David & Sandi Travelogue

We both flew back to Gatwick airport on 17 Sept via Dubai. We had breakfast at 0300, then stopped for 2 hours at Dubai, taking the opportunity to buy another Canon camera [at 0500!] in the tempting duty free hall We love it! It is much lighter and slimmer than our weighty, but faithful, old PowerShot, and the shutter speed is also much faster. We then had another breakfast at 0700 on the plane, arriving in London at midday. Fortunately we had only 15 minutes to wait for a coach to Heathrow, where we had an hour before our coach to Exeter. While in the bus terminus, a man arrived with a beautiful falcon, which proceeded to fly around the terminus, from point to point, for 45 minutes. The resident pigeons disappeared within seconds! We chatted to the handler who says that their pest-control presence there once a week is enough to prevent the pigeons nesting in the eaves, and also keeps other pests at bay. Very effective and ecological pest control.


It was lovely to see Judy and Rob again, and to marvel at the bounty in their garden.

A bowl of raspberries and blackberries from the garden

Grapes ripening in the front porch

Crab-apples

Elderberries

Red sunflowers

A lush geranium specimen

While David was busy at the garage, Sandi found lovely llamas, in an opposite field, to photograph.

Sandi was booked to do a 3-day course in Huddersfield, but unfortunately the tutor was admitted to hospital, and had to cancel at short notice. Although disappointing, this was fortuitous, as the van took longer in the garage than the time we had allocated for the service, so we used the extra time to explore Devon.

Judy took us for a lovely amble on Dartmoor, near Widdecombe-on-the-Moor.






We came across this ancient sheep enclosure with the ruins of the shepherd's hut. Someone had left evidence of some harvest ritual in the hut.


Wild ponies abound, and are actually fairly tame, seeming not to be fussed by walkers.




We enjoyed wonderful views of Dartmoor, with several hills capped by torrs, and the trees a tapestry of green hues .



On the way back we stopped in Bovey Tracey at the House of Marbles, where we could watch glass-blowing, play with the intricate marble cascades in the museum section, and marvel at the displays of the history of marbles [while reminiscing about schooldays]. We were fascinated by the moving marble artwork on the wall.

Janet had given Sandi a tenner, to spend on herself, so she bought a beautiful perfume bottle with a stunning marble stopper, as a memento, from the enticing House of Marbles tourist shop in the complex.

On Tuesday we spent the day in Exeter city, and happened to pass this ornate door to the Guildhall, so out came the camera!


David was highly amused to find the answer to swine flu in a pharmacy, and insisted on being photographed with the evidence!

Apart from needing to do some shopping we wanted to visit the house that David's uncle, David, was renowned for moving. It is of historical value and unfortunately was sited where the new ring road was planned to go. David, the architect, had to devise a way of trussing up the house so that it did not collapse, then hoisting it onto rollers, and trundle it 300m up the hill to its current position. He did it successfully, and the house has been occupied by many differing tenants to date. In spite of achieving this incredible feat, his name is unfortunately not mentioned in the official records!


There's a lovely little watercolour of the house in the posting [Newcastle-upon-Tyne and Yorkshire], from the 2009 Topsham Art Exhibition. If it wasn't already sold when we saw it it would have been very tempted to buy it.

The house is adjacent to the old city wall, into which many other structures have been built.

The old clock tower opposite the House

On Sunday 6th September we attended the Voorkamerfees in Darling with Janet, Paddy and David, Si and Ingi and Shana and Gillian. The festival started a few years ago with support from the Nederlandse Art Council, with the idea of show-casing local and international talent in a unique setting. Each artist or group are hosted by a home in the small country town, and patrons are bussed in local taxis to three of the venues for a half-hour performance in each. We queued up for a taxi to take us to the first voorkamer.


We were entranced by the famous SA singer Amanda Strydom who sang for us with such passion.

Then off in the taxi to the next voorkamer in the “Coloured” area of town.

Here we were regaled by a young Zimbabwean with the story of his flight from a desperate Zimbabwe with his friend Jacob, who he lost to the crocodiles of the Limpopo, and how he struggled in Joburg and eventually became an actor in CT. It was a sad story but told with such passion and humour that one could not help enjoying it. We bought one of his little “wire-and-bead” Jacobs as a memento, and he now sits on the dashboard of our van.

The third act was a lady from UCT who played beautiful classical guitar.

While waiting for our last taxi ride we found a lovely patch of arum lilies, and could not resist capturing our friends, the Lilleys, in the Lilly field.

By now we were simply glowing with culture, so we found ourselves a spot to spread out and enjoy the splendid bring-and-share picnic under the trees.

Arriving back home was quite eerie; while it was lovely to be home, it was quite interesting to see the house differently arranged, according to Simon and Ingi's [a.k.a. Ping] style, as is the garden. Although they were apprehensive about our opinion of these changes, they had nothing to worry about, as we were happy, and all was good.

It was strange to come back from a gloriously abundant [florally speaking] UK summer, straight into a wet Cape Town winter. Simon and Ingi, the skatties, planted Sparaxis bulbs to surprise, and Sandi's favourite pansies were in bloom in the front bed to welcome us!

As it was David’s birthday, the family gathered for tea to welcome us.

Although Jamie and Lis couldn't be there for this occasion, they arrived in time for Sandi's birthday, so the MamaSan had her brood all around her at last.

Another cat, Tai Chi, has joined the family, making a total of five furries in situ.
And here she is - practising to be a surfer dudette on Jamie's boards!

The three "new kids on the block" having din-dins on their own

but granny Amber won't eat with the rabble!

Daisy, our other matriarch, refused to be photographed, but we had to sneak in this old shot of her just to complete the furry fam bit.

The younger ones take great pleasure in chasing the two older ones, which involves much yelling and waving of arms from all of us! Punjab, the pâté prince, decided to start spraying all over the place, as he was probably unsettled too. Simon and Ingi insisted on us having their master bedroom [i.e. our old room] in the house, and moving into the granny flat, which is packed to the rafters with our boxes. Not what we had planned, as we had intended to move into the granny flat, but very kind and thoughtful of the darlings. So there was much to-ing and fro-ing, as we daily retrieved clothes and belongings from each other's rooms! No wonder the cats were confused and both T'ai Chi and Gobbelina perched on high vantage points to watch the crazy antics of their humans.


The things that were wonderful were:
• Seeing family and friends again
• Looking at the mountain every day
• Winding up the cuckoo clock
• Eating out in CT
• Eating abundant sushi at the Blowfish

• Drinking cheap, but good Goatshed red
• Seeing a new direction develop for the Greenhouse
• Getting David’s new driver’s licence just in time before we left again
• Comparing one’s freedom with the existence of colleagues
• Meeting two of Jamie's new puppies, Mowgli and Kong

• Having a lesson with Anton on the lawn in Kundalini yoga
• No deterioration on David’s hearing test
• Celebrating both our birthdays and wedding anniversary at home.

Things which were not so good were:
• Packing up the practice at the Greenhouse, 6 months after we had spent so much time and effort leaving it in good order, and 25 years after we had started it
• Not having enough time to really enjoy CT as we had hoped
• Sandi’s home PC which crashed, had its innards replaced, but never really woke up from its long sleep
• Sandi’s colour laser label printer which jammed, and has not yet recovered, in spite of several visits to the repair shop. Not ideal in the middle of product production time [very stressful as there were lots of bespoke remedies and product orders requiring personal preparation before we left again]


• Having to share one car between 4 of us after Simon overheated the Carina, and it was out of action for a week
• Sandi dashing off to Johannesburg for two Professional Board meetings, and the politics that always accompany such events
• Finding 2 London congestion charges in the post [£182] along with a lawyer’s letter of demand
• Noticing how the cost of living has increased sharply in SA since February
• Both of us having flu [again!]
• Having to deal with practice taxes etc
• David dropping a concrete slab on his finger, while repairing the driveway.

Gastronomic highlights included many good meals enjoyed in the company of dear friends and family:
• As-much-as-you-can-eat Sushi at the Blowfish
• Shabbat with the Morrises [Sandi had flu and regretted not being up to her usual hungry self to enjoy the feast]
• Lunch at Constantia Neck with Granny Gaby and the family [without Sandi, who still had flu]
• Our favourite Chinese fare at Mainland China
• Shabbat with Janet and Tash

Sandi cuddling Janet's little dog Boebie

Simon will drink anything out of a nasturtium leaf!

Dew drop on a vine stem

Sun setting on the Franschoek mountains

What a celebration-filled month!

One crisp and sunny Sunday afternoon Dalene and Ian took us for a walk in the Tygerberg Nature Reserve [its existence hitherto unknown] where we walked among Bontebok, fynbos and had stunning panoramic views of Cape Town, while sipping chilled Veuve Clicquot and eating choc-dipped strawberries. Those Morrises sure are stylish!

So, all in all, the Nye roller-coaster experiences continued, but we decided to test our philosophical bent and patiently accept that: "It is what it is", and just get on with it. Home is however truly where the heart is!

We spent 2 nights with our friends the Bracchis, Sue, Kev,

and their lads, Michael and Matthew, in Newcastle, before moving down through the Yorkshire moors towards the coast.

The Bracchi clan - Sue, Michael, Matthew and Kev

Beloved friends

We stopped off in the pretty little port of Whitby, which would have been far more appealing if it were not raining. We spent the next 2 nights at the Scarborough campsite, also mostly in the rain. Campervans come in all shapes and sizes!

The big ..........

and the small of campervan life!

Sandi had an interesting experience in the shower next morning. There were only 2 shower cubicles and several people queuing. A foreign woman went into the one cubicle then proceeded to have a long conversation on her cellphone, before even turning the shower on. Sandi eventually got into the other cubicle and showered while the woman continued to chat. The woman, eventually finishing her call, started singing tunelessly, and turned on the shower taps. Sandi had just finished drying herself in the adjacent cubicle, when her feet got spattered in warm, smelly urine from the woman next door! Speechless, she washed and dried her feet again, while the woman continued singing and showering. This was all a bit too ethno-bungo for Sandi who fled the shower, only to find that it was raining cats and dogs outside. Undaunted she put her towel over her head, and headed out in the torrential rain – in the wrong direction! After 10 minutes of running around in circles, with all the caravans looking the same to her unspectacled eyes, she found herself at the reception office, where they offered her an umbrella. “Too late” she cried, but was quickly shown where the van was - in site #13! She arrived at the van and warned David not to utter a word, but he couldn't control himself, and was in hysterics of mirth. According to him he was very sympathetic. " Bah humbug" she declares!! Drenched to her underwear, she dried off after her “second shower”, and by this time laughing herself, dressed in whatever dry clothes could be found, ready for a walk into town via the cliffs.

The cliffs were only a short walk away, so we set out during a brief spell of sunshine, skidding our way in the mud towards Scarborough town.

View northwards from the slippery cliff top

View across Scarborough beach, towards the town

As we descended to the beach and the town itself the heavens opened, yet again, and the hail came down. Once again we were trapped by the elements! We discovered that Sandi’s jacket was not waterproof, and umbrellas do not function inside out! Remembering our Bulgarian hail-fest during the Rose festival, we just stood there in fits of laughter. After the worst had passed we squelched past all the beach-goers crammed into their colourful beach huts, drinking coffee and revelling in their dryness. With a touch of “sense of humour failure” we shopped for a more waterproof jacket - a tough, yachting, garment - and vowed to take the next bus home [to the campsite] as we were not going to squelch in our soggy shoes for 2 miles to get back. The next bus was in an hour and by then we were in a better mood, as the sun came out and dried up all the rain. We ended up walking back and stopped at the pub for an excellent carvery for £3.50. We [especially Sandi] felt we really deserved it!

Had a long drive next day to Kidderminster [near Manchester] where we met up with Jonathan Mills [Judy’s son, the Druid, who invited us to the wonderful Stonehenge experience]. We took him for supper in the pub nearby, before turning in for the night in his driveway.

Lovely rain-dappled lillies in Jonathan's driveway

Another long drive next day down to Ebford where we spent 3 days sorting out the van and packing for Cape Town. Sandi had fun capturing the summer flowers and fruit in Judy and Rob's garden.

Sunflower and Bee

Crab apples ripening

Judy's beautiful dahlia

Judy invited us to an art exhibition in Topsham, which she had organised and in which some of her paintings were exhibited. We were charmed by some watercolours of "The house that moved", since David's uncle, David, was the architect responsible for this historical feat.

The house that moved

A painting of a typical English countryside that took our fancy

David took the van to get 2 cracks in the windscreen repaired and, £40 later, got back just in time to catch the bus to Heathrow. We were each taking different flights home, with Sandi flying direct and David flying via JHB. David tried to charm the air steward into bumping him up to Business class as it was his birthday while in the air, but she would have none of it [his charm must be wearing off!] The birthday boy was however welcomed home with open arms!!

Janet welcoming David and Sandi home on 5/8/09

We spent a blissful 2 weeks at Bernie and Estrelita's, in Livingston, chilling out and informally house-sitting their lovely home while they were in the USA.

Bernie and Estrelita's house in Livingston

View from their front door

This reflective time allowed us to review how we were doing on our walkabout and we decided that prolonged periods of camper-vanning, with short overnight stops wasn’t ideal for us. We decided we need to spend longer in an area, and occasionally we need to have our feet on the ground, with a clean toilet at hand [hence the fab-u-loos reference]!

Out of this review grew the idea of formal house-sitting. So all systems go, we planned to line up a few sequential house-sits in France, Portugal, Spain and Italy, our intentions being [if we got such assignments], to spend a few weeks in each place, and to fill in the gaps between assignments in the van. So we subscribed to 2 online websites and started creating a website of our own, as a forum to advertise our services. Other than the text, we needed pictures to illustrate our abilities and credentials, so that Speedy-Jamie-the-Webman could get creating. Selecting pictures and writing words was quite fun, as can be seen below.

Gardener Sandi says: "What a lot I got."

Gardener Dave, fondling the produce!

With Jamie and Lis's Bali trip imminent, there was no time to waste.

Lis and Jamie

By now our B and E had arrived back from the States and we were enjoying some great friend-time with them.
For the next few days we engaged mainly in some excellent astrological consulting with Bernie, checking to see whether the stars and planets would provide clarity for us on several issues about which we had to make decisions.

Astro-Bern

In between we did a bit of gardening, helping Bernie put in some berry bushes and harvesting some fresh vittals!

Bernie working up an appetite!

Estrelita hard at work

Berry-nice gardening

Working 9 to 5, what a way to make a living!

Sandi and Bernie foraging for food

A Livingston Lovely lurking in B and E's garden

At night we had wonderful chats around the kitchen table, gorging on the delicious suppers Sandi cooked:
the old stand-by, Roman lamb, seafood chowder, Nye veg and ribbetjies bake, honey-glazed chicken wings etc. These feasts were declared so good that B and E declared they did not want to let us leave! What a way to make friends feel good!!

Bernie and the breakfast bib

Rude boy! Why do boys always play with their food?

Before leaving we visited Queen’s Ferry for brunch with Bernie.
Queen's Ferry is a cute village on the river Forth situated between two impressive bridges.

Queen's Ferry quaint high street

The road bridge over the River Forth

The River Forth rail bridge

At brunch we tried haggis for the first time! It is like a spicy, nutty mincemeat [made from sheep’s heart, lungs and liver with oatmeal and suet, all cooked up in a sheep’s stomach] - sounds a bit vile, but is actually rather delicious.

The much-maligned HAGGIS!

Wandering down the street we came across a little bookshop overflowing with used books.
The caretaker said to take as many books as possible, and to leave a small donation only if we felt like it.
What a dream! We staggered out there, laden with masses of reading material for the months ahead.
Who needs to pay a quid+ per book at the charity shops?!

The Bookshop-beamers

We finally tore ourselves away from our South African pals on the Sunday, but not before being treated to a splendid traditional Scottish breakfast prepared by Estrelita - haggis and all, nog al!

Our first stop en route to Newcastle-on Tyne, for a few more days with our Bracchi pals, was the now famous Rosslyn Chapel, not far from Edinburgh.

In the past 2 years since Dan Brown included the chapel in his book [The Da Vinci Code] the number of tourists visiting has multiplied ten-fold.
The whole chapel has been covered with a “roof” for the past 10 years, while they work on restoration and drying it out.

Rosslyn Chapel with preservation works in situ

Rosslyn Chapel as it could be without the scaffolding!

Inside, it is small and as there were lots of people, it was not easy to move about freely.
The carvings and details are quite exquisite, inside and outside, and well worth the visit.

Rosslyn Chapel details of stonework

Rosslyn Chapel - part of the exquisitely carved interior

The Apprentice Pillar is so-named, according to an 18th century legend involving the jealousy of the master mason in charge of the stonework in the chapel, and the skill of his young apprentice. The apprentice carved this beautiful column in his master's absence, and on seeing it the master was so enraged with envy that he whacked him on the head with a masonry mallet and killed him. As punishment for his crime, the master mason's face was carved into the opposite corner to forever gaze upon his apprentice's pillar.

Apprentice Pillar inside Chapel

We set off across the Severn Bridge [shocked at having to pay the expensive toll of £10] to Cardiff, where we had a camp-site in the centre of town next to the stadium where the Ashes cricket was being played. Of course the camp-site was full of rival Aussies and Brits, and we were lucky to even get a site. The walk into town was through a lovely garden alongside the river Taff.

We drove through the Brecon Beacons nature reserve, hoping to find a camp-site near Brecon, but they were all full. We then pushed on for a couple more hours to the coast, just north of Aberystwyth. The site was sloping so much we needed several wooden blocks to prop up the front wheels so that we didn't slide out of bed!

The campsite was called Ocean View, but we didn't think much of the view!

We explored the seafront promenade of Aberystwyth,



found a beautiful pub-front in town

and admired the war memorial with a lady arising from the ashes.

From there we visited Aberaeron, where the streets are lined with Georgian houses painted in pretty colours, which makes a pleasant change from all the grey and brown stone of so many British towns.


The goal was to sample the famous honey ice-cream on the quay, which was good!

We pushed north again, landing up in Porthmadog, and having to stay in a cheap, but crappy camp site, as the others were full. It was raining heavily by now and "cabin-fever" was starting to develop seriously. We couldn't wait to get to Scotland where a week in our friends' empty house with a clean, hot bath awaited us.

The next day found us in the walled town of Conwy on the north coast of Wales. After a rip-off pub lunch, we walked on the quayside in the sun and found the smallest house in Britain.




We didn't visit the castle, but were intrigued with this enormous crack in the town wall. Apparently when the Victorian engineers tunnelled under the wall to build the train line, it appeared, and in spite of the best engineering efforts has remained to this day!

We had a long, four hour drive to the Lake District, where we overnighted near Kendal. Here we decided to join the Camping and Caravan Club to save on site fees in future.

We headed for the nearby Windermere lake, stopping in Bowness-on-Windermere to look at the swans fighting each other off their cygnets.


Lots of holidaymakers about already and the English schools aren't even out yet! On the other side of the lake we visited Hilltop cottage, the home and garden of Beatrix Potter.

We almost caught a glimpse of Peter Rabbit under the flower pots!

Sandi took lots of photos of the flowers that Beatrix loved and grew in her garden.





We had to wait an hour for our timed-entry to the cottage, so what better way to kill time than to enjoy a pint of the local beer in the sun outside a cute pub, admiring the view?

We looked across the street to this house,

where we found "Mr Macgregor" basking in the sun.

The rain came down again, and we had another four hour drive to Livingston, where we had the luxury of Estralita and Bernie's house all to ourselves for the next week. How nice it is to have space, a clean bathroom and a modern kitchen in which to unwind. Even though the weather was unsettled for most of the time, it was wonderful to have the time to sort ourselves out, and catch up with the Travel blog; like a holiday within a holiday!

On Monday we met up with Francesca [Jeremy's neice] for coffee, and then explored Bath for the rest of the day on our own. The Georgian architecture, exemplified in the magnificent Royal Crescent, is quite stunning. Two renowned architects of the 18th century, John Woods Elder and Younger, designed all the Palladian-style fronts of most of the buildings in Bath, so there is a grand uniformity. Each house owner was then left to design the rear of their house, so these vary enormously.


Bath Abbey is the focal point of the town and is right next to the Roman Baths.



The Pulteney Bridge crossing the river Avon, is lined with shops.

We were camping 30 minutes from Bath near Lacock Abbey, which we explored the next day.


We discovered that one of the Harry Potter movies used one of these rooms in the film.

The ceilings of the cloisters

are covered in a fascinating variety of bosses, like this one showing a fish swallowing a goat!

The Abbey also has extensive gardens

and grounds in which we found this tree: could it be an "arthritis tree"?

Lacock is a very pretty village


and has a museum displaying the earliest cameras and the first negative-positive photographs, developed by William Talbot, a resident of Lacock.

In the afternoon we went off to nearby Avebury, which is a much larger circle, of smaller stones, than Stonehenge, 27 km away.





Even part of the village is within the stone circle.

The whole circle is surrounded by a deep ditch and an embankment

We went back into Bath for an evening street comedy tour called BizarreBath, which was supposed to be the highlight of any visit to Bath, but was expensive and disappointing.

Next day we explored Bradford-on-Avon and enjoyed a 2-hour trip on the Kennet-and-Avon canal in a canal boat.

Many people live permanently on the river in houseboats

and carry everything on the roof, including firewood and the kitchen sink!

Someone made creative use of old teapots in which to plant their garden!

On the way back we stopped for ice-cream cones at an Ice cream boat.

Going through a manual lock is a leisurely activity.

Then it was time to head into Wales for a week.

On Sunday 5th July David's cousin, Chris Nye, at the request of Pierre, had arranged a gathering of the Nye clan at his new home in Colerne, a tiny village near Bath. Molly, our GPS, in her wisdom took us up a long, steep and very narrow road,which was hair-raising especially when faced with oncoming cars. It was great to see all David's English cousins [Michael, Mary, Chris, Ebu and Judy] with their kids and partners. Michael [senior] drove all the way up from Devon, where his yacht is anchored. Pierre and Michele and Jonty were in the UK on a 3 week holiday to visit Michael [junior].
Chris and his new partner, Eileen

Here they are with Tamar [Michael's daughter]

Chris' 4 kids with 2 of their partners, Jenny [Sam's wife] and Rachel [engaged to Jake]: Jenny, Seb, Miriam, Sam, Jake and Rachel

Mary, now married to Bill

Ebu, Bill, Michael and Mary

Judy, Michael and Mary

Pierre having a discourse with Jeremy

Jonty and Michael [who is doing his gap-year at an English school in the Midlands]

Sam with his sister, Miriam, and his wife Jenny in front

Chatting on the lawn [unfortunately Anna and Michele have their backs to the camera]

Mary's daughter, Anna, with her husband, Dominique

Us with Judy

We were blessed with sunny weather until 5pm when the rain came down and we went in to watch Federer take the Wimbledon title in a gripping match.

After recouping our energies with a good night's sleep after the Solstice, we headed down south, stopping at Winchester on the way. David was convinced the cathedral tour was only £2, having visited before, but on discovering that it was over £6 each we decided to browse the quaint city centre instead.


We found a nice camp-site on the river Arun, between Arundel and the sea, although we were annoyed at having to pay for showers again. We met another camper who was taking his three ferrets on holiday.


Chichester Cathedral was interesting, especially these ornate water spouts to drain water off the roof.


While on a tour [a free one!] of the inside of the cathedral, David felt as if the plug had been pulled and his legs wanted to give way. Worried that this was a rapid onset of old age, we sat on the grass outside for a while. On the way to Forest Row to see Jonathan and Andrea Shopley, the fever started and he realised that he had caught another bug! Jonathan made a delicious barbeque, but sitting outside just accentuated the rigors. Here is their gorgeous dog, Griff.

The next day the long anticipated weekend with the Lilleys arrived at last! We met Paddy and David Lilley in Tunbridge Wells, but instead of touring the Helios homeopathic pharmacy as planned, Dave swallowed Disprins [in the midst of all the homeopathic meds] to stop the teeth chattering and to enable him to drive down to Hastings. The homeopathic remedies that David L had prescribed started to work, but it was a week before he fully recovered.

We rented a static caravan for the weekend with the Lilleys. It was situated in a lovely wooded holiday park called Beauport, near Hastings.

The wooden deck was covered in potted fuschias and vegetables, and although the caravan had cardboard walls [there was no escaping David's diarrhoea!] and the bedrooms were hardly bigger than the beds, it was comfortable and clean. The next day we wandered about the very quaint, old village of Rye with its cobbled streets



and stopped for a pint at the Mermaid's Inn [built in 1420 and notorious for its smuggling history].



The beachfront at Hastings was very busy, full of people from "the other side of the railway line", and rather tacky. These wooden net shops, where the fishermen hang their nets to dry, are unique to Hastings.

Back at the caravan, Sandi made one of her now famous seafood chowders for dinner. Here is David Lilley expressing delight at the chowder!

Breakfast next morning was enjoyed out in the sun...

The weather was lovely and hot and thus ideal for walking along the seafronts of Bexhill and Eastbourne, which were both far quieter and nicer than Hastings.


We met a delightful old lady on Bexhill promenade, who after extolling the virtues of living in Bexhill, offered to take this photo of the four of us.

Eastbourne has a long seaside promenade along its extensive beach,


and like Brighton, has a wonderful old Victorian Pier, which sadly has seen grander days.

We met another homeopath, Moira, for lunch at the Golden Galleon near Seaford, after which we enjoyed the walk to the shingle "beach", marvelled at the white chalky cliffs of the Seven Sisters,

then walked back through fields full of bunnies, dandelions, thistles and blackberries [abuzz with bumblebees].




Sadly, it was soon time to bid the Lilleys farewell, but not before we had each had an osteopathic adjustment to our desperate spines.

Our next stop was a camp-site near West Wittering beach. The beach was a 20 minute walk away, but at low tide it took another 5 minutes to reach the water as the beach was so wide! It is a Blue flag beach with lovely fine sand, just like at home. The water was warm and only lacked waves - at last a proper beach in the UK! We now found ourselves in the middle of a "heatwave" - temperatures of 28-30 deg and the BBC full of warnings about what not to do!

These Hypericum blossoms seem to thrive in the heat.

After 3 days at W Wittering we moved to South Lytchett Manor near Poole, which was a very full campsite. We were given a voucher for a free bottle of wine at a nearby pub, of which we took full advantage. We browsed the Saturday street market in Poole, and drove along Sandbanks, a peninsula of supposedly the most expensive real estate in England.

When we arrived at Ebu, it was early evening with still a few hours of light ahead, so we decided to try to find the lane of cherries again that David and Ebu had happened upon 2 years previously. We found the lane, and the black cherries were ripe for the picking! We munched and picked happily for the next hour, taking bagsful home.

We spent Saturday night at cousin Judy and Rob's, in Ebford, eagerly anticipating the Stonehenge adventure ahead the next day with Judy, Ebu, and the Druids. Unfortunately Judy developed gastro with severe leg cramps, so was unable to come with us. So, after a late supper with cousin Ebu and Jeremy, the excited trio, Ebu, Sandi and David set off for Stonehenge in the van, in the advancing dusk. At registration, we discovered that Jonathan, Judy’s son who had invited us, had arranged for David and Sandi to be banner bearers - an exciting honour to be so close to the "action". This meant wearing white robes and receiving instruction [“don’t stab anyone in the backside with the banner point when going through the tunnel”, etc].

At 11.45 pm we all gathered in the car park, before setting off in solemn procession for the Midnight ceremony; the Druids in single file led by the sword bearer, followed by the invited guests. There were about 50 Druids and 30 guests, which made the whole celebration intimate, since there were 34,000 people at the public gathering the night before! We marched along a path in silence for about 30 minutes to a special mound.

We were supposed to be meditating as we walked, but this proved impossible as we tried to avoid stones and holes in the dark! The sky was overcast, windless and there was no moon. At the mound the Druids formed an inner circle and the guests formed the outer circle. The Chief Druid spoke about various issues, as well as a short guided meditation. This ceremony was meant to reflect the autumn and winter of our lives, but the solemnity of the occasion was interrupted by someone farting loudly, followed by another fainting! The skies cleared, the stars came out, and we walked back to base, where we had 90 minutes to rest before gathering for banner instruction. We decided that the best way to spend the time was by drinking No Caf and playing Scrabble in the van.

At 3.45 am we donned several layers of warm clothes, then our robes, raised the banner and walked in procession through the tunnel to the stone circles of Stonehenge for the Dawn ceremony. The sky was already light and with mist swirling all around us and the stones, it truly was a mystical experience [no pun intended].

We processed to the 4 points of the compass where items that represent the 4 elements - fire, water, earth and air - were collected.

The procession then entered the inner circle of stones, from the east, with everyone forming a circle. The Dawn ceremony which is meant to reflect spring, symbolising new beginnings, ended a few moments before the sunrise. It was incredible to feel the energy and warmth radiating from the stones themselves, even though the air was cold [and we expected the stones to be cold too].

Then the sun, a glowing red orb, rose up through the mist exactly over the Hele or Sunstone in the NE. As it got brighter and cleared the mist, its rays shone through the gap between the stones in the circle, falling on the Stone of Measurement. It was quite mesmerizing and very beautiful to watch. Unfortunately we could not take any photos as our hands were firmly attached to the banner throughout!

We proceeded back to the base park, arriving at 6.00 am, feeling incredibly energized and not sleepy at all! Ebu needed to get back home, but we banner bearers were expected back to participate in the High Noon ceremony. We drove back to Holton, had breakfast with Ebu, then headed back to Stonehenge. Jonathan, who was in charge of equipment, asked Sandi to decorate a fresh floral crown for one of the 2 maids, which was great fun.

A procession again formed at 12.00 noon, but with the inclusion of a Lady [one of 4 French visiting Druids from Brittany] bearing a horn of wine, accompanied by two Maids.

The procession was similar in its route around the periphery of Stonehenge to collect the 4 elements, but the difference here was that we were observed by hundreds of curious tourists, who were kept behind the usual barriers to the stones, by security guards. As we were carrying the banner immediately behind the Lady and her Maids, we had hundreds of cameras pointed at us. Our photographs have probably made it to the far corners of the Earth by now!

We then entered the inner circle of stones from the south for what was to be a 2 hour summer celebration.

By now it was really hot with the sun baking down on us. Amazingly, this time the stones felt cool! A long ceremony commenced, interspersed with a wreath of oak leaves being passed around from head to head, to show that all are equal in honour. The ceremony continued with a ritual sharing of the fruits of the summer harvest.

Then it was all over,

and we disbanded, disrobed and headed for a nearby campsite to shower and collapse in the van, the exhaustion finally catching up with us.

We learnt that the Druid Order is a revival of an ancient order founded in Oxford in 1245. It was reconstituted in 1717 from Druid groups existing in various parts of Brittany and the UK. It recognizes its origins in all systems, which express the 3 great traditions of Power, Wisdom and Love. It embodies 3 fundamental principles of wisdom: Obedience to the laws of Nature, effort for the welfare of humankind, and heroically enduring the unavoidable ills of life. It is concerned with the evolution of humanity in harmony with the Universe, using the techniques of meditation and ritual, following the path of the sun.

A few days later, while visiting Winchester Cathedral, we found a beautiful window decal depicting the sunrise through the stones at Stonehenge.

It now resides on the back window of our van, as a wonderful memory of that enchanting experience. In the mornings, on waking at dawn, looking out of the back window, there is the sun, rising through the oak trees, twinning with the Stonehenge sunrise decal. Stunning!

Finally, one Tuesday morning, the intrepid adventurers set forth in the van [which has eventually been named Mr Stubby] from Ebford. The curtains were hung, the cupboards were stocked and everything possible was battened down.

We spent a pleasant couple of hours in Newton Abbot, shopping and watching some Morris dancing in the town square

before continuing on to our selected campsite, Lemonford, in the nearby village of Bickington. It was a lovely spot, in a leafy valley, on the edge of Dartmoor, with good ablution blocks, and a peaceful air with a resident camp-kitty.

What could possibly go wrong? First, the electric hook-up cable that came with the van had the wrong fitting, but the kind owner lent us his. Then the owner decided to cut the grass all of the next day, which was irritating as David had decided to give Sandi's troublesome shoulder and neck a good massage every hour, to try to break the spasm ['twas beneficial, but didn't end up as hourly ministrations!]. The following day it poured, and started leaking copiously through the 2 back windows; all we could do was put down plastic shopping bags and soak the water up with our towels until they were all wet. We realised that we were paying £3/day for electricity, yet we were using our own gas to cook on! How silly is that? So we decided an electric hotplate was on the shopping list, as a matter of priority. The weather then improved and we could relax for the next couple of days.

After buying some silicone, we moved through Dartmoor to our next site near Tavistock, called Langstone Manor. Fortunately, we had really sunny weather so the leaky windows could be fixed, and the awning taken down and re-sealed. David, ever the intrepid handyman, did a stunning job on repairs. Sandi always seems to be packing and repacking.

Several bits and bobs that seem to need doing to the van crop up at regular intervals, allowing David to don his Heath Robinson hat and come up with creative, budget-conscious solutions. These inevitably provide Sandi with mirth-fuel. For example - a GREY shelf that needed reinforcing is now proudly held up by a LAVENDER lady's belt! Said belt was found in a thrift shop, with David insisting it was grey, and would be a good match. At least it only set us back 49 pence, and since it provides daily amusement - cheap at the price!

Don't mess with the cook!

The van trundles along the highways at a top speed of 60-65mph [even up to 70 on a good day!], but being diesel, is very noisy. Conversation above the decibels gets shorter and shorter! The radio works well, as long as the volume is turned up high enough above the noise. We enjoy tuning into the various BBC programmes - some are really funny, while others provide good general listening. Climbing hills can be a problem, proportionate to the gradient of the hill ahead; the steeper the hill, the slower we go [often down to 25mph]. As many of the country roads are narrow, the queues of cars pile up in the rearview mirror. It used to make David agitate, but as time goes on we have learned to laugh about it: C'est la vie! [or "tough"!]. As the van is 8' 6" wide, driving along these beautiful, dappled, leafy lanes is not as relaxing as one might expect. Trying to squeeze between an embankment or hedgerow on the left, and a large van, bus, or tractor careering around a blind corner on the right, is no fun for either of us. Sandi leans away from the hedgerow and shuts her eyes in case we collect a branch or hit the curb, and David leans away from the oncoming traffic, trying not to close his eyes, while still gripping the steering wheel! Somehow we've made it through everytime, but our necks are completely out. When we drive over bumps [of which there are many], invariably one of the large, super heavy, speakers at the back will bounce off its mounting and land on the bed, or one of the cupboards will pop open. If we brake sharply, all the food crates and gas barbeque slide ominously out of their storage tunnel towards us in the front. Try as we might, to batten down all known hatches, we never know what will come flying at us! Just like us, it's a work in progress.

We are realising that being in a campervan can also restrict one's mobility. Many car-parks have a 6' height restriction specifically to keep the likes of us out. As we are longer than most parking bays, we have to be careful where we park so as not to obstruct the traffic, or attract a double parking fee for using 2 bays. Also, if one is settled in a camp-site, one thinks twice before engaging in the "packing up and battening down" routine, so that one can go sightseeing or shopping. We envy those who also have a little Smartcar or scooter with which to runabout. We do intend to acquire a pair of bicycles later.

Our next camp-site, called Mena, is on a hill near Bodmin, in the very centre of Cornwall. During the 4 days camped there, we visited St Austell, and the pretty port of Fowey [pronounced Foy, as in joy, for those illiterati among you!].

We also shopped in Truro, and happened upon the Cathedral during a lunch-time organ recital, which at full blast gave David goosebumps, as an organ played at full blast is wont to do. Further down the peninsula we wandered around the Trellissic Gardens, just before closing time.

Foxgloves [Digitalis] seem to be in bloom everywhere

A fine specimen of an ancient tree in Trellissic gardens

We became comfortable with just "being", while letting go of the pressure to always be "doing" something. There is such a lot to see and do in Cornwall, of which we merely got a taste for now. The pace of life is slowing down, and it has become rather appealing to us. We sleep very comfortably in the 8' wide bed, and are often asleep by the time it gets dark at 10pm. In the mornings, by the time we have read our books, emailed, skyped and breakfasted it is often 11 or 12 noon. Now that we have bought an electric hotplate, we often cook outside under the van awning, or just under the sky. Ablution blocks vary considerably from rudimentary and mouldy, to very nice. Twice we have had to pay an extra 20 or 50p for a shower, but usually they are included in the site fee, which varies from £14-20/night, but can climb to £30/night in high season. Electrical hook up is an extra £3-4/night.

Here is a beautiful peony, of which Sandi is particularly fond, growing in cousin Judy's garden

Observing the behaviour of other campers can be a pastime in itself. Often we catch someone peering out of a caravan window at us, but they quickly pretend they weren't when we see them! We've seen only a few visitors from the EU; most campers seem to be British, either young couples in small tents or retired folk in large caravans or campervans. No-one has yet been seen in as unique a converted campervan as ours! David's favourite spectacle so far is that of an elderly woman with a cig hanging from the corner of her mouth, wearing bright orange bedsocks, ambling across the grass! [Wish we had a photo!]

We visited Lanhydrock near Bodmin, which was a really enjoyable and worthwhile excursion.

It is an enormous, 400 year old manor house, with over 50 rooms beautifully decorated with original period furniture, books and copious Victorian ornaments [including fresh fruit in the dining hall!] The contrast between the "above" and "below" stairs was striking, as was the enormous kitchen with its huge open range and leading into a warren of associated rooms: scullery, bakehouse, dry larder, fish larder, meat larder, dairy scullery, and finally the dairy, where elaborate puddings were chilled by spring water piped along grooves in the marble slabs. The Long Gallery is the great room of the house and is 35m long. The remarkable plaster ceiling, which displays 24 panels of Biblical stories, was created in 1642. The gardens were beautiful with views over the 400-acre estate.

We came across a tree that we thought was covered in thousands of white butterflies, only to find on closer inspection that it was a Cornus kousa tree.


On our return trip to Ebford, we stopped at Looe [pronunced Loo, as in poo] - merely because the name fascinated us. This is another enchanting little seaside village on the Cornish coast.


We bought a few different Cornish bottled beers and flat cider to take home, and some Cornish pasties to eat on the quay-side. Needing to wash the pasties down, we opened the cider, which tasted like a cross between fermented rubbing alcohol and poisonous herbal muti! Probably the first time we've not been able to finish a tipple!! Nearby we found Trago Mills, an enormous warren of old-fashioned-type departments in one store, complete with elderly shop assistants! It reminded us of how shops were in our childhoods, and we stocked up with odds and ends, as the prices were really good!

On our last day we set off in search of Rosa Eterna Distillery, which is the only billboard we saw during the whole trip that advertised a distillery. It was not clear where it was located, and after many miles of narrow, bumpy roads [Sandi’s neck took major strain], and asking several peasants for directions, we seemed to happen upon it in the absolute middle of nowhere.

It is a very modern distillery, and the security guard eventually let us in after conferring with the manager. The charming manager, Krasimir, who spoke some English, told us we were lucky, as it was his wedding anniversary! He spent the next 2 hours showing us, and allowing us to photograph, the whole process. The vans arrive with bags of roses, freshly picked. A good picker can pick about 20-30kg between 5am and 12am before the sun gets too hot and vaporizes the oil. S/he gets paid about 80 stotinki/kg [40 eurocents], whereas the farmer would get 2 leva/kg from the distillery. The bags are weighed, then stacked around the large alambics/stills.

When the distillation process is finished, the huge lid is winched up, with fragrant plumes of hot vapour billowing out, and the exhausted rose blossom [spent biomass] is washed out to the sump. We received the best full body steaming ever from our vantage point on a balcony above the steel stills!

The steel alambic is then hosed down

and 25 bags of roses [20kg each] are poured in

with 2500 litres of fresh mountain water from the River Leshnitsa nearby.

The distillery is sited near the water supply, rather than near the rose fields, as this is more economically viable.

This distillery is unique in that it combines 10% Rosa alba [a delicate white rose] with the pink Rosa damascena, to give a different quality and aroma oil and rose water.

The lids are fastened back into place

and the roses are boiled for 2 ½ hours.

The distillate goes through a condenser, as well as a special concentrator. The rose water that is produced is a triple concentrate, unlike most others, which are dilute in comparison. The final precious rose otto oil is collected in a Florentine vessel in a separate, secured room.

The oil is so precious there is even a padlock on the outlet pipe!

We were privileged to be allowed to view the Florentine [by Krasimir],

as it is not normally seen by outsider mortals, just as the fresh rose otto was coming through.
And although it was not possible to purchase any essential oil on-site, we were gifted with some glorious triple-distilled rose water [which Sandi is eking out and sharing with some lucky friends and family].

All in all, a totally thrilling and fulfilling experience!

Each hectare of rose fields can produce 4-5 tonnes of flowers per season, but organically cultivated Rosa damascena production is only about 2.5 tonnes per season. It takes 3.5-3.8 tonnes of rose blossom to produce 1kg of pure oil. Up to 5 tonnes is needed to produce 1 kg of rose otto, if the crop is poor. From the research we could glean it appears that the whole of Bulgaria has about 30-40 distilleries, which collectively produce about 1500kgs of oil per annum. A smaller distillery produces 10-20kg/season, and the larger ones up to 200kg. The wholesale price of the oil is about 6000€/kg, so we guestimate a large distillery can make about 1.2 million euros in a 3-4 week season.

Our next destination was a wine farm in Karlovo, but all we could find was a factory outlet in a metal container, where we bought a couple of bottles of very good wine for very little [about 4 leva each].

Plamen had contracted to take us to the station in Plovdiv, from where we could catch the train back to Sofia. Plovdiv is a large city, situated halfway between Kazanlak and Sofia. Having secured our train tickets, we battled our way back through the heavy traffic to the old part of the city. The star attraction of the old city is the Roman Amphitheatre, which was accidentally revealed after a landslide in the 1970s. It was built in the 2nd century AD by the Roman Emperor Trajan, and could hold 7000 spectators. It is well preserved and still used for performances today.

Wandering around the cobbled streets of the old city, we were struck by the large houses with elaborate architecture and decoration, most of which are now preserved as museums or restaurants.

As we were leaving Plondiv, walking down a steep cobbled lane and treading very carefully, with eyes cast down , I was struck by a heady, floral scent that suddenly filled the hot, still air, accompanied by a resonant and frenzied Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzing serenade. An unmistakable scent and sound combo, which meant there MUST be a Linden Blossom tree nearby. I looked up and there it was - with it's fragrant canopy and mellifluous Apis choir - almost touching my head! Memories of aromatic days spent in Provence, under the Linden trees, with beloved friend Janet, flooded my senses and emotions.

All too soon, it was time to catch our train and bid farewell to our new friends Plamen and Chan Yee. After the 2 ½ hour trip we arrived back in Sofia at 1930, exhausted. A notice board outside the station advertised a HOTEL, up the stairs. Going up we found the sign to read HOsTEL which was a bit of a dive, but clean and functional, besides we were too tired to argue. Sneaky advertising though. The station lights outside our window, shining through the thin curtains, ensured that the room was mega-watt bright all night, and the 4a.m. party that sprung up in the road outside added some mega decibels to our slumbers – interspersed only by Sandi’s hacking cough, which had developed in response to all the 2nd-hand smoke we encountered. After a desultory breakfast of Bulgarian salami, squashed apricots and flat Coke, we caught the shuttle back to the airport and flew home [well not exactly home, but Gatwick!] From there we rented a car for 24 hours to get us back to Exeter, as it proved to be cheaper than bus or train tickets!

After our beers, we met up with Chan Yee and Plamen and managed to get a table at a local restaurant for lunch. Here at least Plamen could explain the menu to us, in a fashion, but Sandi and Chan Yee still ended up with dishes they did not overly enjoy; baked white cheese with more cheese underneath!

We then set off for the nearby village of Shipka to visit the tomb of one of the great Thracian kings. Bulgaria contains many tombs and relics of the Thracian era, testament to the extensive power of the Thracian kings in the 3rd and 4th centuries BC. These mounds were first used as temples, then ritually closed up after the king was buried inside, together with personal gold ornaments and food and wine for the journey into the after-life. They all have similarities in structure; an entrance, leading into a passage, at the end of which were 2 heavy marble or stone doors, which led into a round chamber with a beehive roof, finally opening into a sarcophagus carved out of a solid piece of rock [often weighing up to 60 tons]. The tomb is solidly built of stone blocks, sometimes joined with iron clamps, and covered with a mound of earth. We noted marked similarities to the mounds of Knowth and Newgrange in Ireland, although those are much older.

This particular one had only been excavated in 2004, and was found to have belonged to King Seuthus lll. His capital city, Seuthopolis, lies several km to the south, submerged under the waters of the Koprinka dam. The ruins of the city were examined before the dam was filled, but there are plans afoot to dry a section of the dam in order to provide tourist access to the ruined city. Unusually, this tomb had been spared plunder by grave-robbers, and a bronze head of Seuthus, which had been ceremonially decapitated, was found in the tomb together with beautiful royal and equine gold ornaments.

The burnished gleam of golden spires halfway up the mountain, was our next destination; known as Shipka Monastery, which is actually a church. It was built by the Russians towards the end of the 19thC to commemorate the joint victory of the Russians and Bulgarians over the Islamic Turks. It is beautifully painted, inside and out, with the many domes and spires covered in real gold leaf, and is still in active use by the Orthodox Church today. At the very top, a gold cross stands above an inverted Muslim moon to symbolize their victory. Sandi lit a candle for all our loved ones, as she does in most of the holy places we visit.

On Monday, another hot day, Plamen took us in search of some top quality rose oil. The oil that is offered on the streets to tourists has either been diluted, or is fake, and most distilleries are not interested in selling anything less than a few kgs. Plamen’s contact at the Scientific Rose Institute said they could supply a small quantity, but we would first have to pay, then they would have to go to the bank to get it out of the vault! After allowing Sandi to assess its quality, they would take another 24 hours to decant and package it, before we could collect it. Sandi was not sold, so the search for the well-hidden, un-signposted distilleries, continued.

We eventually hit Rose Jackpot at a distillery called Damascena, at the foot of the Balkan Mountains.

It is a family-run distillery producing about 200kg of oil per season. Alongside an outdoor museum displaying traditional distillation equipment and some rural antiquities, the owner boasts the most beautiful rose garden imaginable, crammed with voluptuous, hybrid tea roses, but not a Damascena rose bush in sight, or on site! Not unusual, since rose fields can be some distance from the actual distilleries.

We had a "nose” around the distillation shed for a little while before meeting the owner.

After a happy sniff test, he was willing to sell Sandi a modest amount of divine rose otto oil.

As rose oil freezes and crystallizes at 17deg

his son went inside to warm the crystalline oil so that it could be decanted.

The owner kindly brought an electronic scale outside and set it up on the ice-cream countertop and drew up the exact amount under Sandi’s watchful eyes. He allowed us to photograph the event, while decanting it into an aluminium container on the scale, before closing it, winding a three-coloured silky cord around the neck, and finally sealing it with hot sealing wax and his personal ring seal.


Mission accomplished!

Later that day we decided to take in the remaining tourist must-dos in Kazanlak. We visited the Iskra Museum full of famous socialist art by Bulgarian artists, and relics from the tomb of Seuthus lll. Further up the road we found the modest Ethnographic museum, which displayed local living conditions in a bye-gone era. We were intrigued by the low chairs, and even lower table, which ensures that peasants don't need to eat much, because the seating position squashes the stomach, ensuring that one feels fuller than if sitting on chairs that are lower than a table.

We sat up on a balcony overlooking a small garden and wood-fired still pouring out fragrant rose water,

and were given some rose brandy and rose jam to taste.

The Kazanlak Tomb up on the hill, was unearthed by soldiers digging trenches in 1944, and is famous for its detailed frescoes on the walls and ceilings. Unfortunately the original tomb is too fragile to allow visitors, so a replica has been constructed nearby. Sandi found a friendly kitty to cuddle on the steps, which was far more exciting!

Although ¼ of Bulgaria is covered in forests, the Valley of the Roses is a fertile, cultivated valley between the Balkan mountains and the Sredno Gora mountains. Here the Rosa damascena has been cultivated in the perfect combination of climate and soil for 350 years. Small villages are scattered between random rose, lavender, chamomile, wheat and potato fields. The two rural towns of Kazanlak and Karlovo form the focal points for the Rose Festival, held on the 1st weekend in June [brought forward this year because of elections] to celebrate the start of the rose-picking season – about 20-30 days in total !!!.

Rosa damascena blossoms

Rosa alba

The contrast between the air of decay in the town of Kazanlak and the beauty of the valley, surrounded by mountains, is stark. Even more of a contrast exists with the energy and essence of the precious Rose Otto oil, which derives from the flowers of the valley.

Something that struck us is how shy and unassuming the Damascena rose blossoms, bushes, and whole plantations appear, relative to the exquisite and precious bounty found within each blossom.

Sandi in ecstacy in the rose fields

The few other roses we saw in Bulgaria were much more glamorous and spectacular,

or exquisitely simple,

but none compare in fragrance to their delicate little pink sibling.

Rosa damascena and buds

Smelling the first heady molecules of Rose Otto in a field distillery, right in the very place where the alchemy emerges, is like finding the Holy Grail. There are no words to describe adequately the overwhelming olfactory and emotional sensation of this experience.

On the Saturday, we browsed the street stalls, all selling the same garish, mostly synthetic, rose creams, soaps and candles, etc. There were surprisingly few tourists around, possibly because the weather was gloomy, but also likely due to the change in the usual festival date this year. We spent an amusing hour in a theatre watching a children’s singing “contest”.

Talent show children on stage

A string of 3-6 year-olds each belted out traditional songs with gusto. It was delightfully un-sophisticated, and each child was given a packet of crisps, a pencil, and a balloon after singing. Another striking contrast, compared to many other Western “talent” shows and pageants.

As we were now hungry we found a promising looking restaurant with outside tables [far too smoky indoors]. The menu was all in Bulgarian, with no pictures! The waiter could speak no English either except to say “beans”, so we ended up with two bowls of bean soup and a bowl of French fries instead of the delicious looking fried potato dish at the next table. The beers were easy: there were pictures of the brands.

Kamenitza beer

We then wandered up towards the edge of town past dreary buildings and ubiquitous potholes,

but there was one lovely cottage we couldn't resist capturing,

and a charming gypsy pony and cart.

Arriving at the government Rose Institute and Rose Museum we expected something quite grand, but the Institute building is very modest and austere, and the museum interesting, but simple.

Entrance to the Rose Institute

Rose Institute

Ancient lab equipment in Rose Museum

Photo of 1st Bulgarian chemistry lab for rose oil testing at Rose Museum

The Rose Institute gardens were rather lovely, filled with fragrant damascena blossoms

Rosa damascena blossom and seed-catching bag

Tarragon

Glamorous rose, but no fragrance

Exquisite simple rose

David and the "shaggy-dog" tree

We got into a fragrant mood by going into the rose fields and picking a few damascena blossoms, which we stuffed into our pockets and later dried.

Sandi among Rosa Damascena bushes

Dave and Rosa alba

We found our way back into town via a large flea market, selling anything and everything including varieties of Turkish delight, which of course, we had to buy to taste. One absolutely delightful, but sad, sight was a children's carousel, complete with live ponies rather than the painted Merry-Go-Round variety.

Kazanlak Carousel

The town square was set up with a stage, lights and seating stands for a concert that evening. Just as the show started the rain came down, so we took shelter under the open-air awning of a nearby Bistro, from where we could still see the stage, as the show continued. Within minutes, the skies opened and the deluge of rain turned to hail the size of cherries.

Hailstones on table

The wind whipped through the square like a tornado, flinging seats, lighting stands, giant umbrellas, and shelters to the ground! The stage décor was shredded. Several others, like us, were trapped under the awning, so we stood on the tables under our destroyed umbrella, to no avail!

No place to hide!

The storm was so ferocious and unexpected, we couldn’t move anywhere, let alone indoors, to seek shelter from it. Within minutes the gutters [under the awning for some reason], burst their banks and we were totally drenched, standing in ankle-deep water, unable to dodge the deluge of hailstones that struck us from every direction. We could do nothing except laugh…..hysterically!

Sandi after the storm

Within 20 minutes the skies cleared and we surveyed the devastation; flowerbeds were annihilated and torrents of water coursed through the square.

The devastation to the festival venue after the hail storm

“What about the roses” we thought, wondering whether any blossoms would survive for the Festival the next day, but they did. Since the concert was clearly abandoned, we called Plamen for a lift home, picked up a take-away donner kebab for supper, and waited for him, like two drowned rats, at the Lion Fountain, a well-loved landmark which promises anyone who drinks from it that they will return to Kazanlak one day.

The Lion drinking fountain in the central square

Back at Villa Breza Sandi had to iron her jeans dry, as we had packed so economically, and we both wore squelchy shoes with double socks that night when we returned to the square, and the next day. The show started up again later, goodness knows how they got the sound equipment and stage functioning again, but we missed the eventual crowning of the Rose Queen [which a fellow guest said was not a big deal event, and we would see her and the princesses the next day anyway].

The Rose Queen and her Princesses

We met 2 other special people that evening [also guests at the villa]; Chan Yee, a lovely lady from South Korea, who travels the world sourcing quality essential oils for her company, and Gonsalo from Chile.

Gonsalo could hardly speak 2 words of English, but had come to learn how to grow and distil roses from the Bulgarians [who also don’t speak English!] He is a marine biologist with a keen interest in whales, who has planted 40 hectares of very special, high-yield Damascena roses on his farm in Chile, and now that they were ready for harvesting, he needed to learn from the Bulgarian rose oil experts. We opened some Bulgarian wine and marvelled as Sandi had a fascinating metaphysical discussion with him, into the wee hours, all via Chan Yee who was translating into Spanish.

Sunday was a beautiful, sunny day and Plamen agreed to drop us near the Rose festivities. The centre of town was closed off for the parade later, so we had to make our way through a maze of back streets, skirting enormous potholes and driving over pavements. Rules and regulations don’t seem to exist in Bulgaria! [never mind Health & Safety!].

The festivities took place in a car park next to some rose fields.

The man and woman leading the festivities

There was a crowd of only about 150 people and we had a front line view, until the dignitaries and their guests arrived to stand in front of us [many Asian men, probably on rose oil buying trips]. There were more dignitaries than tourists!! Burly Bulgarian police kept the rabble back, behind flimsy bunting cordons, but they were probably more useful in ensuring that we did not get to throttle the “dignitaries” blocking everyone else’s view of the festivities! The hoi-poloi were each given a rose blossom garland/lei, a ceremonial hunk of bread, and a sip of rose liqueur on arrival.

Offering the celbrities bread and rose liqueur

A group of Bulgarian men in traditional sang beautiful harmonies for us, followed by costumed children dancing traditional routines.

The wonderful baritone male choir

A group of traditional dancers and singers

Older women, also in traditional garb, with creatively decorated baskets full of roses, handed out rose flowers,

A festive rose-picker

Sandi is so tall next to this delightful, toothless lady

Tired after filling all those baskets!

Spraying cool rose water over everyone

A young couple

A wagon full of kids

Festival kids

Crowns of roses

A chat with a pony

Festive pony and cart

Then the barriers were removed, and everyone could join in the circle dancing, and received bread and liqueur.

People were allowed to wander through the fields picking their own roses [and Sandi disappeared for ages, emerging with bulging, blooming pockets.]

Sandi in her element!

Hands full of aroma

As the crowd slowly dispersed, the gypsies, who had just finished the serious rose picking nearby, came gaily forward for the free liqueur.

The real rose pickers have an unglamorous job, away from the festivities

The peasant pickers weighing their bags

A wagon full of roses

Back in town, the street parade was starting, but here the crowds were so dense it was impossible to see anything. The little bit that David could see was not very interesting, so we settled for some chilled Zornitsa beers, in the shade, instead.

Let’s start with the alphabet which is Cyrillic, like Russian and Serbian. If you master the alphabet then at least you can read place names and don’t feel quite so lost.

A = а or ъ
B = б or B
C = ц [TS sound]
D = д
E = е
F = ф
G = г
H = х
I = и
J = д ж [DZH sound]
K = к
L & LL = л
M = м
N = н
O = о
P = п
Q = kyuh
R = р
S = с
T = т
U = у or ю
V & W = B
Y = ю
Z = з
Ch = y
Sh = щ
Ya = Я
Zh = ж

Thus Sofia would be CoфиЯ
Hallo is здpaBeи [pronounced Zdravei]
Goodnight is лeka нoщ [sounds like lekker nosh]
Thank you is mepcu [pronounced merci, just like French!]

More than that will take you hours to learn!