I haven’t been in a coma since 2013 … I’m just too happy and lazy to build a new blog, so I’m going to cannibalise this old one for parts.

This trip is different to the one below because I am sans children. Which means a reoccuring theme will be roof top bars and church mosaics. Two things that are tricky with a small entourage.

I am currently in beautiful Istanbul. So much more perfect than the last time I was here a couple of years ago when it was scary, aggressive and unsafe, but fabulous. There is no aggression at all now. But I am in a very different part of town and I am with a Turkish friend. Both important factors.

Or St Christopher as the English called it. What a beautiful place. My favorite island. The town reminded me of Apia. Simple. Very rugged and hilly and steep. Lush and mango-y and jungly. With a bonus of hundreds of monkeys; butterfly cloud forming season – like yellow snow storms; we visited an old plantation site with a beautiful garden; drove to the top of the mountain to look at Nevis, next door; lazed around on a beach with a bar made of packing crates that sold beer, rum punch and ribs and was idyllic.
Rum punch: pineapple juice, orange juice, white and dark rum, and grated nutmeg. And some other stuff. Maybe. It’s very nice. If there was Love Boat wifi I could Google the recipe. But for $US40 for ½ an hour I’m just going to guess.
These are photos of monkeys in tiny nappies, jungle, a man sneezing in a cloud of yellow butterflies, ruins of a sugar plantation, and a freaky flying water stand-on thing that Jack would like for Xmas.

So, once aboard the Love Boat we chugged off to St Maarten. It’s ½ Dutch, ½ French and we hung out in the Dutchy part. The kids snorkeled off the beach and made delightful dolphin shrieking noises through their snorkels every time they saw something fun. It was $10 for 3 beach chairs and 3 beers. Ideal. ☺

I think only homeless people actually sit on the sand here. Tourists are obliged to spring for a lounger with an umbrella (and beer) which is no hardship when you factor tourist money is the only economic stimulation.

The first night on the ship there was a ‘man over board’ alarm at 3.30am. I thought I must have dreamed it. The kids were snoring. There was no one in the corridors. I sat outside on the balcony for half an hour watching distant lightening and the moon and phosphoresence on the wave crests … meanwhile on the other side of the ship we had rescued 3 people from their sinking yacht. So I wasn’t mental – as it turned out.

The ship has a Kid’s Club thing and Jack and Molly LOVE it. They don’t want to visit any of the islands. They spring out of bed! in a rush to get there. Or run back up the gang plank on return if I have persuaded them to leave the ship. I think it’s been nice for them to speak to children who aren’t each other.

Here’s some photos of St Maarten and our little friend. We’re eating shrimp with rice and beans / ribs with rice and beans. And everything comes with plantain.

There’s lots of friendly, sweet cats in Puerto Rico, with no visible signs of rabies.

From London we flew to Philadelphia. (And the big gag is that it’s the second time on this trip, because Amman, Jordan was the original Philadelphia). And then changed planes to San Juan, Puerto Rico. This flight was very like flying to Apia. It took 3 hours. In a small plane. Everyone either knew each other, or were related. Everyone had his or her own KFC with them and there was a great deal of shouting and singing and then wild applause when we landed safety, as if it was an unexpected bonus. Except all in Spanish instead of Samoan.

Note to self and other travelers: as of last month it is now difficult to travel to the US with children who have a different last name to you. FYI. So far its been OK because the kids can insist that I am indeed their Mamma and not a stranger coercing them.

Puerto Rico – What a very delightful place. Humid and tropical and lush. And everything seems to be in very sharp focus, with exaggerated colours. Too blue and too green. Especially after lavender and grey Berkshire and pink and yellow Lyon.

The old part of the capital city, San Juan* is Spanish colonial with some nice city walls and a large fort or two. Its quite small and walkable and touristy and a little like Puerto-Rico-Land at Disney World if there was such a thing. Except populated with a million very sweet, diseased catties, which would never be allowed at Disney (except after hours).
*Mouse is confused between San Juan and Sichuan. I think she is over-travelled.

I’ve learned that most of the Eastern Caribbean islands are totally economically dependent on tourism now that the sugar industry has moved to Central and South America. Which synchronised with most countries gaining their independence from their European colonisers. Therefore screwing any chance of maintaining the life styles and social services that the populations had under their colonisers.

Thoughts on the Caribbean in general:
• It’s like Thailand, but with buffalo wings, Rastafarians and no pedophiles.
• It’s not ironic to drink corona with lime
• The local guys look like dreadlocked Calvin Klein models and call you ‘baby, honey or princess’ which makes me go pink and drink another rum cocktail
• For the first time in my life it’s appropriate to have enormous boobs, because everyone else does.
• Creole food, plantains, rice and beans, ribs and BBQ all taste exquisite (only) on a beach with a sun set.
• Southern people (making 45% of the boat people, the other 45% are Puerto Rican and 10% miscellaneous) all say ‘y’all’ and ‘ma’am’ in every sentence
• The sea is clear, but not as clear as Greece and their reefs and coral are nothing compared to Australia. Which I think is a global warming thing.
• People on the islands say ‘Jah bless you’ and smile a lot.
• The boat people just LOVE formal night on the ship. It’s fascinating. Beautiful old ladies (my age) in sparkly Oscars style dresses; tuxedos; very fat young people in dresses like squeezey sequined tents. (In NZ they would be at St Lukes in track pants, not in red satin.)
• Fat, black Caribbean ladies in tight dresses look sexy. Fat white ladies in tight dresses look sad. Also, ladies with grey dreads look very cool. I think I’ll go that way when the time comes/dye runs out.
• I’m finding the whole LoveBoat thing fascinating and very enjoyable – it might loose some charm after the 3rd or 4th time.

Here’s some photos of Puerto Rico, a squashed frog, and a cockroach.

The truly magical thing about living in Europe is the access to the rest of Europe. Karen and Andrew went to Barcelona for a long weekend. And we went to LYON! For 5 or 6 days. I am deeply in love with Lyon. We stayed with the very dear and delightful Mellentin family which may have added unfairly to the overall captivating effect of Lyon – but OMG – I badly wish to live in Lyon now.

It is the perfect size – not too big or small. Perfectly placed within France (and the rest of Europe). Charming. Appealing. Unpretentious.

Julian and Adrienne and I had a wonderful dinner – drinks in the square beside the majestic horsey fountain; cocktails (communard = a kir, but with beaujolais) and then fois gras and roast goose. Sigh.

France is just a splendid place. Everything seems ‘just right’ – the climate; the incomprehensible-to-me language; the trees and squirrels (red! not grey); the peaches, and figs and raspberries; the wine, cheese, the marvelous dead things at the butcher’s shop; the patisserie; the architecture; the shops closing for lunch. I even like the way they drive, give or take a few alarming intersections ….

Here are some pictures:

Dadda had to fly home and we went to stay with our friends Karen and Andrew in the countryside, just out of London, in Berkshire – in a picturesque little village called Waltham St Lawrence. Where I spent the first 48 hrs doing laundry and drinking proper cups of tea and watching Great British Bake Off.

The kids recharged their cat batteries and played with Baxter the dog. And there were ponies, but we don’t know how to operate those.

And the garden, which is the size of Grey Lynn park has squirrels, hawks, kites, owls, badgers, moles, a toad, voles, chickens, horses, foxes, little deer, hedgehogs and ten million bunnies. And a slow worm.

The village consists of one church and one ancient pub. And a sprinkle of 400 year old cottages. It couldn’t be more beautiful. We ambled down to the pub each day for pork pie, or a sausage sandwich or pigeon breast or roast beef … washed down with delicious warm, watery local ales.

We were there for the Village Fete. Molly entered the ‘three eggs in a basket’ section and placed 2nd place – prize 50p.
Jack failed to place in the life drawing section – we blamed his recent exposure to the art at the Bienale in Venice. He was just too edgy and avant garde for the nice old lady judges of Waltham St Lawrence.

Karen, who is actually the nicest, kindest lady in the world took the day off work to take us to ‘Harry Potter World’. It was pretty cool. It’s the real studio where it was filmed so it has all the authentic sets and props. And we also went to Bekonscot model village which I thought was weirdly British and camp even before I learnt that Enid Blyton was an original patron.

I’m going to put the photos in, in the form another QUIZ! There’s a mixture of ‘at home in Berkshire’, ‘at the pub’*, at ‘Hogwarts’, and at the ‘model village’. But which is which!? Huzzah! Try the quiz ….

*Jack is drinking Butterbeer, (not proper English ale) – a noxious and foul beverage indeed.

Here’s a quiz for you. All of these photos were taken in London – but only some of these creatures are native to the British Isles. Can you guess which?
Also, there is an x-rated photo of Galapagos Tortoises – don’t say you weren’t warned.

Here are some very lovely photos of Autumnal flowers that Jack has taken in London.

We spent far too long in Venice because we couldn’t decide where to go next. We’d thought of going to Egypt but it was a bit rowdy or Istanbul – but the flights didn’t work. So we went to London a week earlier than planned. Can I just say that trying to find a place to stay in London, for 4 people, for under a million dollars is very arsey. We have over time stayed in some very lame places – but this time we found somewhere not totally lame. Yay!

Also, just FYI, if you ever fly into London City airport, in a teeny plane, it’s best to take a hip flask or a valium first. It’s very steep, urban, scenic in a horrendously close way, but handy if you’re staying centrally. And great if you’re a big Shard enthusiastic and have wondered what the tip looks like up close.

And we spent our first evening lying in the sunshine beside the meadow grass in Hyde Park with a lovely picnic. We ate raspberries and strawberries and there were wasps. Brilliant. Jack and Molly have a very warped idea of life in London since its always sunny and pleasant when they’re there. Ha ha.

And then we spent a charming few days stumbling around shops and sights looking about
while poor Daddy had to work. We went to the British Museum, The Tate Modern, the National Gallery, Hampton Court, Regents Park Zoo, The Tower … and we went to see a performance of Matilda at Covent Garden which was remarkable.

London couldn’t quite keep up the pretense of Summer after the first couple of days and we had to buy emergency warm clothes – it was our first not-stupidly-hot place of the entire trip so we weren’t prepared with singlets or socks.

My foodie hightlights in London were dinner at St John – bloody grouse, hare, bone marrow, lovely :). And we had fancy-pantsy afternoon tea at Fortnum and Masons, with little sandwiches and camp savouries and pots of whimsically named teas.

Also, London does take-out, healthy, delicious food so well. Sandwiches, salads, sweets – all fabulous and fresh and expensive. But so much nicer than KFC or a sausage roll. Marks and Spencers, for example, has such a fascinating range of take out ready to heat meals and ready to eat food. Sigh. I guess it’s all about supply and demand. NZ just doesn’t have enough people – and they only want a sausage roll anyway.