And the Travel Sic Award for Best City In The World Goes To.....Chicago

Chicago skyline

 

 

Everything about Chicago is amazing. Everything. I sound like someone blinded by love, and rendered inarticulate, but don't worry, I am going to go on for hours about why this city is so fab.

Chicago has the third biggest art collection in the US, the second biggest airport, and the eighth tallest building in the world. It used to be the biggest port (impressive for an inland city), have the biggest post office, and make the most TV shows and films. Are you getting the picture? It isn't really the best or biggest at anything anymore. But this is why I love Chicago. It doesn't care. It just wants to be the best it can be, and it definitely is. It is the most inward looking city I have ever visited, a city more concerned with its residents and visitors than how the rest of the world perceives it.

So what's so nice about it? Well, you can't really talk about Chicago without mentioning the skyline. What a scene: a total melting pot of architectural styles from the last hundred years. Chicago was almost decimated by a fire in 1871 and used this opportunity to rebuild the city, and like a Phoenix out of the flames, Chicago soared up and up. This vast city invented skyscrapers, but not to the detriment of the residents or the beauty of the city. Since skyscrapers were first built, city laws have used these vast buildings to its benefit: for example, private buildings are not allowed to build on the waterfront unless they also build a public waterfront walkway for pedestals, and as a result Chicago has miles of gorgeous waterfront paths. We took a river cruise which explained the background of Chicago's architecture, our guide was a volunteer who spoke breathlessly for 90 minutes with great knowledge and enthusiasm. She is just one of several volunteer guides we encountered during our stay, it seems Chicagoans love their city so much they will help visitors to appreciate it for free. I find that refreshing and encouraging.

Back on the ground, the streets of Chicago can be a little dark, in the shade of these monstrous buildings. I read a great description about dark shadowy streets, punctuated by the machine gun roar of the L train, and this is fairly accurate (although it does pain me to write anything even slightly negative about this amazing transport system). To help brighten these streets up, Chicago has commissioned huge, unique artwork from artists such as Picasso. This is taken to the extreme in Millennium Park, one of several public parks. The artworks here include a huge glass brick skyscraper fountain, with the faces of local people projected on it, and of course, Cloud Gate. Cloud Gate is a giant bean, weighing over 100 tonnes, made of silver, which vibrantly reflects both the skyline, and the people looking at it. It puts you in Chicago, which funnily enough is exactly what Chicago is all about. It is a human city, the most human city I've ever been to. It is about human endeavour (it's motto is 'I Will') and human achievements (look upfor evidence of these) and human beauty (the art is something even I can appreciate) and just living (seen in my beloved L train, the easiest transport invented!). The bean is something everyone can love and appreciate, and for everyone it reflects different things, exactly like Chicago. It is literally the best art I have ever seen.

 

Cloud Gate

 

 

So why else is Chicago amazing? The culture here is second to none. Vibrant blues clubs still rock every night of the week (we spent a glorious night watching Mary 'if you like me buy a CD, if you don't, hell, buy one an'way' Jane and her blues band), there is a wonderful art gallery, and too many museums to mention. It also has one of the oldest and coolest cinemas, out in the suburbs. All the films are about four months old, you enter down a tattered red carpet, there are no adverts, and the leather chairs recline. Now you wouldn't find that in New York!

 

Buddy Guy's Legends Club

 

Of all the museums in Chicago, we especially enjoyed the Field Museum, home to Sue, the most complete Tyrannosaur ever found (and found by a woman, called Sue!). We learnt loads at this museum thanks to our excellent tour guide, who, in her real job, was an advertising exec, (anyone know that you date a T-Rex the same way you date a tree? Count the rings on its ribs!). And best of all McDonalds had helped to pay for Sue to be in Chicago, so there was a McDonalds at the museum!!

Of course, what really makes a city is its food. Chicago invented the pizza pie. Yes, this is a pie made of pizza. Yum! We took on a woman vs food style challenge and bravely ordered a small Chicago pizza pie to share. We epically failed, not even managing a quarter of it. I carried the rest of it home, and had to to stop for a breather, a pizza pie would make a pretty decent weapon if thrown or dropped.

But perhaps the biggest reason why Chicago is the 2013 Travel Sic Best City in the World, is the toilets. Well, one toilet in particular. Like many sky scrapers, the Hancock Building has an observation deck you can pay to go up. It also has a free cocktail bar. 'Ha' we thought, 'we're not mugs, we'll go up to the cocktail deck and spend our entry fee on a drink!' But after an extensive queue to get in, we were sorry to see that a) we were nowhere near a window, b) the rest of the Western Hemisphere had had the same idea, and c) it had taken so long to get up there that the sky had gone dark, and the cocktail bar faces the lake, so we could see nothing. Dejected I headed for a free wee (when you're a traveller you take them wherever you can get them!) and was hit by the most impressive view I have ever seen. The whole skyline of Chicago spread before me in shimmering light. I was so awestruck walked straight into a toilet door. Who needs sky decks when you can take a wee with his view? And that, Chicago, is why you are the best city in the world!

 

Best loo with a view 2012

 

 

 

Hippies to Hollywood (with some more giants): speeding down the Californian Coast

There are some myths about the Californian coast, which I"m going to do my best to expel in this blog (Please note, more seasoned travellers and more humorous writers than I have probably already debunked these myths, but it was all a surprise to the Photgrapher and I, so I thought I'd share them.)

1) San Francisco is the best city in the world

The Photographer and I spent some considerable time debating this question. We've been to NYC, Sydney, Cape Town, Edinburgh, Rome, Melbourne, London, Paris, and of course the ever fantastic Manchester, and we decided on night two in SF that we rated all these above SF. We were promised quaint beauty at Fisherman's Wharf, but found a tackier version of Blackpool; the throbbing energy we expected in the area around Union Square carried an undertone of sinister danger in all the hooded characters lurking in the alleyways; and don't get me started on the city's answer to Central Park. The Golden Gate park is a) misleadingly far away from its namesake, and b) crap. South Park in Macclesfield is better (a park should have two or more of the following: swings, mini golf, a tennis court, a lake and a rickety obstacle course, Macc has all of these, GGP has one!). This said, the twin attractions of Alcatraz and the Golden Gate bridge cannot be exaggerated. We cycled over Golden Gate Bridge, as terrifying an experience as I have ever had on a bike, trying to negotiate the dual obstacles of the wind and daft pedestrians was quite exhilarating!

On day three we decided to bin our two guidebooks and look out our emails of countless recommendations from friends who had visited or lived here. And the same names kept coming up: Mission, North Beach, Castro. Off we set, and we found it, that thing which makes puts SF in contention for the highly rated Travel Sic Best City award. These areas are the city's beating heart: culture, music, food, history, books, art and above all, the people who moved here over the last hundred years and made this amazing place the melting pot that it is. Stand at the famous City Lights book store (which is, by the way, officially the Tavel Sic Best Bookshop in the World), and you feel like you're at some kind of metaphorical SF crossroads: China town to your left, North Beach and Little Italy behind you, the financial district in front of you, and the long, seedy road back to Fisherman's Wharf and tourist central to your right. And all these different elements of the City come together every Friday at the AT&T stadium to watch the Giants. I won't bore you with the ins and outs of baseball (mostly because even after reading about it and spending hours watching it, they are still a mystery to me) but what I will say is the culture of the baseball stadium is lovely. On our way in we were told that if this was our first time we could qualify for a certificate! Imagine, not been shouted at for being a game tourist, a glory hunter or a member of the prawn sandwich brigade, imagine actually having your ignorance celebrated. But perhaps my most favourite thing of all is the 7th Inning Stretch, where, after six innings of not a whole lot of action, everyone is encouraged to spontaneously stand and stretch to some music. And everyone does! Ever seen 22,000 people stretch simultaneously? It's hilarious!!

Travel Sic best bookshop in the world! Home of the 'Beat' movement

AT&T stadium. A boat sits in the harbour waiting to film balls which get hit into the water! 

(Like I said, not much action in baseball!)

2) Monterey: playground of the rich, with beautiful views and a great aquarium for the plebs

Well, the middle one may be true, but the Monterey peninsular is also shrouded in fog the majority of the year, so not many people get a chance to find that out! What I will say is that the peninsular in fog, is in itself, a quite remarkable site. It seems even more rugged and wild, and if I was writing a guidebook I'd put 'See the 17 mile drive in fog' as a top tip, just so that everyone who is lucky enough to do it in sun feels like they are missing out!

Monterey, misty but wonderful

We found out another cool thing about Monterey: it loves its jazz! Every year it holds the world's longest running jazz festival, where world famous jazz legends perform, along with new local talent. As a result of this regional enthusiasm some pretty special school bands have grown up in the area, and every year the jazz festival pays for professionals to go round the schools, pick the most promising musical kids and train them up all summer, to perform at the festival. This has led to a real respect within the local community for jazz and the institution of the festival.

And the jazz festival itself... imagine a music festival with less overcrowding, flushing loos, no drunken people and recycling, sound like a more pleasant experience? Well it is! This music festival actually hires someone to stand by the nine different bins and explain which one you should use. A festival with a conscience. And the music is mind blowing (although towards the end of the headline set The Photographer leaned in and asked me whether they had finished tuning up yet). Monterey impressed us so much we didn't even have chance to make it to the infamous aquarium, we'll have to go back!



3) Big Sur is the best drive in the world

As far as I can tell there are only three types of Big Sur fans: hippies, elephant seals and guide book writers. Enough said.

Big Sur loved by hippies and seals alike

4) Hollywood is glamorous

'One thing I will say is don't touch the ground in Hollywood' our tour guide said as we stepped off the bus. I can understand why. In comparison with the incredibly rich districts of Bel Air, Beverley Hills, Malibu, and Loz Felis, Hollywood is manky. Everything looks faded, tatty, knackered. Even the palm trees which line the side of the road are worryingly malnourished, And there is a weird fascination with human failure. We had pointed out to us the places of Mel Gibson and George Michael's arrests; River Phoenix and John Belushi's deaths; Kelly Osbourne's drug indiscretions, and even, gleefully, that the historic Kodak theatre, home of the Oscars, had been renamed the Dolby theatre because Kodak had gone into administration. Yay, now I feel really good about the world.

LA: lovely smog!

And LA itself is a weird place. The best way I can demonstrate this is to say that no one normal lives there. You know, no one with a normal job, or children they take to school, or normal hobbies. Everyone is for show. In Malibu fifty odd surfers gather every day, but not to surf. The Malibu sea is too calm. They just put on wetsuits and sit in the sea. Weird. We even saw a homeless man who, instead of a dog, had two bright parrots. Only in LA.

But what if I told you that 7 miles south of Malibu is a spot, so scenic that Baywatch was filmed there, so historic that one of the oldest Californian piers is still there, but so old school that its Downtown Main Street only has independent shops and restaurants? It's true. This place is Santa Monica, slightly set apart from the craziness of LA, and a really nice, and comparably normal place.



So, coastal California, full of well known preconceptions, which I have just inarticulately debunked. But also full of hidden treasures: the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra who give free performances; bubble gum ally in San Luis Opisbo; the crazy and amazing Museum of Slot Machines at Fisherman's Wharf; everything in quaint Santa Barbara; and Clint Eastwood's bass playing son - a veteran of the jazz festival. Now that is celebrity. Oh, and one other thing, they make all their bread with egg in California. Weird!

Ghosts and Giants but no Bears: California's Sierra Nevada National Parks

 In a rare poetic moment the Photographer described Yosemite National Park as the leftover scene of a giant's battle: 'Look, where they threw Half Dome.' It does feel a bit like that, it has an enormous quality which is almost too big to grasp, both because it is so old and because it is so huge.

The awe inspiring qualities of California's National Parks are well documented, and that is why they are so damn busy! Here are my tips to enjoying the parks without the crowds:


1) Choose a campsite which has recently suffered from a major health scare and bad press on an international scale.

We stayed at Camp Curry, which is very concerned with your well being when it comes to bears. Thus you have to lock all your smelly possessions, including empty water bottles and razors (who knew, bears shaved!) in a bear box outside your tent. The bear box has tiny holes, just small enough for a mouse to get in and do a poo. Mice poo carries hantavirus, perhaps a disease some of you may have come across recently on the news. A disease which killed four travellers who stayed at Camp Curry a month ago. We didn't see a single bear in Yosemite, and in Canada, where there are definitely bears (I know, I saw them), the boot of the car was perfectly adequate for smelly goods. Whilst at Camp Curry we overheard two girls (also from Yorkshire, that's how we could understand them) say that all the food from their bear box had been eaten by mice, and ask if it was ok to use their toiletries. Oh yes, they were told, which is contrary to all health advice. One has to wonder if perhaps Camp Curry are worrying about the wrong furry animals.

That said, Camp Curry is very efficient and well oiled machine. Fatal diseases aside, our tent was lovely; the food requirements of over 500 accommodations are more than adequately met by the pizzeria, coffee shop, grill and buffet; and the showers were always clean. You also can't put a price on the location of Curry, it's in the heart of the valley, in the shadow of Half Dome. Every evening as we were walking to tea we saw the Dome change from white to pink as the sun set, and every morning, on the way to the shower, we caught the curtain of dusk lifting slowly across the valley as the sun rose and coated everything in orange light. It was like watching a picture being coloured in.

Half Dome in half light

2) Don't be afraid of early mornings and hard work

Amongst the best sites in Yosemite are its waterfalls. Arriving after a dry summer meant most of these were dry, and those which still had some power, were busy. We got up very early (no real chore when you have that view waiting) and walked up to Vernal Falls, it's steep, but we were at the top by 9.30, in time to watch the sun bathe the valley below in glorious light. And we were the only people there. From Vernal it is possible to climb higher to another waterfall, (Nevada) giving even more impressive views. We were there by 11, beating the crowds, and almost beating the California sun.

And the early start and steep hike was worth it: the waterfalls were far more impressive than the more famous Bridal falls - which allegedly doesn't dry up. From my vantage point, at the bottom of this fall two days later, I saw a bit of spray come over the top and could almost feel the waterfall's embarrassed blushes beating off the dry red rocks at the bottom: the spray didn't even make it half way down! However, after our experiences with rain earlier in the trip, the Photographer and I weren't complaining about the lack of water in Yosemite!

Views worth a hike

We also visited Glacier point, for amazing valley views of Half Done, and any flowing waterfalls. We fled after four coach parties arrived and climbed nearby Sentinel Hill, this steep mile climb gives 360 degree views of the whole of Yosemite, and again, leaves the thong wearing, hd video camera toting masses behind.

3) Visit other parks

Yosemite is not the only park, Kings Canyon and Sequoia Parks (one fee for both) are outstandingly beautiful and considerably less crowded. Grant Grove, in King's Canyon is one of the most stunningly located campsites that we have ever encountered. The rustic (Lonely Planet describes them as decrepit!) log cabins are surrounded by huge sequoia trees, which stretch heavenwards, only stopping to let the stars in. Being within arms length of a family of mule deers on the way to the shower block the next day was also a real highlight. My advice: stay long enough to see General Grant tree, the third largest tree in the world, by this point, if you are anything like the Photographer, even Bambi himself will not be enough to make the coin operated showers worth it!

4) Leave Yosemite

Outside Yosemite, at the end of the Tioga Pass, is a an area called the Mono Basin, which calls itself the gateway to Yosemite. We wondered if Yosemite should consider calling itself the gateway to Mono! Mono Lake is worth at least a look, it has unusually high sodium levels which result in the growth of huge salt pillars called tufas. Combine these eerie columns with a clinging smell of sulphur (eggy farts) and swarms of black flies and you have a rather biblical picture. The lake itself is deadly still. If this isn't ghostly enough, head up the road to Bodie, an old gold town. Bodie was a thriving (if somewhat dangerous) town at the end of the 1800s, but as the gold dried up and two big fires destroyed many buildings the community started to dissipate and by the 1930s, everyone had upped and left, literally, leaving unwashed crockery, unmade beds, newspapers, cars, fire engines and school books. The baking California sun radiated off the rickety wooden buildings, and you could close your eyes and almost hear the cries of a bustling town: poker games at the Old Hotel, children in the school yard, the fire bell ringing and the clink of the machinery at the mine. Bodie is a fantastic way of spending an afternoon, and if you think there is nothing better than the view of a Half Dome  and El Capitan from tunnel view the first time you enter Yosemite, try rediscovering that view four days later when you renter the park after a day in a ghost town. Then the crowds don't seem like a curse, they are a glorious reminder of the noise of real people!

'John Wayne slept here'

48 hours after arriving in the US, we sat down for a tasty tea of moo shi (a random fusion of Chinese and CaliMexican: stir fry in burrito, wrong on so many levels, but surprisingly tasty!) and reflected on an action packed 2 days which included a piano off, flash floods and a brush with stardom.

We flew into Vegas first and stayed at Bill's Gamblin Hall and Saloon, on the strip, for no other reason than it was cheap and came recommended by our trusty Lonely Planet. It's huge 'retro' (read knackered!) rooms were more than adequate. After sleeping off our jetlag whilst the city that never sleeps partied four stories below us, we were up early to fly to the Grand Canyon. Our tour (with Maverick Tours) was by helicopter. Needless today, the Photographer was beside herself with glee, whilst I was terrified and had to self medicate with several different sickness remedies. I needn't have worried, helicopter flying really does feel like real broomstick flying. None of this tearing jerkily down a runway and hoping for the best business, just a slight dip forward as we rose into the air, and then floated over the desert towards the canyon, taking in Hoover Damn, and following the Colorado River until it magically changed red to indicate that we had reached our destination. It was 10am, at one of the most natural beauties in the world, and I spotted at least 12 other helicopters, at times our landing spot was busier than Manchester airport, does Arizona need to think about limiting tours to this area?

The Colorado River snakes through the desert

We were chased back to the airstrip by imposing clouds, and when we landed we could feel the temperature had dropped, but this was the desert right? I know NYC, Croatia, Slovenia, Cornwall and Sydney are all destinations that have succumbed to apocalyptic weather during our holidays, but surely we'd be ok in Las Vegas, a city that sees over 300 days of sun a year? As we explored the strip, large drops started to fall, and in the time that it took to duck into The Venetian and establish that the indoor Vegas gondoliers are a poor substitute for the real thing, the strip began to flood. We held out as long as we could, and then ran across a footbridge, to find that the escalator had shorted in the rain (serves them right for having outdoor escalatorsm surelattracts just lazy!) and the sidewalk had flooded. It took 2 hours to make the three block return to Bill's, and involved wading through water in the sidewalk and road that was over knee deep.

Flooding on the strip

After drying off we took an umbrella and headed south down the strip to New York, New York, which, unlike the gondoliers, is brilliant! Every effort has been made to Vegas-ify all the wonderful things about the Big Apple: huge replica landmarks and a mini broadway, and the Times Square Bar, which boasts the famous 'Dueling Pianos' - 6 solid hours of two pianists enthusiastically playing any requests from the audience. The most impressive whilst we were where was 'money' by Pink Floyd.

Oh, and we also gambled. What is the point in that? It took the Photographer and I 35 minutes to figure out how to use a slot machine and 35 seconds to loose all our night's allotted spends (about 3 dollars!)

The next we left poor flooded Vegas behind and headed to Death Valley, safe in the knowledge that this was one of the hottest and most unforgiving areas in the world, and we would probably not be in any danger of flooding. Death Valley is so hot (well over 40*C whilst we were there) because it is very low (Badwater flats are the lowest point in the US) and is surrounded by mountains, so the hot air rises but never escapes. With all this heat and arid land, the valley can be a very unforgiving landscape, but it is saved by it's incredible array of colours. In one tremendous drive (called Artists Drive, do it, Death Valley is much better viewed for then air conditioned safety of a car) we saw mountains turn vibrant reds and oranges, murky browns, brilliant white, and even a sort of sapphire blue. We also escaped from the heat into a little museum which explains the history of the valley, including its importance as an area which could mine the mineral Borax. Mule teams of 20 horses used to pull the Borax to the nearest railway line. Given that by the end of the day we were driving from the restaurant at one of end of a building to the toilets at another to escape the heat on the 30 second walk, I have full sympathy with the horses. Apparently the horses used to carry bells, and if they encountered difficulties the rescue team took away their bells, this is where they phrase 'I'll be there with bells on' comes from, it means I'll manage by myself. And that folks, is a fact!

Jumping on Badwater, the lowest point in the US

The stunning scenery of Death Valley behind us we drove into Lone Pine, a small settlement near Mount Whitney which has a claim to fame. In the1920s film makers realised that the surrounding mountains were the perfect backdrop for western films,and quite an industry grew in this area. We stayed at Dow Villa Hotel, which was built in 1922 and seems to have accommodated quite a few stars: a hand written sign declared that John Wayne had slept here. The hotel was great, and the nearby restaurant 'the Merry-go-Round', with it's Chinese-Cali fusion is outstanding. The wood clad buildings of Lone Pine, and the panoramic mountains look like something straight from the 1920s, the sort of scene that I'd assume has been photoshopped, or just doesn't exist anymore. I came to California to see the surf, sea and Sequoias, I had no idea hidden gems like this existed.

Lone Pine - hidden gem

New travel blog about Alberta

Travel Bug has written a new blog about Alberta in Canada which is published on this major blog and travel website....

http://www.vagobond.com/wonderful-alberta-breakfast-with-dinosaurs-and-lunch-in-the-wild-west/

Sicily – pizzas and pandas

Etna schmokin'

I want to tell you what Sicily tastes like. It isn’t the pizzas that are eaten here for breakfast, lunch and tea; nor is it the lemons which hang heavy off almost every tree. It isn’t the thick, slurry like coffee that is cheaper and more readily available than water, nor is it the creamy gelato that come in every flavour imaginable. No, Sicily tastes of fear. A hard metallic fear that is actually blood from the freshly bitten hole on the inside of your cheek. The good, the bad and plain crazy of Sicily are all on display on the roads.

Our first taste of Sicilian roads was within minutes of arriving when we turned up at a certain crap car rental company (Budget, so sue me, I’m gonna sue you guys anyway – other crap car rental companies are available) to pick up our intermediate size car (Golf or equivalent, with five doors, air con and a boot for 3 backpacks and a tent). The nice Budget lady (Victoria V) told us we’d been upgraded from our Golf to a Fiat 500.

                ‘Wow, thank you’ said we,

                ‘No problem’ said she, ‘you deserve an upgrade, a smart car for 3 smart ladies’

                It took us 10 minutes to find the car. Imagine our surprise when we decided to locate it by using the remote unlocking system to see which car lit up.

A car for borrowers not humans!

                ‘There must be some mistake’ said we, ‘this is a smart car indeed.’

                But there was no mistake, and we had indeed learnt some Italian- Cinquecento = car for borrowers. We joined the queue at afore mentioned crap car hire company to argue about our upgrade. Cutting a long story short, an hour later we had been offered another upgrade. You know you are looking at a pretty rubbish automobile situation if a Fiat Panda is the better option. A Fiat Panda with no boot. I dragged Victoria V outside and asked her to try and fit 3 large backpacks, 4 small backpacks and a flight bag with a tent into a Fiat Panda. Well and truly defeated she relented and gave us a filthy Hyundai i20 (which I later wet wiped the exterior of, much to the bemusement of our camping neighbours), and so we were on our merry way. We were feeling pretty smug, until we realised there is a reason why everyone in this country drives small, crap cars – so they can fit two cars to each lane, so they can bump into each other without minding, and so they can drive down pavements to reach their destination those precious few seconds faster. Sicilian drivers don’t indicate, don’t park, don’t watch the road, don’t drive in set lanes, don’t wait at junctions, don’t follow one way traffic and often don’t drive in the right direction. The only rule of driving in Sicily is there are no rules. It is terrifying, exciting and exhilarating all at once. Imagine if you never had to wait at a roundabout again, you just ploughed forwards onto it, holding your hand out of the window in apology and honking angrily at anyone in your way.  The Driver has totally embraced Sicilian driving, The Photographer and myself are much more wary.

                After a three hour drive we arrived at the East Coast, and headed straight for our campsite, Camping Panorama in Acireale. We checked the facilities, all seemed in order- a boarded up mini market with empty shelves, 1 functioning (but leaking) toilet, 1 functioning shower (minus a lock). And one postcard perfect view, stretching north up the coast with tiny village after tiny village precariously perched on cliff tops, and a sea twinkling all the way to the Italian mainland. And that, my friends, is why we camp.

Camping in Europe allows you to visit places you would never otherwise see (and might never want to!), and it allows you to feel the essence of a country – the things which make a country itself, and not just an imitation of itself. Like the fact that in Sicily no toilets have toilet seats, and 90% of the businesses are closed. All the time. The other night we ventured into a town, and walked past 6 closed restaurants, 3 closed bars and an open hair salon. I could get a cut and blow, but not a beer. At Camping Panorama, the restaurant, bar and mini market were closed the whole time we were there. The pizzeria opened every other evening (just for us as far as we could tell). When it closed, we moved onto another pizzeria down the road, and were the only guests there (apart from a funeral party who arrived at 9pm one night).

So what can you see on East Coast Sicily? How about a live volcano?! Mount Etna dominates the landscape. She sits high above the vineyards and lemon trees reminding everyone that she could spoil everything if she pleased. She spews out a near constant cloud of ash and is permanently topped with patches of grey/white snow. She is perhaps best seen from a distance, Taormina, a slightly overrated town father north on the east coast has the remains of a beautiful Greek Roman amphitheatre (imaginatively called Teatro Greco), over which Etna towers. There is something powerful about these 3000 year ruins, all that remains of two of the greatest ancient civilisations, dominated still by the perfectly intact and breathing volcano. A reminder of the brevity of us humans in the history of the world.

Archaeology + volvanoes=happy travel bug. Just need a dinosaur now!

We braved a scary drive to Etna base camp (Refugio Sapienza) , where there is a huge car park, a few tacky souvenir stalls, and most random of all, a country bar which was holding a line dancing event. On a Tuesday lunchtime. There is just no predicting Sicilian businesses.What’s more it was packed. It seems the thing to do this lunchtime was brave the two hour terror of a drive up the largest live volcano in Europe and line dance. The base camp is close to a couple of small and dormant craters which we wandered around. It is not really possible to get an idea of the scale or danger of the volcano from here though. The best hint of this is the lava folds as tall as me, which remain frozen, lapping the outskirts of the car park. These have a very precarious feel, similar to a glacier, of something that is sleeping, but very much alive which could shatter the calm at any minute.

jumping on Etna

              The Photographer and I travelled further up in a wobbly cable car, but we were just specks of dust on this monster, and we couldn’t get anywhere near its mouth, so we headed out to the coast again where we could see Etna yawning down on the whole island.

                We also visited Syracuse, or Ortygia, to be more exact. This is one of many quaint medieval towns in Sicily. Each town has a huge Duomo, a sparkling square, palm trees, city walls and amazing ice creams. They also have free or cheap parking. I suppose if you are stupid enough to drive in Sicily you deserve some reward at least.

Ortygia has no public toilets. We headed to tourist information to try and locate some, and were shown into the Municipal Offices, where men in suits smoked and waited for us dirty, dusty backpackers to finish using their posh (but still seat-less) toilet. Embarrassed and flattered we decided to stop being tight and buy a coffee for our next wee.

                And so to Sicilians. On the whole we have found people to be kind and sweet (Budget Car Hire aside). We have been undercharged at almost every restaurant, and we have been offered help by many Sicilians – from bringing us a mallet to bang bent pegs into lava filled ground, to diving into the ocean to rescue my hat. Everywhere has checked for Uova (pretty sure I know the Italian for ‘Mum, the English people want to know if this has egg in?’), and often we have been brought delicious Italian starters whilst we wait for our food. They are also sweetly responsive to our odd British requests (‘Aqua Calda?!’ exclaimed our waiter, ‘but what for?’ I mimed drinking and my hot water arrived in a jug, with two lemons and a sugar sachet. The bemused staff watched, disbelieving, as I did indeed drink it.)

                The food defies belief. Incredible pizzas, desserts of fried pizza dough with nutella, and if you tire of pizza (and lets face it, that is possible after 12 in a four day period) you can have the local tax free alternative to a Greggs – Arancine, which is a bit like a risotto ball, dipped in breadcrumbs and fried – delicious.

                I write this blog in the sun, by the Mediterranean, near Cefalu, staying on a campsite with another soviet style mini market (empty and closed), clean toilets with no seats, a restaurant which opens every other night, and a site for our tents on a private terrace which literally overlooks the sea. All for E9 a night. You just can’t argue with that!

Cruising Croc Class

Feluccas on the Nile

Nile cruises are probably not intended for people with a innate fear of both boats and vomit, but that’s never put Travel Bug off before. The photographer and I decided to increase the proximity to both water and Bilharziose (an attractive disease involving tiny worms nesting in your gut) by ‘cruising’ in a felucca – a small sailboat which has been used on the Nile for centuries.

We boarded in Aswan, where I took two travel tablets, checked my travel bands were in place, foolishly asked about life jackets, and then felt like an idiot for at least an hour as we sailed gracefully and quietly up the Nile on water as still as glacial lake. I started to feel a bit like an intrepid sailor, and obligingly posed for a few shots for The Photographer: hanging off the sail, staring into the sunset etc. I quickly stopped this when I overheard two other passengers exclaiming with great surprise that a child had been allowed on this tour.

A rare photo of The Photographer on Toilet Beach

It wasn’t long before someone needed a wee, which involved a truly terrifying walk to the beach via a gangplank 3 meters long, 2 meters high and 20 cm wide. If one had any wee left after this experience, it was to be expelled onto the beach itself. Now I’ve wee’d on many a mountain walk in my time, but somehow weeing on a beach felt like blasphemy. Dignity left well and truly on the smelly beach, we reboarded the boat to eat lunch cooked by our crew. The tasty salad and meats was somewhat spoiled as I had seen them wash the salad in the Nile. Yup the water right next to Toilet Beach itself. I suspected we might be in for a few more trips to Toilet Beach over the next few days – I wasn’t wrong!

Mummified Crocs are cool

Later, as the sun was setting, and we were starting to layer up for a freezing night under the stars we glimpsed the awe inspiring sight of a three thousand year old temple, magnificent in the red sky. Like the glowing conclusion to an epic pilgrimage, Komombo’s Temple of Sobek, was no less impressive in the twenty-first century and was completed by a mummified crocodile of its own. Cool. I privately hoped that was the closest I would get to crocs on this trip.

We were so enchanted by the temple that we set off for our camp late. You are not allowed to sail feluccas in the dark, so we were rescued by the Nile coastguards who towed us to our final destination, the big cruise ships honked at us as we were pulled past, we felt like the naughty kid on the way to the head master’s office!

Travel Bug and The Photographer backpacked around Egypt in 2008. We found that ’ Imaginative Traveller’ had the cheapest tours – watch out as there are some hidden extra costs but the guides are excellent and the company still provide good value for money.

Welcome to Travel Sic!

Welcome to Travel Sic! The blog with tips and tales from the adventures of Travel Bug and The Photographer. I'm going to be uploading blogs and stories about my attempts to travel, avoiding egg, bugs, various modes of transport and excessive spending. It usually ends in rain, tears and vomit.
Oh and I love to jump!
Please read, comment and share!