk in’. It turned out to be a good choice and the staff were outstanding, being sympathetic to our misfortune allowing us to check in early and offering to dry out our soggy boots (I’m sure we weren’t the first guests to arrive looking like a couple of drowned rats) At least I had a Stella to wash the sand down with.

We didn’t capture the incident on the day but if you want an idea of how this beach catches people out, take a look at this YouTube link. 

All dried out the next morning we traveled further west to the Jokulsarlon glacial lagoon where Linda wanted to do a tour of the glacier caves. I wasn’t excited about paying to effectively walk in a deep freezer. I was happy to walk around the lagoon watching the icebergs float through and ultimately into the ocean. Linda joined a small group and climbed on what looked like a 4WD on steroids to trek through deep snow to the glacier caves. They were late returning but fortunately there was an enclosed kiosk where I waited and overdosed on caffeine. Apparently they had become bogged in the deep snow in the middle of nowhere and were stranded until they were towed out by another passing tour group. Linda enjoyed the caves regardless even though she was only able to photograph it on her phone!

After 40mins of waiting in the middle of nowhere, we finally got rescued (although there were a few moments where we thought it was all going to go wrong!)

Before we left the area we drove to the beach to have a close look at the icebergs that washed up on the sand. Linda, understandably, was a little gun shy at first but the sight of the clear glass like rocks on the beach was mesmerizing. Absolutely amazing and like nothing we had seen before.

We began the drive back towards Reykjavik and just as I felt we had done enough driving for the day we noticed a truck on the road ahead. I was difficult to see as we had the late afternoon sun in our eyes but it appeared to be stationary. To the left of the truck, off the road was a car on its roof with its lights still on. We passed the truck slowly and cautiously and I noticed the license plates of the upturned car were local and not those of a rental car. We had seen a number of cars off the road in our travels but all of them had rental plates. This had really put the shits up me as I thought “if a local can go off on a straight bit of road, there’s a better chance of me going off”. Once passed the truck we noticed the occupants of the overturned car were safely in the truck and the driver indicated that all was ok so we continued on our way and eventually enjoyed a nice meal in the restaurant of our hotel in Kirkjubaejarklaustur.

Our second last night’s stay was a cabin in a campground just out of Selfoss. Most accommodation houses ask when we are checking in, if we want to be woken if the Northern Lights appeared. We got a knock on our door at about 11PM, it was the proprietor telling us there was a good light show. So we rugged up and went outside. It was, I must confess, the best, clearest, most colourful viewing we had experienced in the time we were there. I admitted it was truly amazing, and took back my earlier criticism. There was a young guy there that had traveled from the United States for a two night stay and got to view the spectacular show with us – how lucky was he!?

Sadly the best pics I could get on my phone

For our last night we had booked a hotel near the airport so we could visit the ‘Blue Lagoon’, the popular thermal pools that people travel to from all around the world- some just making the short trip from the airport to have a soak and not go anywhere else in Iceland. It was another of those overpriced attractions I was not excited about getting involved in but I was convinced that you can’t visit Iceland without going to the Blue Lagoon. It certainly was a massive complex and it was crowded. We chose not to tick the deluxe option which provided robes and sandals because they wanted stupid money for it on top of what I thought was an offensive entrance fee but when we entered there was a pile of fresh robes and a box of sandals that everyone seemed to be helping themselves too, so we did as well! I guess they figure that everyone opts for the deluxe package! It was an enjoyable evening anyway, drinking at the swim up bar while soaking in hot water and relaxing in the steam room.

A good way to end our time in Iceland and rest before our flight back to Paris.

People ask us about how we get our house sits. This is the main website we use. https://www.trustedhousesitters.com/refer/RAF147238/
If you use the link above you will also get a discount on membership.
If you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask.
Enjoy.

Iceland, as the name suggests, is cold. The coldest time of the year in one of the coldest countries, is January. So why have we chosen this time to visit? Apparently it’s the best time to view the Northern Lights, otherwise known as ‘Aurora Borealis’.

It has been on Linda’s bucket list for a long time and like other destinations Linda has ticked off her list such as India, Russia and Easter Islands, I went along with some hesitation (particularly Russia). Each of those trips turned out to be exciting adventures that I have had no regrets experiencing (perhaps a little too exciting in Russia).

Our flight from Charles De Gaulle got away on time and we arrived in Reykjavik three and a half hours later. Still daylight which made it a little easier for us to travel into town on the public bus. Snow everywhere! White on white, every direction you looked! I was not used to this. Sure I have been up to the Ski resorts on the odd occasion but for only one or two days before coming down the mountain to where I could once again see where the roads started and finished. But now we were staying for two weeks!

Our accommodation for the first four days was a recently refurbished building run, and occupied, by a much younger demographic than ourselves, but it was in a great location right in the middle of town and our room overlooked the main bus depot. That may not sound appealing but I actually enjoyed the hive of activity below, watching people brave the elements dragging themselves to work while I didn’t have to! And being a small city it wasn’t overwhelming busy.

It is not totally foreign for me to wake up while it is still dark outside but waking up at 9am and waiting until 10am for daylight was weird. Once it was light enough we donned our snow gear and went for a long walk along the waterfront stopping for some brunch. Iceland, like Easter Islands, is quite remote and shares the same bugbear typical of isolated locations – everything is so bloody expensive. It is not unusual to pay the equivalent of AUD$7.00 for a coffee but as I was expecting that I decided I could live with it for two weeks, as long as the coffee was good-Sadly it wasn’t and on our first morning I got them to make it three times but it was still crap, and they wanted me to pay for them all!!!  We didn’t go back there again.

The walk back to our hotel was along the Main Street. Iceland is geographically marginally closer to continental Europe than mainland North America and is generally included in Europe for cultural, political and practical reasons but I felt it to be more North American. It reminded me a lot of Anchorage from a brief visit a few years back. Maybe it was the style of the buildings but probably because my toes were freezing!

We didn’t need to be processed by immigration to enter but our Euros were no good so we had to withdraw some Kronas which caused us some confusion as we had become quite used to the Euro. Whatever the case, with the conversation rate at the time, they both seemed to make our currency resemble Monopoly money and I often found it to be less painful to hand over the credit card without doing the math.

We were here to see the northern lights, that’s why we were staying for two weeks. There are so many stories of visitors going to great lengths to view the lights only to be disappointed by excessive cloud coverage spoiling things. Travelling three or four hours from Europe or America and not seeing anything is quite frustrating but we had heard of Australians making the mammoth journey only to be very disappointed by a ‘no show’. Two weeks was going to give us a good chance. We booked a tour where a bus would pick us up from our hotel late in the evening and take us out of town away from the city lights for hopefully, a good viewing. Our first attempt was a dismal failure. The weather forecast had promised clear skies but it had clouded over by the time we arrived at our vantage point. They provided us with hot chocolate and a local liquor, you could run the bus on, but that was to be the only highlight of the evening before boarding the bus for the long drive back to our hotel.

Even though there was a guarantee from the tour company to take us out again until we got a good viewing, we decided we didn’t want to rely on that night after night so we rented a car for the remainder of our stay, to ‘go it’ solo.
What could go wrong? …especially as I had next to no experience driving in Snowy conditions!

I had a spell of rally driving in my younger days and I was going to have to call on all my skills, while allowing for a slower reaction time! What I found most helpful was all the Facebook footage I had viewed of Russian dash cam. It certainly reminded me to slow down at times as even though the vehicle was fitted with studded snow tyres, there was no stopping, especially on glazed icy roads. It was a matter of slowing down enough to take a corner. If there was something stationary in front of you, you were going to hit it.

I managed to pick the car up from the airport and navigate my way back to pick Linda up from the city. She had bought some famous cinnamon buns from a bakery in the bus depot for our journey- which were the tastiest, freshest cinnamon buns we had ever had.

We were heading out of Reykjavik in a south easterly direction. Our rookie status caught us out forgetting how quickly it gets dark so by 4pm I was squinting hard trying to keep between the posts as they provided the only clue that separated the road from the swampy fields in either direction to the sides. To say I was relieved to find our accommodation we had booked would be an understatement. It was a largish house/unit in a rural setting in an area which was service by hot springs that provided hot water for heating. The house was tropically warm inside and going downstairs where the laundry and boiler was located, it was sweltering! We washed our clothes and they were dry in no time. As with most accommodation throughout Iceland, there was a hot tub outside which was set at the usual temperature between 40 and 50 degree Celsius. The challenging part was running naked across the snow in sub-zero temperatures to get to the tub. Once inside though, it was most enjoyable. Too much cloud coverage that night again so no sky show but sitting in the tub after a stressful drive with snowflakes falling on your head was just perfect.

You will have to wait until next weekend to hear about the rest of our travels in Iceland. If you want a ‘midweek’ blog – we could be convinced by a show of comments below!

People often ask us about how we get our house sits. This is the main website we use: https://www.trustedhousesitters.com/refer/RAF147238/
If you use the link above you will also get a discount on membership.
If you have any questions don’t hesitate to ask.
Enjoy.

Curzon is a sleepy commune south of Nantes and about a thirty minute drive to the west coast of France. We arrived on a very cold afternoon and met our new hosts, Gil and Jacqueline. Jacqueline, originally from the UK has lived in France for many years and Gil, a retired French policeman, were going to Portugal for a holiday. They were very welcoming and we got to know each other over a few drinks around the fireplace in the lounge room of their comfortable four hundred year old converted farmhouse, where they live with their much loved dogs, Caramel – a beautifully well natured elderly cocker spaniel, Hortense, a prim and proper princess of a standard poodle and last but by no means least, Valentino – a grand, ginger, young and playful Russian, giant poodle.

We were sure we were going to enjoy our five week stay looking after these pooches while enjoying fine French food and wine in the tranquility of a farming community, but first we had to drop off our excess luggage and drive on to Paris. It was only about a four hour drive but we wanted to stop somewhere overnight so we could arrive in Paris in the morning. I unfolded my trusty dog eared, torn map and noticed that the journey took us right thru ‘Le Mans’, but it wasn’t really far enough into the journey to stay overnight and, at best, I was only going to see some public roads with extra Armco, so after a drive around town taking in the sights, we kept going to a city named Chartres. We knew nothing about Chartres but chose it because it was a comfortable drive into Paris the next morning – and because I liked the name.

Linda had booked a room in a former monastery. A beautiful stone building in the old quarter of town that was accessible by cobblestone streets. The old town area was very restricted, we had to use an intercom to be granted access and had to wait for the retractable bollards to disappear into the ground so we could drive through! – I really don’t know how she does it!! The check in process was pleasant and the room was basic but more than adequate with a commanding distant view of the regional farmland – not too dissimilar to the drawings commonly seen of French wine labels. Our evening walk was brisk and we were spoilt for choice of restaurants. We were shadowed by the Chartres Cathedral, a grand gothic building that resembles the Notre Dame in Paris. Not wanting to choose a restaurant too close to the cathedral that are generally rated for location rather than quality of food, we strolled the cobblestone streets until we found a place that appealed to us, and we were not disappointed with the food or the service.

Our drive into Paris was relatively smooth. We tried to avoid the peak hour traffic but I don’t think it really mattered – it’s bloody busy all the time! We said goodbye to our trusty ‘Dustie’ the Dacia that transported us trouble free through seven countries and over ten thousand kilometers, at a depot on the outskirts of Paris. We unloaded our lightened luggage and caught the train into town navigating ourselves to another one of Linda’s masterstrokes – a chic Parisian apartment just a stone’s throw from the Louvre and one block back from the banks of the Seine. If you looked up ‘traditional Parisian apartment’ in the dictionary, there would be a picture of our temporary abode. High ceilings with huge exposed timber beams, exquisite cornice and light fittings, creaking, sloping floors complete with period furniture and rugs. It was an Airbnb, and the girl that greeted us was delightful, providing us with all the usual tips of where to eat and drink like a local.

It was Linda’s birthday the next morning- I got to spend my birthday in Barcelona and Linda got to spent hers in Paris. We are loving this lifestyle – we don’t have to buy each other presents when we stay in places like these! However, I did buy some roses in the morning. The fact they came from the supermarket when I was picking up some fresh croissants shouldn’t take anything away from that at all!

We rugged ourselves up for a solid days walking. Linda wanted to find a restaurant we had dined in around the theatre district on a previous visit. We had been warned that the ‘Yellow Vest’ protesters would be marching along the Champs-Élysées between the Arc de Triomphe and the Louvre and that we should avoid the area. So we proceeded directly towards the Louvre! We weren’t going to let them spoil our day. If you haven’t heard of the ‘Yellow Vests’, they are a revolutionary political movement that demonstrate (at times, violently) for economic justice that began in France in October 2018.

It was Linda’s birthday and we were on a mission – a difficult one at that. Do you have any idea how many restaurants there are in the theatre district? We were being guided by a vague memory of it being on a corner but that didn’t narrow it down too much. Our legs were beginning to ache and it was so cold some of the puddles were frozen. “Let’s just pick a restaurant”, we snapped at each other. So we went into the next one that looked reasonable, but unfortunately it wasn’t as good as the one from several years ago – it never is, is it? And to make it worse, the pommes frites were so hard and dry, I broke a filling.

We enjoyed the afternoon aimlessly walking the streets just taking in the ambiance of one of our favourite cities. Our evening meal was a bit of an odd choice for our final dinner in Paris- an Indonesian restaurant that was highly rated and the lady that ran it was quite a character. The meal was good but the Bintang I ordered alone probably cost more than a meal for four in Bali!

That was our brief visit to Paris. We were to board a flight to Reykjavík in the morning for a two week look around Iceland in the hope of viewing the ‘Northern Lights’. We would be returning to Paris for an overnight stay before flying to Fes in Morocco. We have been to Morocco before for an extensive tour but we weren’t able to stay in Fes for as long as we wanted to so when we found some cheap flights to Fes, and we still had time to spare before going back to Curzon, why wouldn’t we go there for a week?

See you next weekend in Iceland.

I am old school when it comes to roadmaps. I like to unfold a big map to chart a route unlike some that just punch their destination into a sat nav and drive aimlessly. While looking at my roadmap, I noticed ‘Andorra’ with blue dotted lines around it. “Must be an independent country,” I thought, so I googled it and sure enough, it is! Don’t remember learning about that at school (not that I remember learning much at school!). As you might remember, we like visiting these micro countries so I planned the minor diversion to our trip.

As we were leaving Castelldefels I noticed we were driving along the motorway with the sea to our left. “This sat nav is taking us South”, I said to Linda, when I knew we should have been heading North. I pulled up and checked the sat nav and worked out that it was taking us to Andorra in Spain. Three hours in the opposite direction! Fortunately we had only travelled about 10km – imagine if we hadn’t checked! I wouldn’t mind betting it happens quite often.

Andorra la Vella is actually the capital of Andorra, a tiny independent principality in the Pyrenees Mountains between France and Spain. It’s known as a duty free retail hub. That was enough to get Linda excited!

It was quite a climb to get there but still only about three hours out of Barcelona. We had a hotel booked in the centre of town. It was noticeably different to Spain. The style of the buildings, traffic signs and general tidiness gave more the feel of Switzerland – must have something to do with the abundance of money! I already noticed the price of fuel was considerably less than Spain, and Linda couldn’t wait to hit the shops.

We wanted to stock up on medications that were going to be expensive or hard to get in France, as well as some Whiskey, Gin and several other spirits that were priced so attractively we couldn’t pass them up- Hendricks Gin at half price, how could you leave that behind!!

We also bought a ‘GoPro’. Linda had bought me a ‘gimbal’ back in Spain but it was far too complicated to get my head around and was extremely frustrating to use so it went back to the store. The GoPro was not much easier but I’m slowly getting used to it.

Our hotel had a trendy restaurant attached so we chose to eat there rather than braving the near freezing conditions outside. The food along with attentive staff was very good, which made for an enjoyable evening.

We had another walk around the city after we checked out and then retrieved our car from the garage to head towards the French end of the country. A detour to a mountain top observation area was well worth it. The views were spectacular and we were blessed with a very clear day.

One more stop just before crossing the border to have some lunch. There was a huge shop that sold just about everything from cannabis beer to wooden penises with ‘Andorra’ embossed on them. They encouraged the sampling of wines, some fine smoked meats and yummy cheeses. We had tried so much we didn’t feel like lunch so we just had a coffee and got on our way.

Just like crossing from Spain to Andorra, it was equally as noticeable crossing from Andorra to France. The buildings were older and grey, roads were different and the biggest give away – the signs were written in French!

Toulouse was the target for the days driving. It wasn’t that far away but the dark drizzly conditions made if a painful journey and I was pretty relieved to arrive at our hotel on the outskirts of Toulouse. We were staying at an Ibis Hotel which is pretty basic, cheap and cheerful but perfect for a ‘road stop’ with easy, secure parking and a standard that is reasonable, which is good for avoiding nasty shocks.

Our plan was to drive to our next house sit in Curzon, located on the west coast just south of Nantes. Our house sit wasn’t due to commence for another six weeks but it was a good opportunity for us to meet our new hosts, and they had kindly allowed us to leave our luggage there as we were continuing onto Paris to return the car and fly to Iceland.

We opted not to go with the Ibis breakfast so I drove to a nearby Lidl store in the morning to get some fresh croissants and juice for breakfast. I couldn’t find a cafe much to my dismay but I noticed a Renault Dealership next door to Lidl. Car dealerships always have coffee machines in their service waiting area and this one didn’t let me down. As long as I looked like I was supposed to be there no one was likely to challenge me. I wouldn’t have understood them even if they did!

We were very close to Toulouse airport which neighbours one of the largest Airbus factories in Europe. That was evident by the number of vehicles around bearing the name ‘Airbus Industries’ on them. The idea of touring the factory that manufacturers the A380 jumbo aircraft appealed to me but I didn’t think it would excite Linda too much. I didn’t suspect it would be a quick tour and we had some distance to cover that day. We didn’t have time to look at Toulouse either so we continued along the ring road and headed in a northwesterly direction. We did have time however, to take the ‘B’ roads instead of the toll roads. Slower but a much more scenic drive and some of the villages we drove through were traditionally charming and picturesque. So traditional in fact, that we couldn’t find anything open to get some lunch as all the shops were closed for “la sieste”.

We giggled like a couple of school children when we drove through a town called ‘Condom’ and entertained ourselves by stopping to have some lunch while making all the obligatory jokes! After a long pleasurable drive we found ourselves a small house for the night on Booking.com not far from Jonzac. It was toasty warm when we walked in, which was nice because it had become chilly once the sun had gone down and the overnight temperature got so low, a water bottle I left in the car was frozen solid the next morning, Brrrr.

Once I had scraped the ice from the windows we were on our way for the final stretch to Curzon.

Look out for the next blog to meet our new pooches.

New Years Day was just as quiet as NYE and Christmas Day. I was in desperate need of human interaction as the dogs alone just weren’t cutting it! Luckily, it wasn’t long before I was picking Mark and Jacki up from Alicante airport but it was to be a brief catch up and handover as I needed to hit the road for the six hour drive north to Barcelona and be reunited with my good wife. We had been apart for about a week, which is a long time particularly as we had been living out of each other’s pockets for the previous six months!

We enjoyed our time in Almoradi looking after Buddie and Skye and we have fond memories of Navidad in the small town. We didn’t get to Benidorm which wasn’t too far away but having recently watched a British sitcom called ‘Benidorm’ we are satisfied that it’s not our kind of destination! We would be happy to return to the Torrevieja area some time, particularly some of the smaller beachside towns.

Linda’s new abode was an apartment in Castelldefels, on the beach just south of the airport and about a twenty minute train ride into downtown Barcelona.

I mentioned Bob and Gina in the previous blog. They and their two dogs Chewie and Murphy live in their beachside apartment for the winter months and they spend the other half of the year at their home in France to escape the Spanish summer. They were flying to the UAE to visit their daughter for a couple of weeks so we were there to look after Chewie and Murphy and walk them on the beach a couple of times a day. A tough gig I know, but we were up for the challenge!

As soon as I arrived after a long days drive Linda grabbed her bag put the dogs on their leads and said, “We’ve got to go down to the beach!” as there was a parade celebrating the three kings. ‘Three Kings Day’ is celebrated in a bigger way than Christmas Day in Spain. It’s actually the day kids open their presents. The parade attracted thousands of people to watch three heavily costumed kings arriving at the beach on camel back and parading out on vintage cars. Quite a sight!

I had never been to Barcelona before (other than a brief stopover) so I was stoked to be spending my birthday there. We caught the train into town and spent hours walking around, taking it all in. We couldn’t get in to see the Sagrada Familia that day but that was just as well because it almost needed a full day in itself. We did however find a restaurant that was recommended to us by Bob and Gina and enjoyed a gastronomic treat for my birthday lunch.

The morning walks on the beach were invigorating. The sand was always freshly combed and it was quite brisk until the sun came up. Then it was time to decide which beachside cafe to visit (I told you it was going to be tuff) of course I tried them all to determine which one would become my regular. Chewie was content to sit in the sun but the older, grumpier Murphy would start barking when he wanted to go home. We would be graced with Linda’s company for the evening walks which we timed to coincide with the stunning sunsets.

The day we did go back into town to see Sagrada Familia was also a bright sunny day. It was at the ticket office I was offered a ‘sixty and over’ seniors discount for the first time – I didn’t know whether to be happy or miserable!

What can I say about this place? I had been getting a bit tired of all the churches we have been in to see but this one just blew me away. The detail and engineering that has gone into it is astonishing. I had heard about it of course but I had no idea it was still a work in progress and even the proposed completion date of 2026 is said to be a bit ambitious. 2026 was chosen as it marks the 100th anniversary of architect Antoni Gaudi’s death and 144 years after the commencement of construction.

As good as these pictures look, they just do not convey the ‘awesomeness’ of this inspiring building.

Gaudi’s other works in the city are also spectacular and seem to be way ahead of their time. He was an amazing talent and he was killed by a tram of all things! I guess when your time’s up, it’s up!

Chewie and Murphy were good dogs. Murphy has been a long time family pet. He keeps to himself and is a no nonsense sort of a dog. Chewie was a rescue dog from Mexico! A playful mature pup but could be a bit timid. Linda warned me before I arrived that he can be wary of men. When I did arrive at the front door he did this weird backwards walk to the other end of the apartment, but he soon warmed to me, who wouldn’t!!!

‘What’s a Mexican rescue dog doing in Spain?’ You might ask, I asked the same question! Apparently Bob & Gina’s daughter was living in Mexico and took Chewie, a rescue dog, on as a young pup. When her family relocated to the UAE they had to find a new home for him so Bob and Gina flew him over. What a lucky dog – from the streets of Mexico to comfortable homes in France and Spain!

Our time in Castelldefels was another enjoyable housesit in an amazing place but all good things must come to an end. We picked up Bob and Gina from El Prat airport, a convenient twenty minute drive away, to return them to their four legged babies. They were tired after a long flight home so we let them rest and drove to La Rambla to enjoy our last day in Barcelona. It’s an amazing city that buzzes with excitement every corner you turn. We returned to the apartment and were surprised with a home cooked fish meal, enjoyed some fine wine and good conversation before packing our bags for the long trek to Paris via Andorra, for a spot of shopping.