ITALY in September

I fornaci by night at Ponte dell"Orso

Emilia Romagna: Ponte dell’Olio

When we planned to go to Italy with Leslie and Bob,  my main concern was that we could return to Hure fairly quickly in order to pack up before our departure and as I had never stayed in this part of Italy and, as it was within easy reach of the border with France, it seemed ideal. Despite its proximity to Milan, the area around Ponte Dell’Olio was remarkably rural . We stayed in accommodation organised by Leslie in a newer part of the old town and we were pleasantly surprised by its spaciousness and comfort. A walk down the main street revealed the town as a traditional Italian community although the  freshly built area around our accommodation, the Piazza dei Fornaci , so named because of its proximity to the old brick furnaces near by, and the brand new supermercato situated in its centre, foretold modernisation to come.

Lunch in Parma

Parma Duomo (Cathedral)

In the 6 days of our stay, we visited Parma, Piacenza and Como, all medium sized major towns of the region. Of the three, Parma was the most impressive with its impressive Duomo and attractive streets.   Of course, part of a trip to Italy was the food and in Parma, our choice  was very good pizzas which we ate enthusiastically for lunch. Como was not seen as its best as the weather had turned grey and this, coupled with what appeared to be pollution, made visibility poor. Piacenza was our homeward drink stop that day and if it hadn’t been for the fact that we drove around in a number of circles trying to link up with Leslie and Bob, we might have appreciated it more. As it was, the excellent pinot grigio and the nibbles provided at a bar near the centre were the high point.

 However all was not lost. Our visits to smaller parts of the region were more interesting. On the first night, we had a most impressive (in terms of size, taste, interest and price) meal that was enjoyed by everyone. The wine was excellent as was the pasta (local speciality was tortellini con spinaci, although we also had it con funghi.) The waiter who had been advised of our arrival by the owner of our apartment, was very helpful although I plunged on in my best Italian, since in fact he spoke no English.

In fact, one of the things I liked best about the holiday was that there were many occasions when no English was spoken and so despite its inadequacy, my Italian was required. I much prefer this type of travelling when I can use the local language although of course when I can’t, English speaking service is much appreciated.  But travel through the filter of an English speaking guide, or in an environment when the tourist trade assumes English everywhere, seems to me a little sterile.

Toasting with rosso frizzante at the Trattoria in Ponte dell'Olio

Toasting with rosso frizzante holding bowls the correct way

We discovered a few interesting aspects of the local food culture in other restaurants. In a very small trattoria in Ponte dell’Olio, with only a few locals drinking in the bar, we had an excellent introduction to local customs. Mine host, unsmilingly friendly, negotiated our meal ( he actually told us what to  have): antipasto, pasta (tortellini con funghi e spinaci, get the pattern?) and porchetta which was a sort of salted roast pork (or ham). We drank the local wine, in this case a Rosso frizzante (sparkling red), which he gave us in 1.5 litre bottles (we consumed 2 ).This was served (typically) in round white thick porcelain bowls and custom demanded that this be drunk with either the thumb or the third finger in the bowl which was supported by the other fingers. Quite easy really. We finished off with expresso coffee (particularly significant for Murray, who never touches coffee) and generous doses of grappa offered by our host.

Indeed, our visits to small towns were often more rewarding.  We set off on the first day and found a small market, and Bob discovered the challenges of driving on small Italian country roads; we visited Bossetto, the town near Verdi's birthplace, which despite his unenthusiastic lack of support, insisted on feting their local hero with the construction of a theatre in his honour. Jack and I visited late on the Tuesday, the tiny town of Vigoreno, perched high about the rest of the countryside, a tiny fortified castello, still occupied and quite beautiful in its serenity and the vista that unfolds down the hills. We returned there on Friday for a lunch of antipasto, pasta and round pig cheek parcels, all washed down by rosso frizzante (bottle 1) and a good solid still red – the joys of the sparking wine were wearing off.   Despite the cobblestone descent in the much larger but equally picturesque town of Castel d’Arquetto, we ventured from top to bottom: no mean task for Leslie, who, unencombered by George, her prosthesis, was instead settled in her wheelchair, nor for Bob and Murray who were pushing. Despite their difficulties, there is never a word of complaint,  and their positive approach often makes this self-obsessed little person feel rather small.

cattle at the market

Castello Riva, a private castle just outside Ponte dell'Olio

Inside the Verdi Theatre

Verdi

Romanesque church at Castell d'Aquetto

  

The ramparts at Vigoreno

Vigoreno from the tower

guillotine in the tower at Vigoreno

On our last night we strolled down our local street, hoping to immerse ourselves in the local atmosphere and have a drink. And we did. Bianco frizzante was on offer and not to break with tradition, I partook.  The only other offer was beer.

On Saturday morning we said goodbye to Bob and Leslie who were setting out on a much bigger travelling adventure, and returned to France. En route we stayed at Beziers, visited the fascinating nine locks just outside there to remind us of our canal trip and then we returned to Hure to pack up before our summer finally came to an end.

Dinner in Beziers

les neuf ecluses de Fonserannes

I always find it sad when our summers here in France come to an end. We are very lucky to be able to come here and spend time with our family and friends in what has become a comfortable house . As summer closes down and the sunflowers turn from a glorious yellow to a depressing brown, there is both a recognition of good times past and a sadness for their passing. I resolve again to focus on the positive and to extract from that what I can, as the future is as uncertain as the past is unchangeable.   

Off on the Canal du Midi

Canal du Midi

In September 2014, we set off for our second Canal Boat trip in France with the same friends, Leslie and Bob and with their son Murray as well. 

We had rather a hectic departure from Hure, as we had to close everything up before setting off  to meet Leslie and Bob and Murray in time to ferry them from their hire car location in Beziers to Colombiers where we our canal expedition with Canalous  was to begin. Finally they made the trip by taxi, which turned out to be the better idea after all.

Despite dire warnings from the Canalou brochure that early arrival would achieve nothing, we found that all the other early arrivers who ignored this advice, were ahead of us in the queue , and hence we were not cleared for departure until 7.45 p.m. which actually was a bit late.  This added to the frustration of some members of our party, who were keen to set off and this was not alleviated by the fact that there were many annoying problems with the boat, some of which were immediately obvious and some of which appeared gradually.

Nevertheless it was a beautiful night and the music from the  jazz quartet playing at the port where we were moored floated over the water as we ate our selection of cold cuts and salad on deck. The firework display brought the evening to a close although my nodding head prevented me from really paying attention.

A good night’s sleep on very hard beds followed although Leslie discovered rather late in the evening that her bed had been drenched by causes unknown (later ascribed to a leaking wondow).

We wait to see what else would go wrong. A Gallic shrug was required.

We set off after breakfast from Colombiers.  As occurred last time on the Canal, boat driving (steering?) was declared the province of the males on board, an agreement not disputed at all by Leslie and me, whose dignity was in no way impeached by our roles as takers of photos, and makers of beds. First stop was the village of Poilhes where, joy of joys, there was a vide grenier in progress. We had frequented many a vide grenier around Hure in search of glasses, plates and  furniture to furnish our house. At this one we just wandered, buying nothing ,except a book of Christian names (Jack – is he hoping for more pattering feet, I wonder.  A series of miracles would be necessary.)

On to Narbonne

 We stopped that night at the junction of the Canal du Midi and the Canal de la Robine which leads to Narbonne and ultimately to the Mediterranean. We dined on board under the stars. On Monday morning,  we waited for the technician from Canalou to explain to us how to operate the hotplates.  Despite being fairly expensive to hire for the week, the boat is not in tiptop condition. There is a long list of things that  don’t quite work or which leak. Nevertheless it is roomy and, if you like rock hard beds, quite comfortable. Repairs completed (or some of them), we set off to tackle the 11 locks on the way to Narbonne, stopping to eat at the only restaurant we find open but which offers a very good meal nonetheless. We arrive in time for the last lock, which should close by 7, only to find the lock keeper had taken an early mark. Tuesday morning saw us exploring the main sights of Narbonne and eating in their fabulous market. It was round about then that we realised that our canal trip was scheduled to finish in Carcassonne, which was further away than Homps, our original finishing point. So we left Narbonne, a  beautiful city at 2 to push our way back to La Somail, a very picturesque town on the Canal du Midi.

 

  

Narbonne at dusk

Narbonne by night

Lunch in Narbonne Market

Murray had by now mastered the steering of the boat and his apprenticeship completed, he took us admirably in and out of locks. His dependence on the  up-thruster which propels  rapidly when turning seemed appropriately limited. The up-thrust, when used, mostly when navigating in and out of locks, sends out a horrendous bellowing, recalling to us a mug lair on a motorbike.  Other members of the joint captaincy seemed less restrained. Indeed our navigation is not without moments. We collect more than of our share of tree branches in our travels and on one occasion, Jack overcorrected so much that we seemed likely to enter a lock backwards.

Safely returned to the Canal du Midi at Somail, we berthed for the night and the next day set off up the hill to the Chateau de Paraza for an early morning’s tasting of rose, white and red wines. We supplemented our existing stocks.

An itinerant epicerie

 We had planned a birthday dinner for Murray, celebrating during the day with multiple  chorouses of Happy Birthday, sung loudly (without appreciation) by Leslie and me, and the venue chosen was the town of Puicheric, which according to the map/book provided by the boat company had a restaurant, and all the appropriate shops. As it was not on the canal, we sailed past the first time and had to turn the boat back  in mid stream. Leslie boarded her wheel chair, and the rest of us walked/pushed up the road to the village. Unfortunately La Crise had struck: nothing was open. Nevertheless we had a few conversations with fellow travellers on bicycles who were looking for a pizza shop 5 kilometres away, and with some helpful locals. Returning to the boat we raided our supplies in the dark and feasted in the dark on what we had. Fortunately we had bought bread earlier in the day and Leslie had purchased in the Narbonne market, an enormous gateau for Murray.

Chateau  de Paraza

Carvings at L'Aiguille

 Towards Carcassonne

With two days to go we set out early, and arrived quite soon at our next double lock, l’Aiguille, a wooden lock decorated with sculptures in both wood and old agricultural metal. There were also moving scenes that  were activated on approach. 

 There are many double locks on the Canal  du Midi, so our progress was slow Murray, Jack and Bob shared the role at the wheel while the tasks of the crew were shared somewhat haphazardly. In contrast to our earlier canal trip in 2011, there are, on the Midi, lock keepers to oversee and to open locks and there were frequently three or even four boats in the lock at the one time. Without a lock keeper and with one boat in the lock, it was always necessary for one crew member to get out of the boat ahead of the lock, catch the ropes, secure them and activate the lock. With the lock keeper present, it seemed to me that we were less systematic which lead to problems. At one lock, as the water rushed in and the boat rose, it transpired that the boat was not secured. We could have thrown the rope (with some difficulty ) to the lock keeper or one of the other travellers. Murray was about to climb up the ladder of the lock to take up the rope when  75 year old Bob decided to make a leap at the ladder himself. In propelling him forward, his legs thrust the boat away and he was suspended, hanging by his arms above the rolling waters of the lock. For a moment, our hearts were in our mouths, as had he fallen he could have been trapped between the walls of the lock and the boat. Fortunately his feet found purchase on the lower rugs and he then climbed up. The lock keeper witnessing all this was somewhat unnerved, as were we.  

  

 That night we moored at Trebes where we found a Laundromat and did some much needed washing, drank a few wines in the bar and had dinner in a restaurant on the banks of the canal.

Plane Trees cut down near the canal

Burning must take place on site

Scenically the Canal du Midi still lovely. There are signs everywhere of the damage cause to the plane trees along the edges by the canker stain disease. This disease is easily transmitted and cannot be cured so ultimately it is believed that all the plane trees will be lost. Many  trees have already been cut down and burnt on the spot and many others are marked ominously with crosses and red or green spots. However there have also been many replantings of plane and other trees so the arborial heritage will be gone but trees will still line the Canal in the future providing much needed shade. Even in early September, temperatures are in the high 20’s. Across the fields can be seen wind turbines turning elegantly in the wind.

On Friday morning Jack went by taxi to Carcassonne where he wanted to check on minor repairs to our car which had been delivered there (at a cost) by the Canalou company.  We set off late in the boat after his return to our final destination and as we were required to return the boat at 9 am, we entered the town on Friday afternoon, and took the chance to go back to see Carcassonne’s old medieval city. It was not the first visit for me but it was for Leslie, Bob and Murray. Travel in a wheel chair on the cobbled steps was difficult especially for Bob and Murray who took turns to push Leslie when the terrain proved too difficult for her to manage.  We didn’t see a lot of the city but had dinner there in one of the many restaurants. Lit up at night, the medieval  city is certainly beautiful.

On the following morning, we said farewell to our boat, which had been very comfortable  despite a number of maintenance issues that caused inconvenience along the trip.  We loaded up the car with all our luggage and Leslie, Murray and I set off for the train with the intention of meeting up in Montpellier after Bob picked up the hire car at Montpellier airport.  When we arrived at the station, we took up a position in the brasserie opposite the station waiting for Bob and Jack in the (now) two cars. When Jack finally arrived and announced that Bob had been lost in the trip to the city, we were most concerned. Despite considerable anxiety on Leslie’s part, one-man  search parties by Murray and Jack and multiple phone calls (and a trip to the Commissariat by me and Murray to report his being missing), some hours later he ambled up calmly having parked his car at another station entrance. Harmony restored, we set off to Italy.

Trebes

Our final meal near the Canal

Ba Humbug

This year, I have decided to post my Xmas note to my blog. I’ve sent cards to many people and in some cases included the blog address so if you are one of those, the following is my Xmas update.

2010 was another big year for us involving a lot of moving around with some nice holiday excursions to help break it up. Summer was again spent in Hure, this time in more chaos than usual due to the massive work (we didn’t know how much it would entail) in the attic. We were lucky to have more friends and relatives come to share our summer in Southern France, but they had to suffer less than ideal conditions due to the work site we presented them with. We are always happy to share our life with old friends but our hospitality was a bit limited this year – buckets of dust ( rendering housework useless), holes in the ceilings, ladders in strange places. Still we hope the worst is over now.

We are going back to Hure for 2 days just before Xmas and again after Xmas. The actual big day will be spent at Clare’s new house in Valenciennes. Kate will be there too and we can all dote on the latest arrival to our family, Joshua Alan Smadja who arrived in mid November, taking Clare and Ilan’s family (in case you’ve lost count) to 4. Abby, Elliot and Isaac all seem besotted with him and he is a dear little chap.The other big family event this year was the marriage of David and Anita in Melbourne.

As a result of the combination of holidays, work in Hure, the birth of Joshua, I’ve spent little time in Australia this year which is rather sad. Still we explored a few parts of the world – India and Vietnam earlier in 2010 and Malta and Scotland in September. We also tripped off to Wales in early August to participate in the Borth festival with our old friends there. We went to the Australian War ceremony in the north of France in July and spent a few days oin Paris as well. We have passed through Hong Kong a number of times and accepted the hospitality of very kind friends here. Both Jack and I have some work here from time to time.

Of course all this travelling around meant we didn’t get to spend much time with our family and friends in Australia and when we were there Jack was struggling manfully to keep up the repairs in New Lambton. Still it’s now looking a lot more respectable and should see us out.

I have not included the names of all those people we shared our time with this year as I found it was becoming a sort of unending list where I feared someone would be omitted. But if you are reading this blog and are one of those whose lives touched ours this year, thank you for the privilege – and we hope to see you again soon. 2011 will see us in Kenya and Tanzania in February and of course, we’ll be back to Hure in the European summer. Otherwise, life’s mysteries await us. Life seems good so roll on the new year.

Our love and best wishes to all

Robyn and Jack (who shows no interest in bloging at all, so is cosigned without his permission. Oh well).

Summer Highlights

Fun and Games in Hure

Well I have been here in Hure today for 11 days and it’s been quite chaotic really. For those who see our life here as some kind of glamorous activity, please read on. On the plus side we have actually started on our work in the attic (in French it’s called amenager le grenier – sort of like make the attic ready for living in) . So far we’ve had a lot of building materials delivered: the wall and ceiling plasterboard, the replacement flooring for the part where the old oak boards are too damaged (abimes) , and the metal supports for the walls (here nothing is nailed to the wooden beams because changes in climate make everything move more.) As the truck could not get down our drive, we had to lug them down ourselves and tomorrow, we’ve to get the boards up into the attic through the hole in the floor, once Jack has removed the old boards. It’s only just dawning on me what a job it all will be!!!! We are running out of money fast.

And the garden survived remarkably well the long cold winter. We’ve had a lot to do but actually it’s not looking too bad as as the growing season continues, it will get better. I have some perennials now and with the help of new petunias and geraniums, it should do quite nicely.

But it will be good to get the attic started. We are going to lay a kind of chipboard over the dining room exposed beams as those boards have had it. We'll paint it a light colour underneath to make the room more light. We will have two (or three) bedrooms up there and a bathroom. Karim (across the road) is repointing the chimney above the dining room in the attic area and it looks great. It will be a lovely feature in the main bedroom there. He also did the back of the fireplace in the living room and I am very pleased with that too.

On a sadder note, M Flamand (our pool man), who volunteered some time ago to replace the old Girondine tiles in the dining room with other tiles from the period, found that the ones he had were the wrong size. In our part of France, the traditional tiling is called Girondine (we live in the department of La Gironde which has the number 33). The Girondine tiles are 33 cms square and very hard to acquire. M Flamand got new ones -the right size but bright and clean - they look awful. There’s a process to make them look less new but I think it will require time (centuries maybe – the floor is a couple of hundred years old.) And the pool is leaking again and going green while we wait for the pool techie (and /or M Flamand) to come.

And even worse, we have learned that somehow the roofing we had purchased and which Jack painstaking laid on the old Hangar in the garden, will not bear the weight of the old tiles we hoped to relay on it. So it seems we are stuck with a bright and shiny fake tile roof. I think I have been very restrained in my comments.

The carpets that we bought in India silk and woollen) arrived yesterday. Unfortunately one is missing. Despite rather insistent emails to the Indian company, nothing has happened as yet. I don’t know how to address this problem. As well we had to pay import tax in France which rather upped the price of the carpets. They certainly look good (the three that we have) but we would like to find the fourth (even though it will involve more tax.)

But the days are long and the sun shines when it is not raining. The garden is looking good. There’s a wonderful transparent light in the garden in the evening and a softness in the air that is indescribable. Our days are long because night falls so late and because there is so much to do and so little time.


I’m off to Valenciennes on Friday to spend a week with Clare and Ilan and the littlies. It will be a happy week. In the meantime, Jack will be struggling with the construction. On my return, the warm weather should be with us, we’ll have Carol and Bruce to stay, a visit to Paris and Lille and to the Australian Government World War 1 ceremony and then back to Hure for the summer. Despite all the hitches, I am looking forward to it.

Post script;

We have located the 4th carpet and it will be delivered tomorrow. The pool techie came and we think the problem has been solved. However it’s raining so hard we can’t tell yet.
Karim came over and we have redesigned the access to the grenier and almost committed to a pompe a chaleur for central heating. I have almost finished painting the boards for the new ceiling. When the old one comes down (today I hope) there will be a huge mess which I need to clean up before I leave for Valenciennes.

Festinate lente (make haste slowly) as the Latins said.

Munnar and Cochin

Travels in Southern India

Bangalore and the Golden Chariot.

We arrived in Bangalore at the uncharitable hour of 1.30, flying in from Hong Kong. However the man from the Paul Hotel, where we were to spend two nights (or one and a half nights), met us and drove us the long and tortuous journey into town. I snoozed trustingly and when we were finally shown to our rather luxurious suite, I snoozed even more. A propitious beginning. I had received a text message from Kathy saying there was a mix up with her flights and that she was arriving 2 hours earlier than expected the following morning. Her tale of woe when she finally arrived was less jolly – a combination of major delays on Qantas, poor service (from Qantas) and rerouting direct to Bangalore meant a rather stressful beginning for her. On the bright side, the transfer for which she would have paid 85 dollars was replaced by a twenty dollar taxi trip.

We spent Sunday after noon exploring the rather dusty and developing (in a haphazard way) environs and then had dinner at the hotel. The next day, after a little more exploring, we went by taxi to the rather luxurious colonial Leela Palace Hotel where we enjoyed a lovely lunch before being bussed to our train, The Golden Chariot, which was to be our home in the next week as we visited the historic sights in the region of Karnataka.

We had taken a triple cabin as we had travelled together before and found it quite easy. The cabin was furnished in classic Indian style (silk bedspreads, wooden panelling etc) but was a trifle cramped for three largish people. Jack got the upper bunk as he has always expressed a preference for hard beds and it certainly fulfilled that requirement as I found out later in our travels when I had to take over that position: Jack fell from his perch, early one morning, landing rather heavily and dramatically on the space on the floor between me and Kathy. Fortunately, he suffered only soft tissue damage to the area around his ribs, but his previous sprightly leap from floor to bunk was now beyond him.

Food on the train was both western and Indian and the service as excellent. We had our own valet to look after the four cabins on our coach and to bring us wake up coffee/ tea in the morning. On our return from day time excursions, he was always standing to attention at our carriage door, turban in place and a cool drink and towel ready for us. We spent every night on the train except the second when we set of for a jungle lodge and safari. Sadly Kathy was stricken with a tummy wog so had to stay on the train bravely accepting the ministrations of our loyal valet.

The lodge was a pleasant break and provided more spacious accommodation. The most exciting moment was when an elephant, somewhat annoyed by our jeep, took it into his head to charge us. However man and technology won the day as we accelerated out of his path. Other wildlife spotting both from the jeep and from the early morning boat ride was without significant success although there was a leopard in a tree a long way from us and about eighth jeep load massed together trying to discern its shape.

One of the constant issues for us was actually understanding the extensive information that all the local guides heaped upon us. Distinguishing place names (Indian) from English as she is spoke in Karnataka posed a major challenge for everyone on the tour. AS a result our learning curve as far as the history or India and the complexities of Hinduism was remarkable shallow. But our knowledge of geography was extended.

We started in Bangalore at the palace of Tipi Sultan, whose dad, the general, in the mid 1880’s overthrew the Maharaja whose family had ruled the region for 24 generations. His rule (Muslim) lasted for 2 generations through 4 wars where the British (pro Maharajas) and the French (prop Tipi) joined in. Tipi, who had introduced some good reforms it seemed to me, was finally defeated after about 40 years and the Maharajas supported by he Brits came back into power.

The train took us then to the very impressive Mysore palace where the son of the Maharaja lives in the back quarters. After the lodge/safari break we returned to Mysore Palace to see it at night illuminated by the most astounding number (96000) of light globes on its exterior. We ate at an old colonial hotel where a sixteen year old dancer performed 4 beautiful dances for us each one interrupted unfortunately by a collapse in the electricity. She soldiered on bravely however. Then the train headed north west for temple time and Ancient Civilisations.

Hassam and Hospet both were the sites of ancient Hindu temples and our guides were astounding enthusiastic if not totally intelligible. Hampi, the site of the former capital in 1336, and dating from much earlier has extensive ruins that have been declared a UNESCO world heritage site. We tramped obediently through all three over the next few days trying to absorb the history and the complexities of the Hindu religion and decipher the guides' explanation. We climbed the 700 step path to the top, although the option of being borne up by palanquin bearers was vey attractive.

After all that culture and heritage, Goa provided a pleasant break. Kathy and I actually took a swim in the Arabian Sea and provided wave jumping lessons for a little Indian girl who was travelling on the Golden Chariot with us.

Then it was our final night on the train and a chance to say goodbye to the fellow travellers. It was an interesting group of people from a variety of backgrounds French, Belgian, Sri Lanka, UK, and the States. And of course a few Indian locals. We enjoyed the cosmopolitan mix: it added an extra dimension to the tour. We exchanged email addresses with a few so may be in contact again.

On to Kerala

We flew from Bangalore to Cochin that day, a flight of about 1 hour. At the airport, ladies were screened separately for security purposes, passing through their own channel. We had planned to travel by taxi to our hotel the Poovath, but the transfer we had cancelled turned up anyway so we accepted that. The next day the transfer folk picked us up at the hotel for the long and bumpy 4-5 hour ride to Munnar. En route we visited the Cochin Palace which is under repair, but still is a good example of how the Maharajas lived. Inside we saw the gold crown presented to the Maharaja by Vasca da Gama in exchange for access to trade routes.


Thence a four hour drive to our timeshare, Club Mahindra, 22 bumpy kilometres from Munnar, set in the idyllic highlands, complete with misty mountains and sculptured tea plantations in all directions.

Visit to the Spice Plantation

On our first afternoon, we were besieged by a variety of taxi owners and negotiated a visit to a spice plantation where we learned a lot about the various spices. Although we determined to retain this info, below is a synopsis of all we could think of when we got back to our rather large and comfortable 2 bedroom apartment, which overlooked wonderful green tea plantations cascading down the slopes of the hills.

Some Notes:

Pepper grows on a climbing vine. Green peppercorns can only be pickled. Normally peppercorns ripen to red on the vine, at which stage they are picked... If allowed to dry in the sun, they become black peppercorns. If the black peppercorn is skinned, the inside is ground for white pepper.

Lemon grass mixed with aloe vera makes good mosquito repellent.

Nutmeg mixed with honey is good for sleeping but is not to be used to excess or you don’t wake up.

Chilli is hottest if it is red and small.

Chennidad

Our second day was a long trip through villages and national parks on both sides of the Kerala/ Tamil Nadu border. Our final destination was a crocodile farm and dam. As the major reason for this excursion was to see wildlife, we wandered somewhat disconsolately along the top of the dam hoping to see animals coming down to drink at the water. Seeing goats and their herders wandering through the possible wild animal terrain and then a jogger dispelled this wish for us and we were beginning to think the long journey rather pointless. However on out return as night fell we saw wild boar, deer and elephants tramping one after the other through the jungle. And to cap it off, our drive was blocked by a large male elephant staring rather malevolently from the side of the road. In retrospect we found the day a worth while one.

We hadn’t really fulfilled our plans for shopping so on the next day we went to Munnar on the afternoon, driven by our driver of the day, Franklin. Munnar is a great town – not at all touristy: the major wares are the local produce: tea, coffee, spices, chocolate. We found some shawls and I bought a sari although I have no idea why. I guess it completed the pair as I had bought another silk one earlier. I guess they will go with my other Indian outfits – white and black dotis decorated with gold sequins. Sometimes I surprise even myself

We went to an exhibition of traditional Indian drama – a very noisy affair but quite interesting: my concerns that my coughing would be a problem were unfounded as the noise accompanying the performance was deafening. We had dinner in one of the local hotel, which boasted selling wine with its meals,

We enjoyed our peaceful week in Munnar. Kathy and I rode an elephant, and fed it whole pineapples as a thank you. They have amazingly tough mouths and tongues and seem to have an enviable ability to deal with roughage – pineapples, whole pm leaves – everything is processed with amazing rapidity.

The day before our departure, we were informed that there would be a general strike in the area and all roads would be blocked. We had to contact our tour company rapidly and bring forward our departure to 4 am – not a happy hour. It was a bit of a strain for our driver too – he had driven the four long hours up from Cochin arriving at midnight and then had top drive us back. We were able to sleep on the way but Jack, fearing the driver would follow our lead and drop off at the wheel sat tensely next to him driving every bump and turn in his mind, willing him to stay awake. But we made it safely to Allepey, stopping on the way to buy some fish at a very dodgy market and also to continue our mission to buy silk stuff again. At Allepey, we boarded our houseboat for a very relaxing trip on the Allepey backwaters. With a crew of 3 and our own private bedrooms, we were waited on hand and foot. A very pleasant experience.

We finished our Indian holiday back at Fort Cochin which turned out to be much more vibrant than we had at first thought. Lots of markets and some interesting sites gave us ample opportunity to spend a couple of lovely days. There were lots of shops selling a variety of Indian products. We bought four carpets to be sent to France as well as a variety of bits and pieces. Probably more than we needed but there you are.

We flew from Cochin back to Bangalore and thence to Hong Kong where we spent about a week before setting off to Vietnam.