Other Interesting and Quirky Pyongyang

• Fun-fair – one evening we were asked if we want to visit one of the 3 permanent fun-fairs. We jumped at the chance and had a grand time. Huge queues were in front of every ride, but as we were paying about 100 times the price of the locals, we were able to queue jump, much to the amusement of the people watching. We went on the bumper cars, free fall tower (where we were treated to a nerve racking extra-long wait at the top), and the horizontal roller coaster. It was eerie watching the people, unlike visitors in the west, North Koreans do not scream on the rides (we did) and were very orderly in the lines – really different mentality.
• The Ryugyong Hotel – a 105-story pyramid-shaped skyscraper with 5 revolving restaurants on the top. It is breathtakingly amazing architecture. Construction began in 1987, but was halted in 1992 when Russian money ran out – but was resumed in 2008. During the hiatus, it was such an ugly embarrassment to the establishment it was removed from maps and photoshopped out city panoramas. It is now a fantastic landmark, but no word on opening dates – rumour has it that the construction was so botched that the elevator shafts are not straight so it may take a few more years. It is like a sentinel looking over the city.
• National Friendship Exhibition – to show how much North Korea is loved, this 1 month old exhibition showcases 8,000 of the 20,000 gifts bestowed on the country by fellow Koreans. Sadly, no photos were allowed, but the highlights included:
  • A double sided portrait of Kim Il-sung riding a tiger, and, on the rear, having a post-ride fag with the tiger in background with a “was it good for you” expression on its face.
  • Portrait of Kim Il-sung made of feathers (18,000 birds died to make it)
  • Ashtray made out of an inflated blow-fish
  • Model of a aubergines (eggplant) made of ivory
  • Miniature of world’s biggest table (think about it, it was a table)
  • An aboriginal dot picture of Kim Jong-il (this a huge no-no in aboriginal culture, portraits should never be depicted in this art form)
  • Laughably old technology – a back projection screen TV, pressure cooker, a couple of VHS tape players and a Walkman were in the “technology” section (if you don’t know what the last 2 are, look them up on Wikipedia)
  • A huge jade tiger balanced on a globe representing the earth. It has it claws dug deep in America (accident? I think not)

Outside Pyongyang
After the excitement of the capital we made several excursions out of town.

• Heading out to the border with South Korea we stopped off at the Folk Hotel in Kaesong. Here we got a taste of how the real North Koreans live, sleeping on the floor with traditional mattresses, weirdly lumpy pillows, very low doors, intermittent hot water & electricity. The authentic evening meal had us sitting on the floor too. Although limited in our movements, our guides allowed us a brief sojourn in to the town, taking in the propaganda posters and the ambiance of the city.
• The de-militarized zone (DMZ) – running along the 38^th parallel for 250 kms, this strip of land serves as a buffer zone between North and South Korea and was the most regimented place we visited. Under strict guidance of where we could go, we were lined up like school children and made to walk along pre-determined paths to the negotiating tents on the boarder as well as the buildings where the treaty splitting the country was signed. Here we got another blast of the anti-Americans propaganda that is rife is all areas. It was quite disturbing.
• Nampho (West Sea) Dam – this 16 km long construction closes the Taedong River from the sea, improving irrigation and preventing sea water swells. When building was behind schedule, Kim Jong-il came by and gave them some architectural advice and made some suggestion regarding construction techniques. Thus the barrier was finished in record time (according to the propaganda video). It was accompanied by some hilarious video footage of divers hammering large underwater nails in to the concrete.
• Bottling Plant – This was probably the most surreal experience we had. To show how industry is thriving in North Korea we went to a mineral water bottling plant. The plant looked new, but was empty – we were told the whole factory was out to lunch (at 2:30?). We were hurriedly shown round the grounds and then shown some propaganda posters while frantic phone calls were made. A lorry turned up and people started loading crates of water and the story changed – apparently the plant was undergoing maintenance. Finally, we entered the factory; saw the machines, where we were told the plant only worked at night due to electricity shortages. We were then shown the water’s source, where we could taste the water from dripping taps. One of our party went round the back of the building and caught some kids pouring water in to basins, which seemed to be the source we were drinking from. Who knows what the real deal is – whatever it is the bottles were so precious we did not even get a free sample.
• Ryonggang Hot Springs Resort – this “resort” hotel is situated on a hot spring and so from 6 – 7 pm (after which the hot spring was turned off) we could draw sulfurous water in to the hot spring bath tub located conveniently in our room. Whilst bathing there was a racket coming from nearby fields. This is the “radio” that all North Koreans enjoy every day from 5 am – 10 pm. The speakers broadcast a mixture of “news” and music all over the country. Apparently, every house also has a speaker mounted in to listen – a little too 1984ish for my liking.

Food
I can say little to the food shortages that were rife in mid-1990s. We ate like kings, although there was a reliance on eggs and there was the strange habit of serving the rice (the most prized foodstuff) at the end of the meal when everything else was finished. Locals too seemed to have a choice; most shops seemed to have a supply of goods. As there are no branded shops, simple blue icons were used to identify what could be bought where. Some of the tastes we enjoyed:

• Breakfast – normally at the hotel consisting of eggs and toast, beautifully toasted by the toaster girl, a dedicated resource in the restaurant. Often interesting dishes supplemented the eggs – anchovies, potato crisps and seaweed graced the buffet.
• Hot pots – for this meal we were presented with a boiling saucepan and a plate of raw eggs, vegetables and meat.  You basically “made your own soup” – it was delicious, although the meat was a bit tough. The large pot of monosodium glutamate on the table was a bit confusing – depending how much you added it had a dramatic effect on the taste.
• Dog soup – a little controversial and at €5 an “extra”. We ordered a couple of bowls and shared them between  the group. The lean meat itself was tolerable, with a good meaty taste – the fatty parts and the liver were not so appetizing. As we left the hotel, we heard barking in the background and a guilty hush spread on us as we made our way back in the darkness (electricity was out)  to the rooms.
• Various barbecues – we had an indoor duck BBQ and a lovely out door picnic BBQ with lamb, squid and more duck. One of our party from Singapore was delighted with the squid and squealed “I love fishy, fishy” when served which became a rallying cry for the rest of the tour.
• Kimchi – served at just about every meal , including breakfast, it is the national dish of Korea. It is made of fermented vegetables with a lot of spices. One of our guides told us that every year in November they take 1 week of their holidays to go home and help make the supply for the family for the following year. Considering they only get 2 weeks holiday a year, it is a huge commitment.
• Meal fit for a king – this was great – the table was laid with many bronze pots that you mixed and matched as desired. Some of the pots contained undefinable foodstuffs others delicious delicacies, such as seaweed, smoked meats, kimchi and, unsurprisingly, egg.
• Pizza – Kim Jong-il was very partial to watching the odd movie with a pizza, so sent 4 chefs to Italy for 4 years to learn the art of pizza making. As a result, Pyongyang has its very own Italian restaurant, serving deliciously authentic pizza (although the one with salami and chocolate on did raise a few eyebrows). We visited the restaurant on our last night, to our surprise it featured karaoke waitresses, who were naturally joined on stage by our rambunctious party. We left clutching extra pizzas to enjoy cold on the train the following day.

Conclusion
A glib statement, but really one of the most incredible trips I have ever done. It was also very relaxing, with no access to phone, internet, Facebook or e-mail I was free to just enjoy myself – it was heaven.  Sure, we were fed propaganda, but it may not be as one sided as one might think. My impression is that there is an element of propaganda from the western world too.

For me the psyche of the nation was the most fascinating. The single minded trust and belief in the national messaging is almost unfathomable for us in the west and with no external sources or independent news, the party messaging is not questioned. Many of the statements we were told are simply illusionary – for example, DMZ guard who explained with absolute conviction how the “US will be crushed if they ever try to invade again” or the facts about Kim Jong-il (who got 14 holes-in-one on his first round of golf). The great leaders are so respected that we were not allowed to fold a newspaper if the face of one of the Kim-clan was in the crease, let alone throw it away. I ended up bringing them back with me.

Their future of North Korea is uncertain – there was a lot of talk of how the US is preventing a reunification with the yearning South (truth is only 3% of South Koreans mentioned reunification as a topic at the last elections.)  If it also estimated that 10% of South Korean GPD would have to be spent for at least 60 years for an effective reunification. The costs for bringing infrastructure up to scratch would alone be crippling – the 10 lane highways we traveled down were potholed and uneven and bridges were cracking. At the Arirang one segment was dedicated to the fact “there can be no successful North Korea without China” – so that may be the direction the party leadership is heading.

Practically everyone we met was kind, pleasant and seemed at least content, but I am still confused about so much of what we saw – how much was real and how much was a façade?  Questions that remain:  Was the hotel bugged or is the 5^th floor simply the monitoring station for the casino? Was the water factory really just a sham? Why does the USS Pueblo have an ice cream maker on the main deck? Sadly, I think we will never get the real answers, but I honestly think it is good for us in the west to visit this amazing country – “the unknown” causes fear, uncertainty and doubt. I now know a little more about North Korea, and hope some of the citizens there know a little more about us in the west. I would return anytime.

The first few hours were spent getting to know the international bunch of people we would be touring with over the following 7 days. The restaurant car on the train was limited so we had a lovely meal of Chinese pot noodles. As we had no idea of the content, we went by colour. I had a lovely pot of red, although some people swore green was far better. Purple was universally derided. We bonded well and before settling down for the night (and due to a slight misunderstanding) tried to frighten each other with nighttime scary goat stories – of which there were a surprising number.

The following morning started with about 4 hours of customs formalities at the Chinese / North Korean border. The smart uniformed North Korean guards, with huge military caps, came on board with high-tech laser temperature scanners to check for illness and subsequently searched luggage. Any communication devices (such as phones) and anything with a hint of GPS was sealed in envelopes (conveniently stored in afore mentioned caps) – only to be opened when exiting the country.

The final 5 hour leg of the journey was then spent gaping out at the North Korean, very rural, countryside. There was almost no traffic on the wide, badly maintained roads and the seemingly thrown together housing and apartment blocks were interspersed with huge, beautifully tended, murals of the eternal president Kim Il-sung and supreme leader Kim Jong-il in various poses. The latest leader, Kim Jong-un, has yet to make an appearance. There was a huge military presence everywhere. This was not blatant, but a sort of nagging constant, especially at the train stations – North Koreans are forbidden to leave their city of residence without special permits.

We soon reached the suburbs of Pyongyang and its central station. Here we met our 3 North Korean guides and driver and took a well-appointed bus tour through the city to The International Yanggakdo Hotel.  Huge high-rises and bombastic monuments flew by along our route. The hotel is centrally located on an island in the Taedong river, which bisects the city. Whilst in residence, we had free reign on the hotel property, but were not allowed to cross the bridge back in to the city – a pattern repeated in all hotels we stayed in.

The Yanggakdo looked like any other international hotel, 47 stories and 1,001 rooms, casino (only for foreigners), pool, bowling alley and capped with a revolving restaurant – but it has secrets. The lifts had a mind of their own often ignored the buttons pressed and returned to the lobby for no apparent reason. There was also no button for floor 5 – rumored to be the central surveillance floor. Theories about what goes on there are wild – are the rooms bugged? Could be – the crappy bedside table had a radio, clock and light switch – why did this necessitate 24 wires coming out the back? Also the mirror in almost every room was free hanging, but in ours it was screwed to the wall. That, coupled with a mysterious unmarked room backing on to ours made me very suspicious  Suffice it to say, I did a lot of naked lunges in front of the mirror. If they were recording us, it will not be a pleasant video.

Pyongyang Monuments
The next morning we were reunited with our guides and headed in to the city. Over the week we got a glimpse in to the North Korean psyche though these charming people. They were naturally followers of the Juche state ideology and we were to learn more about this at our first stop – The Grand People’s Study House.

The Grand People’s Study House is the national center of Juche studies where people can pop in and ask questions, read books, learn languages, listen to music or watch videos. We were guided though this house of learning and listened to the outrageous claims – “it contains 30 million books” – to put this in perspective the British Library has 13.5 million, the library of congress has 22.7 million. Asked if we could see the books, we were shown a selection of English books including “Huckleberry Finn” and “Bees and their Role in Forest Livelihoods” which appeared, as if staged, on a small, automated cart. We gate-crashed several class rooms dedicated to computer studies and languages and even spoke to an English class. Claims of 12,000 students a day using the facilities would mean about 150 entering the building every 10 minutes – we probably saw about 150 in total, which appeared, as if staged, from a small, automated elevator.

Juche dominated the rest of the afternoon, visiting the 150 meter tall Juche Tower (apparently designed by Kim Jong-il) and the amazing “Monument to the Party Foundation” – consisting of three 50 meter high icons: a sickle, hammer and writing brush which signifies the 3 Juche social classes: peasant, worker, and the samuwon (intellectuals and professionals). At this point my brand new camera gave up the ghost – so thanks to all for helping out with the photos from this point on – but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise as I was just free to admire everything without worrying if I had taken a good shot.

From the monument, we hopped on to the legendary Pyongyang metro. At 110 meters underground, it is one of the deepest in the world and doubles up as a shelter. It consists of 2 lines, about 15 stations and massive escalators – our guide spent several minutes extolling the amazing virtues of the exchange station where the 2 lines crossed. The names of the stations have eschewed the traditional naming conventions of places or streets and we jumped on the cast off East German trains at Glory station, passing through Beacon, Victory and Reunification to Triumph. It was a great experience mingling with real people for the first time, although we felt like aliens as we were given special treatment in the carriages and were gawked at like zoo animals. The architecture of the stations was also incredible – Glory spouting a firework themed hall and Triumph featuring incredible mosaic murals and yet another statue of the great leader.

Showtime in Pyongyang
Afternoons and evenings were taken up by shows. During our time in Pyongyang we were lucky enough to see 3 different shows; the circus, a performance at the Children’s Palace #1 and the sublime Arirang.

• Circus – When we were told we were off to the circus I expected a tent and few animals. I was not ready for the extravaganza we witnessed.  The theater was impressive enough with a retractable stage revealing an ice rink and we started off with a mind-boggling performance of an ice skating bear with two ice skating baboons jumping through hoops. From there we went on to juggling with doves, plate spinning, rope jumping on ice and gymnastics – impressive stuff, but the bear did look a little mangy and worse for wear.
• Children’s Palace Performance – the Children’s Place is an after school club where selected children are trained in singing, dancing, painting, music etc. We arrived at the iconic building simulating a mother’s caring arms and, passing the creepy, surreal statue outside, were treated to a very staged tour before the show. The biggest crack in the façade was in the sketching room, where one pupil, supposedly drawing a figurine, was actually just colouring in the page.  Our 13 year old guide informed us she was a singer, but when asked to sing she looked so nervous I swear she almost puked. The show was, however, excellent. The movement and gestures of the children performing so technically perfect it was freaky – but lacked somewhat in heart.
• However, the circus and children’s performance just paled in to inconsequentiality compared to the Arirang (Mass Games). This remarkable and inspiring spectacle is held in the May Day Stadium – “the largest stadium in the world” (unlikely) was one of the main reasons for my trip. About 100,000 perfectly synchronized performers take part in the 90 minute show telling the story of unrequited love. Half the stadium is taken up by a about 12,000 school children creating a human backdrop– imagine each student holding cards, each card being a pixel in a huge, ever-changing, fresco. In front of this fresco the main action and gymnastics takes place on the stadium floor. Words simply cannot do it justice – I was so emotionally overcome I just ended up balling my eyes out at the beginning. Sadly the show may be soon cancelled – the costs are as spectacular as the event. About 200 million man hours are spent yearly on the show and it is so time intensive, students feign illness to get out of doing it. Still, it was one of the most astonishing things I have ever witnessed.

Interesting Claims
The next few days were spent at various locations in and around the city listening to ludicrous, almost pythoneque, claims. These locations included:

• USS Pueblo, a spy ship captured by the North Koreans in 1968 sparking a major international incident. We watched a propaganda video about the “brazen US imperialists who are now running downhill” and toured the ship. For me, the most remarkable thing was the huge ice-cream machine on the main deck. That, for me, bought up more questions than the whole spy incident.  Where did they get the milk? What flavours were available? Questions, I fear, that will never be satisfactorily answered.
• Embroidery studio – here we saw some superb artistry of butterflies, tigers and other party icons (such as the flowers Kimilsungia (a purple orchid) and the Kimjongilia (a red begonia)). Now a days much work seemed centered on preserving photos in silk – we watched as some fat Russians were immortalized for a mere €40 – one of my fellow travelers wanted to get a picture of himself at a urinal done in silk, but sadly we did not have enough time. We also learned about the 120 patents that North Korea have on embroidery (50 of which relate to nano-technology embroidery) and learned about the North Korean miracle cloth Vinylon, made out of limestone. When pressed the guides were not too sure about the exact process of converting sedimentary rock to flowing fabric, but promised to ask the scientist.
• Korean film studio – apparently taking up an unbelievable 10,000 km², where 300 movies are made per year (bending the truth per chance?). As no filming was taking place that day (surprise), we tried on some of the costumes and toured the sets. Apparently, Kim Jong-Il wrote the script for the most popular North Korean film, has composed 6 operas and enjoys staging elaborate musicals. He also visited the studios over 600 times – when this latter fact was divulged, a voice from the back muttered “600 times before breakfast” causing titillation throughout the group.
• Mangyongdae -  the 1912 birth place of Kim Il-sung, which is remarkably well maintained in beautiful grounds. The (new looking) original mattresses and pots were on display as well as the brush where he, aged 4, first penned the words “Korean Independence”. More titters. We then drunk from well in the garden a popular attraction as it brings the drinker closer to Mr. Il-sung.   (Continued on page 2)

(Continued on page 2)

First impressions count and they were not brilliant.. rain stormed and the airport was full of transit passengers queuing in the corridors and hanging around the limited shops displaying general dross such as a puffin claw bottle opener and a pile of glued together stones (really). We dashed out to the rental car and were on our way on route 1, the 1,340 km “mostly paved” orbital ring road that was to be our mainstay for the next 10 days – at a sedate 90 km/h, the top speed allowed.

This was the first time I had put all the bookings in the hands of a travel agent, and boy did they come through. Some of the hotels may have been a teeny bit out of the way, but the agent did a superb job of balancing cost, time and location – as we found out at our first port of call.

This delightful residence introduced us to the “hot pots” (outdoor Jacuzzis fed by the geo-thermals in the area) and was perfectly located in the middle of the “Golden Circle” encompassing the three main sights that Iceland has to offer. The next day we visited these attractions – the original geyser (erupts conveniently and photogenically every 6 minutes), the Gullfoss (massive waterfall, first of many) and the Þingvellir national park (where in 930AD the first parliament was inaugurated). We spent a day snuffling around and spent the evening feeling like lobsters in the hot pot.

This first day marked a remarkable change in the weather we did not see any more rain clouds until day 8. OK, it was cold, and in some places very windy but most of the time the sun shone and shone. This made for some remarkable rainbows at the various locations, but encouraged swarms of flies at others. Our trip to the remarkable Myvatn Lake was slightly marred by consuming copious numbers of the little buggers as they kamikazied toward the carbon dioxide in your breath. Some had a bad sense of smell and went for the ears too.

From there, the next 6 days were next spent on and around route 1 – visiting some of what must be some of the most spectacular scenery on the planet. The relative youth of the country made for some amazing sights:

• The “smaller” blue lagoon in the north of the country – soothing geothermal pool
• The dumbfounding sight of a glacier breaking up in to icebergs as it enters the sea
• Mud pots gently bubbling, issuing clouds of steam and sulfurous gas
• Getting back to my Enid Bylton days, by discovering the pleasures of the caves behind a waterfall and the rainbows!
• Surreal landscapes that seemed to go on forever (at 90 km/h they did)
• Rainbows!

On the 8th day we arrived back to civilization in the form of Akureyri, Iceland’s 2nd largest town and currently embroiled in controversy – the 18,000 residents want the place upgraded from a ‘town’ to ‘city’ -personally I think ‘village’ more than covers it. Our trip luckily(?) coincided with the culmination of the 150th Akureyri Arts Festival – a massive stage had been erected for the evenings disco and there was the promise of the annual “haunted fright night”. Both did not quite live up to expectations, the stage never had more than about 40 people in front of it (5 of which were the bouncers) and fright night was a collection of locals in 1890 wee-willie-winkie night gowns pretending to be zombies. Most of the town turned out for the “big” night and, with all the street lights extinguished, people just ended up scaring each other in the darkness. The event was, however, enlivened by an occasional horseman of the apocalypse trotting by.

Reykjavik was our final port of call and gave us an excellent opportunity to soak up more quirkiness of Iceland. This started with a taste of hákarl, possibly the most revolting thing I have ever had in my mouth. Literally ‘putrid shark meat’ its rubbery texture and nauseating smell meant I could chew it, but could not bring myself to swallow. Luckily I followed the advice of my guide book, which stated that if you try it, you should strategically place yourself near a convenient bin.

There is not that much else to do there. We visited the most famous landmark the Hallgrímskirkja church, which is incredibly plain, but offers great views over the city from the steeple, and then moved on to the Perlan museum, which is most noticeable because it looks like half a giant bra, discarded on a hill. It did house an excellent museum chronicling the history of Iceland from the first settlers, with no-holds barred on the violence, gruesomeness or associated ghost stories from the Egil’s saga. An epic I could probably stomach a tad better than hákarl.

We had a wonderful time, but I have 3 gripes with this country:

1. The northern lights were off again – this is the 3rd time I have been in the arctic circles, and lights were nowhere to be seen. I am beginning to believe it is a huge conspiracy.
2. The Icelandic language – Icelandic has 12 vowels and how are you supposed to look up any word starting with “Þ” or “Đ” – our navigation system had some serious issues and trying to read anything was a nightmare.
3. The money. The Icelanders certainly got their own back on the financial front loading you with inconveniently large and bulky coinage, most common 1 kroner coin is worth €0.006. We got our own back in the airport though, dumping tons of them for our final coffees.

I would certainly go back again and if you are looking for someone to suggest a brilliant itinerary, check out http://www.islandprotravel.de.

OK, the journey was long, but the prospect of Maui was just too tempting to pass, so I stole myself for the long trip and headed off to the airport, where I met up with my baby brother (well, he is whole 15 minutes younger than I am) who was also along for the ride.

Arriving at Kahului, I really wanted a flower lei, (the necklaces, seen in films, that everybody seems to get the moment they step foot on the islands) –  but I was told these are for women – men get a lei of shells or nuts (sure there is some symbolism there). I put my foot down though and to accompanying titters and smiles, got what I wanted. It was lovely – although it did clash with my outfit.

Maui is an incredibly diverse island. It is basically land formed around 2 volcanoes, the smaller older Kahalawai and the still active (last erupted in 1790) Haleakala, which rises to more than 3,000 meters  above sea level. Haleakala actually is one of the world’s highest mountains, it is over  5 miles (8.0 km) from base to summit, but its base actually rests on the sea floor.

Our first activity was to explore Haleakala, which necessitated getting up at 2:00 am to drive to the top and watch the “spectacular” sunrise. The sun rise was a little disappointing; the promised “amazing colours” were blocked by clouds, which bought in an icy wind literally freezing the water droplets on your coat. I was wearing 5 layers and was still shivering like crazy. So we jumped on our bikes and, avoiding the ice, cycled down to sea level (well more like coast down actually). lt warmed up on the enjoyable bike ride, which finished at a memorial to the leper colony – a lovely ending.

These volcanoes have a big effect on the local climate, which means there is a huge diversity in topography on the island – lush, rich rain forests on the north side, temperate to the east and dry to the south. Our resort was in the “just perfect” weather area,  warm seas and blue skies but we wanted to see the rest of the island, so our next trip was a circumnavigation of the volcano.

This is not so easy as, technically, there is no proper road to do this. The hippy colonies on the east coast want to prevent a real road being built as it will open up the area to tourists and resorts. Unperturbed, and with another early start (6:00 am), we set off to explore this area.  It was fascinating to see how the flora and fauna changes in just a few short miles. Soon we were in deep rain forest and I know now why they call it RAIN forest. Our goal was to hike to a waterfall for a quick dip, but the swollen rivers hindered our arrival and we had to turn back, but certainly not disappointed as we admired the towering bamboo and banyan trees, and certainly not dry.

Another highlight Maui has to offer are the aquatic animals. From our hotel balcony we could see whales frolicking off-shore, so this naturally had to be explored.  We were told to wait at our hotels reception for the bus. After about 20 minutes, the bus arrived and drove us to the back of our hotel, (which was closer to our room than reception), where our ship was backing on to the hotel’s beach to pick us up.

We started off snorkelling off at Molokini, a crescent-shaped, partially submerged volcanic crater which forms a small inland just off the coast. The clarity of the water and the diversity of the fish was simply astounding – I was gob smacked and was the last one back in the boat. From there we went turtle watching. This is simple as the entire area is used as a turtle swim through shell-wash. The turtles turn up, take a breath and plonk themselves on the sea-bed, where an army of fishes go to work scraping accumulated debris off the shell. Again, I was the last one in the boat as turtle I was shadowing decided to take a breath just as I was leaving. Thanks to an excellent underwater camera I managed to get this footage:

The rest of the time was spent relaxing, eating, hanging out on the beach and snorkelling. The 70 year old Neil Diamond was actually very good in concert, although he did leave out my favourite “Song, song, blue” (perhaps he is going senile).

At the end of the week it was time for LONG trip back to Germany. I spent a day in Honolulu, which did not exactly enthral – a big city with just too many traffic lights and one-way streets to be pleasant. There were a couple of highlights – hiking up Diamond Head, a left over volcanic crater, which afforded spectacular view of Waikiki beach; Waikiki beach itself; Pearl Harbour and the excellent exhibition there which allows you to relived the December 7^th 1941 attack – but I was glad to be on my way and in just a short 27 hours later arrived back at home, and start dreaming of the next trip..

Two things hit you when you arrive in Norway, one is the total lack of architectural flair, and the other is the exorbitant price of everything. Arriving at the airport, we stopped for  a celebratory coffee (€6), before taking the massively clumpy, depressingly somber express in to the center of Oslo (€22, each way).  With only 600,000 inhabitants (in a country of 5 million), Oslo does not really have a great deal to offer. We stopped off at the tiny cathedral (still wreathed in flowers following on from the recent shootings), the national gallery (with its depressing Edvard Munch collection), the harbor (an architectural mess, where 23 architects seem to be battling out who can “do” better urban planning) and finally the very boxy, yet interesting town hall, where the Nobel Peace prize is doled out each year.

Our next stop necessitated taking a tram, which according to the digital display, could travel through time – apparently it would pick us up, after it had reached at our final destination. Impressive stuff.  We took this miraculous contraption to the brilliant Vigeland Sculpture Park in almost no time at all. Here 212 bronze and granite Gustav Vigeland sculptures are, for want of a better word, on display. His work portrays naked men, women and children in various “typically human pursuits” as the catalogue puts it – I leave it up to your imagination.

From Oslo, we were off to Kirkenes, the start of the boat trip, home to 3,300 very cold people and about 12 million lemmings. It necessitated getting up very early and taking the Auschwitz Express back to Oslo Airport. On the surprisingly full plane, breakfast was severed. Now, I am used to mystery meat on planes, but this was the first time I had experienced mystery jam. The package depicted just about every type of fruit you can imagine and tasted, well, fruity.

This culinary delight distracted us from the bigger issue of not actually arriving in Kirkenes. After 2 aborted landings the pilot had to divert to the metropolis of Lakselv (population 2,146) and we ended up on a 5 hour (340 km) bus ride back to the fogged-in Kirkenes airport. With hindsight was not such a bad thing as the tourist attractions in Kirkenes are few and far between and we could play “count the squashed lemmings” on the road – there were a lot.

The next morning it was off to the boat. Well, it would have been, had we not started chatting with some Spaniards and totally disregarded the large canary yellow bus that drove by, pickup about other 20 people and drove off.  Hurried calls to the bus station instigated its return, but it was a bonding moment with the Spaniards who we stuck with on the cruise – we were amongst the youngest on the boat.

From there the 2,600 km boat ride to deliver post to 30 ports along the Norwegian coast began. Over the next 6 days, we meandered through incredible fjords watching the sites go by and soaking up the Norwegian sun. The first few stops had the common theme of “the most northerly…” – the most northerly point of Norway, the most northerly fort, the most northerly mountain with a hole in it, the most northerly methanol plant etc etc. We were also lucky enough to spot the most northerly cat at one point, but it eluded our cameras. Forget the most northerly lemming, there must be a 1,000 vying for this honor.

At some ports (where it could not be avoided), we took organized excursions with tour guides who explained every fauna, flora and squashed lemming en route. One question was why houses are typically painted a myriad of different colours, apparently, this was a post war phenomenon. As the Nazis retreated, they burnt everything to the ground and during the rebuilding phase the government subsidized only standard houses shapes. People wanted to personalize their “standard” houses and so started painting them different colours – and presto, picturesque villages.

I have never been on a cruise before and don’t ask me where the time went. There always seemed to be a huge backlog of things to do – a quick troll round a local port, drinkies with our Spanish friends, meals, a quick nap on the deck, a chance to get a bit further in that book, a rush to get the best photo of the methanol plant as it glided by.. it was all go.

After six days the cruise irrevocably had to come to an end – we arrived in Bergen and disembarked to the first real rain we had seen. The final day was spent exploring this wet, but vibrant city – unfortunately some main attractions were shut. I really wanted to experience the Leprosy Museum (surprisingly, the most northerly Leprosy museum in the world), where I imagined interactive displays and multimedia exhibits, but it was sadly not to be – it had started its winter hiatus. So we checked out the excellent aquarium and the funicular, where we had some break-taking views of fog and drizzle, before heading back to Frankfurt.

Another excellent trip that I can only heartily recommend – the only disappointment was again not seeing the northern lights. This may become an obsession with me, so watch out for postcards to come..

The first couple of days were a presentation blur, but the big day came and Sting came by and put on a concert for me in the evening, which was nice. I was 10 rows from the front and was seriously gyrating to some of the classics, but went out and got drinks during the boring new-age, tree hugging melodies. He was rushed off stage after the concert, so we did not get a chance to catch up, perhaps next year.

The next day, I only had afternoon meetings, so I got up early and arrived at the park half an hour before the gates opened and immersed myself in the huge crowd at the turnstiles. By the time the gates opened a flood of humanity surged in to the park, with everyone seemingly making their way to the Wizzarding World.

I tried to get to the front, dashing through Headache Land (based on Dr. Seuss’ books, the colours and brightness is nauseating), past The Lost Continent (which to be honest, no one would miss if were to go astray) and ended up at the gates of my target. The first thing you see is an enormous arch announcing you are entering the village of Hogsmeade and a large, red Hogwarts express train gently puffing away at the station. Rounding the corner you are literally immersed in J.K. Rowlings world, as you enter the sumptuously recreated village, with a monolithic back drop of Hogwarts – I was stunned.

The shops of Hogsmeade are true to the books and are crafted to the tiniest detail – both inside and out. The shops themselves are covered in fake snow and are seemingly fighting for space, with asymmetrical frontages, and crooked, seemingly unstable chimneys poking up all over the place. The window decoration are gorgeous, in ”Quality Quiddich Supplies”, bludgers and a snitch fight their containment in a beautiful box. In Zonkos, a display of how puking pastels work dominates the bright awnings. Inside the items are familiar – extendible ears and speakoscopes vie for shelving space with cauldrons, wands and Berty Botts Every Flavour Beans. Olivanders has a fine selection of character wands (made in China, at the extortionate price of $29.99 + tax), the ATM is Gringotts branded, moaning Myrtle laments her demise in the mens’ bathroom, the monster book of monsters snaps at you from its cage as you walk past – the list just goes on and on.

From there I moved on to main attraction, the “Harry Potter and the Forbidden Journey” ride. Just getting to the ride was a pleasure, meandering through Hogwarts corridors, meeting Harry, Ron and Hermione, watching the pictures talk to each other and the entrance to Dumbledore’s office, whilst enjoying the banter of the pictures. Eventually, you get to the ride, where, starting on a 4-seater couch in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione casts a flying spell you are whisked round Hogwarts, chasing dragons, unexpectedly taking part in a Quiddich match, then avoiding the Whomping Willow you finally fight with dementors to save the day. Spectacular. I rode it twice and ended my visit with a celebratory Butterbeer in the Hogs Head Bar, chatting with the animated head as I did so. As I left, as the masses continued to swarm in to Hogsmeade – it was a heaving, but the bar lady cheerfully informed me, “this is nothing, you should see it on a busy day” – I really dread to think.

The rest of the day was spent on roller coasters, including a new one worthy of note, the Hollywood Rip Ride Rockit. This attraction features an individual sound system to provide a personalized soundtrack for the 1.2km ride – I chose Gloria Gaynor’s “I will survive” (it was either that or “Staying Alive” by the Bee Gees), which seemed appropriate as we were hauled  vertically 51m up to the top of the ride (the tallest in Orlando). It is designed to allow four trains to be on the track at a time and feature “near-miss” encounters and a unique form of vertical loop, in which the track rotates 360° whilst in the loop. Pure adrenalin fun.

Despite all the hullabaloo of the new rides, my favourite still continues to be the Hollywood Tower of Terror in the Disney re-branded Hollywood Studios. We visited here the next day, but our timing was not ideal as about 1 billion Star Wars fans (I counted them) also arrived to celebrate the re-opening of the Star Wars Clone Ride. You could not move in the park for Obi-Wans, Darth Vaders and other things-I-know-not-what running around. We just did the Tower of Terror, a couple of non-Star Wars related rides and got out, passing Donald Duck dressed as a storm trooper – a little surreal.

Following on from a bit (well, a lot) of shopping, it was time to trek back to the airport, stopping off for some buffalo chicken wings en route. I sort of became addicted to these delicious little delicacies during my trip and am now suffering withdrawal from them.

All in all a great birthday week, can’t wait for the next one.

Arriving at the hotel a few days later, I was warmly greeted in the opulent foyer and checked in. Managing to throw off the hordes of employees who wanted to carry my bag, show me my room and even push the lift button for me (really), I went up to the 18th floor, and was flabbergasted – the room was magnificent. I took out my camera to take photos it was so perfect in every detail – polished surfaces, fluffy pillows, Bang & Olufsen stereo, huge bath, the list went on and on – a real designer had been at work here.

But then reality kicked in. Initially, I wanted to turn on the lights – no problem with that I thought – and went searching for the light switch, correction light switches. I finally located a draw next to the bed, which had to be pulled out to reveal the “control panel”. The panel had barrage of buttons, beautiful buttons, but the descriptive text for each had been smudged through use, so I had the heater on, the curtains drawn, room service knocking and the TV blaring before I managed to find one of the bathroom light settings – it turned out to be the “romantic setting”. Confused I waddled over and stubbed my toe in the semi-darkness on the step, a beautiful step, up.

From there it just got worse, although everything looked stunning it was totally impractical. The elegant taps disgorged water in to the basin, a beautiful basin, which seemed be specifically designed to channel any fluids directly to your crotch. None of the plethora of knobs in the shower, bath or sink had any helpful markings on them like “hot” or “cold” and the time delay in the shower of knob-adjustment to water temperature-change meant you were either scalded or frozen for the first 5 minutes. But it was a beautiful shower, it even had its own seat.

Back in the room, I wanted to iron my shirt, I got the iron out, but heaven forbid that an ugly electrical socket would disturb the elegance of a wall. I eventually found one and then got out the ironing board, a beautiful ironing board, but it had half a leg missing. I gave up on beauty and ironed on the bed.

The room was an absolute triumph of design over anything practical or usable. The shiny counter tops showed up dust immediately and looked horrible after you touched them or put a cup, a beautiful cup,  down (only €4 to use the in-room coffee machine). The Bang & Olufsen remote was unfathomable with the buttons arranged differently to every other remote I have ever seen. Other design touches included three ridiculous, impractically sized pillows, there was nowhere in the bathroom to put your sponge bag or stuff, you almost needed a grappling hook to get in and out of the bath and once in you scraped yourself on the vastly protruding soap dish – the list went on and on. But all it looked stunning. I decided I needed some inspiration and so found the door knob, a beautiful door knob, and stepped out in to the real world again.

I must have been in Barcelona about 10 times over the past 25 years and each time I have made a pilgrimage to the Sacrada Familia, the amazing Gaudi masterpiece – this is not for any religious reasons – it is just that it too is remarkable to miss. On my first visit, it was basically a façade and a half with some crumbly bits between them. Subsequent visits have been like walking through a building site with no real appreciation for what was being planned, but it was interesting watching the activities of craftsmen chiseling out organic shapes and giant cranes trying to fit the pieces together all shrouded in scaffolding. I was expecting the building-site look again this year, but how wrong can you be.

After paying the €15 entrance fee, I walked in and literally stopped dead in my tracks, flabbergasted for the 2nd time in this trip. The main body, nave and apse have been mostly competed and for the first time, you could get an idea of how magnificent the Basilica is going to be. Gaudi’s aim was to give it an organic feel, and this has been beautifully achieved, with various tree shaped columns sprouting up to the finely detailed roof. Colourful sunlight poured through the stained glass windows, dancing on the pillars and reflected in the marble flooring. I was entranced. I took the lift to the top of the towers, as most of the work is now on the outside with several new towers being constructed, each along the curves and parabolic arches design favoured by this master architect.

I could only spend an hour there, but I have time to go back as the building will only be complete in 2026. It was a wrench to leave, but the memories of Barcelona design, beautiful design, will be with me for a long time to come.

“Multi-Sport” – Argentina
The 11 day tour was billed as a “multi-sport” (level 3) holiday including hiking, rafting, cycling and something called “non-technical” climbing. After a bit of relaxation around the lake of our superb hotel, we started off by jumping on our bikes and off we went (with our guide). Somehow I showed a penchant for up-hill biking and overtook all, even the guide, but going downhill was a different kettle of fish. However, we all made it with minimal pushing in the gorgeous, mountainous Patagonian countryside.
Cycling alternated with hiking as we trekked for up to 25 km per day through forests and national parks, admiring the mountains, lakes, glaciers, and wildlife. One point we were lucky to emerge on gully where condors majestically swooped and dived on the thermals. These, however, were not my favorite bird – this accolade went to a much smaller example that lived next to one of our hotels, it was called an alarm bird and rightly so. Anytime you got anywhere near it, it shrieked warnings which caused its accompanying chicks to freeze, almost perfectly blending in to the undergrowth, and attacking anything or anyone that came close, as a photographer in our party discovered, much to our chagrin.
The exhaustion felt at the culmination of an excursion was nicely tempered by tables groaning with an assortment of drinks, breads and tasty snacks. Victor, our main guide, was a welcome sight as he cheerfully opened a bottle of wine as we emerged, hot and dusty, from our activities.
After 8 days of “warming up” in perfect weather conditions, we crossed the Argentinean border and stopped for a lovely picnic lunch in a forest of monkey puzzle trees, before experiencing the cavity search and passport-stamping frenzy at the Chilean border. We later found out, lunch had to be served before we reached the Chilean border, as you are not allowed to import anything edible -  I not sure the Argentineans like the Chileans very much (and vice versa).

“Multi-Sport” – Chile
Once in Chile we jumped on our bikes to cycle about 35km in to the city of Pucon, where the first night started well, one of the best steak I have probably eaten in my life and more chocolate. At one point I was prompted to make conversation, my response was simply “can’t talk, eating”.
Just near Pucon is the most active volcano in Chile, the Villarrica Volcano, which last erupted in 1971. Here we participated in the most strenuous activity of the trip – the “non-technical” snow covered climb to the crater – 5 kms in length and 1,400 meters elevation gain. Equipped with crampons, ice axe and a plastic mat we started the grueling ascent at about 7:30 am. We had perfect weather, no wind and bright sunshine and we traipsed up and up, over the ice fields and glaciers for what seemed like hours (we actually did it in a relatively fast 3 hours). Reaching the top, I had tears in my eyes, not from the superheated, noxious sulphur gasses, but from relief and joy. Due to the still conditions, these gasses shot up vertically from the main vent meaning we could circumnavigate the entire, massive crater, an uncommon experience our guide informed us as we meditatively chewed down on our packed lunches.
In comparison with the trip up, the decent took less than an hour as we stowed our crampons and got out the plastic mats to literally slide down the side of the volcano. Using the ice axe acting as a break, we barreled down the seemingly almost vertical slopes – brilliant fun. At the bottom, rather a lot of snow had collected under my backpack – removing it, I was accused of pulling a snowman out of my arse – I concurred and am now working on reproducing a scale model of the Titanic, rather than a simple snowman.
But for me, the absolute highlight of the trip was the white water rafting the next day. The class III+ rapids were exhilarating and the competition between our two 6-man inflatables was intense. Our boat, the Bumblebee, was invaded by Victor from his boat, the El Crapo, and he started to forcefully eject people in to the river. He managed to dunk one Bumblebeer, and then advanced towards me but seriously underestimated my obstinacy and, after a bit of a skirmish, ended up himself in the water, with me still sitting pretty. Our skipper was delighted and high-fived me, apparently Victor had not been dunked before. Revenge was short lived though; at the end of the tour, the entire crew of the El Crapo were waiting to get me.. let’s just say, they got me in eventually, but they also suffered a series of knuckle injuries thanks to my trusty paddle as they tried to board.

Buenos Aires
From the joys of Chile, it was back to Buenos Aires, and, flushed with the success of the Patagonia tour, we took a 12 km bike ride round the city to see some of the highlights of “the Paris of the Southern Hemisphere”:

• The first stop, rather insensitively I thought, was the Malvinas (Falkland Islands) Monument which I naturally ignored, pending requested apologies from the Argentinean government.
• La Boca, famed for its multi-coloured houses, a remnant of the original immigrants who used small (non-matching) pots of left-over paint from the harbor to paint their homes. This tradition has morphed in to an art form now and the area is crowded with tourist buses and tango displays.
• The Teatro Colon, the opera house – a beautiful building, whose claim to fame are its world-class acoustics and that it was the biggest in the southern hemisphere, prior to Sydney. Now call me old fashioned, but if I were to name an opera house after a body part, I would probably have chosen something a little more hip, such as “The Elbow” or more suitable “The Cochlear” – but there it is. I mentioned this to the staff and was respectfully informed it was named after Columbus. Who knew?
• The Casa Rosada, the famous pink building with the balcony where Eva Peron sung “Don’t cry for me Argentina” to the crowds – or something like that, my memory is a little vague. It still houses the office of the Argentinian president, who Hilary Clinton thinks should be psychologically tested, according to Wikileaks. This was the top news story during the whole of our stay.
• Plaza de Mayo, a large plaza next to the Casa Rosada and a central starting point for all demonstrations in the capital. Now believe me there are lots of noisy demonstrations in Buenos Aires, so the area was very busy. In fact, they are a little like buses, if you missed the 2:30 demonstration, there was no need to worry as there was typically another one along a few minutes later and sometimes 2 or 3 came along at once.

Uruguay
Our final port of call was a 50 km boat trip away, across the Rio de La Plata or River of Silver, to the World Heritage Site of Colonia de Sacramento in Uruguay. If I thought the number of passport stamps from Argentina to Chile was excessive, entering Uruguay necessitated a positive orgy of stamping, but it was well worth the effort. The day we left it was really hot about 31°c (about 88°f), but Colonia de Sacramento has hundreds of mature sycamore trees lining every street making walking a shady joy.

We ate and drunk and passed many a happy hour perusing the shops and enjoying the laid back atmosphere. We discovered a wonderful bakery that gave us sustenance through the long return stamping process, the boat ride back to Buenos Aires and from there back Germany, where it was colder than Antarctica. Five weeks of being blissed off my chonk, now back to the grindstone and dream of the next Postcard from the Edge.

Getting there – the Ship
My chosen vessel had the promising name of the Antarctic Dream. A sturdy workhorse built in 1958 and, after toiling for the Chilean army, has now taken on the role of cruise liner (it has been spruced up though). It could take a maximum of 82 passengers, but as this was the first tour of the season, it only had 74. Knowing there were a couple of empty cabins, I decided to ditch my assigned room-mate and fenangle a single cabin, so turned up the charm and, using the excuse of a aforesaid room-mate being ill, scored.
The ship had a lot to offer, including a much heralded lecture theatre and spa, both of which turned out to be not quite what was expected. The theatre was home to many interesting lectures on the flora, fauna and wildlife, but due to its position in the bowels of this ship, it had a peculiar, unsettling motion. As a result, when a lecture started, it was a race to get to one of the comfy, hugely padded chairs at the back, but then in the darkness, motion and stuffy atmosphere made keeping your eyes open a bit of a challenge. As for the spa, all I can say is that is wasn’t one.
On the plus side, my single cabin was excellent, the library was delightful and the main dining/common room was extremely comfy and many a happy hour was spent watching breath-taking scenery glide past, whilst playing backgammon or chatting over drinks and snacks. Interestingly all the chairs in this room were subtly chained to floor, this was our first hint of what was in store for us.
Food on the ship was pretty good, although the chef was new and had not quite the hang of all aspects. One meal was noteworthy for temperature and texture mix: hot steaks, tepid potatoes and cold mushrooms made for an interesting assortment. The Argentinean diet tends to be rather heavy on protein, so the desire for fresh fruit and vegetables increased exponentially over the course of the cruise, culminating in the destruction of a decorative display to promote Chilean wines in order to release a lurking kiwi-fruit spotted therein. This was a real team effort, with look outs and people to distract the barman and was a good example of camaraderie on the ship.

The Journey
The cruise started at Ushuaia, self-proclaimed “end of the world” on the tip of southern Argentina, a 3 hour flight from Buenos Aires. From there it was just about 800 kilometers by boat to the peninsular – but there is one major problem – the roughness of Drakes Passage, the sea between Argentina and the Antarctic Peninsula. Named after Sir Frances, it is home to some of the most violent maritime conditions on the planet as the Pacific and Atlantic Oceanic swells clash and seemingly fight for supremacy around Cape Horn. To be honest, the two 2 day / 3 night crossings were pretty grueling.
The ships’ doctor distributed sea-sickness tablets like candy at Halloween, and it quickly became apparent why. Five meter waves crashed over boat and the huge swells meant the pitch and yaw left most people with a nauseous feeling.  During this time, only about half the passengers made it to the dining room, but those who did were treated to the amazing spectacle of twinkle-toed waiters performing death-defying balancing acts whilst bringing plates and drinks, mostly unscathed, to the table. There were several crash, bang, tinkle-tinkles from the kitchen, but only once did an entire tray go down, but it was only cake, which is a shame as I like cake.
Taking a shower was an adventure as you careened uncontrollably across the shower stall on to the scalding hot tap, jerking back, you hit the icy cold support railing and then spasmed in to the all-enveloping, clammy shower curtain before finally coming to rest, panting in a corner, wondering where on earth the soap had ended up.
Sleeping too posed it challenges – now call me old fashioned, but after 45-odd years of practice, I thought I was pretty good at it, not so in the Drakes Passage. Sleeping on your side was impossible as the pitching and yawing of the boat catapults you in to anything else that happens to be flying round cabin. In my case this included bags, water bottles, washing, life vests and, most painfully, the air conditioning unit that detached itself from the wall and went for a nightly meander. The only way to sleep was lying on your front or back combined with tightly fitted sheets (something I abhor under normal circumstances). Once we arrived things calmed down and a plethora of, as yet unseen, passengers appeared – normal sleep positions also resumed.

The Expeditions
But all the perils of the sea and any unpleasant memories faded as we sailed in to calmer waters and got our first glimpses of land and icebergs. Due to some technical, scientifical explanation, icebergs reflect a beautiful, almost eerie, blue light in the sunshine. These glowing, fantastically shaped icebergs joined with huge glaciers, mountainous snow covered peaks to form amazing vistas.
The ship weighed anchor at a place called Half Moon Bay, and the passengers were assigned to different groups to get in the smaller zodiacs to be ferried ashore. I told I was a foca – no, not what you are thinking – it is Spanish for seal, which we concluded was by far the best group as we bumped over the waves to make our first, snowy, footfall.
It was a mixed bag of landings and zodiac cruises over the 5 next days. One phrase we consistently heard is that “conditions can change quickly” and boy, did we experience that. Sometimes we were bathed in glorious sunshine, with crystal clear waters lapping at the base of an ice mountain, sometimes we landed during heavy snow and sometimes a whole excursion had to be canceled due to the conditions. Moral was never low as the crew then substituted alternative activities and lectures.
Whenever we landed, practically the first thing that happened was that a load of inquisitive penguins came down to check us out (unless they were having sex; we arrived in the middle of the breeding season). We stood in lines, them gawping at us, we doing the same, but we had cameras and were not wearing any tuxedos. We saw mostly Chinstrap and Gentoo penguins (yes, you can tell them apart), whose nest-building exploits and subsequent use of them we never got tired of watching (although I did feel a bit like a voyeur). On one zodiac cruise a real highlight happened, our resident ornithologist got very excited and pointed to a huge iceberg, where a single emperor penguin had taken residence. He looked down majestically at us before disappearing in to the blue.
We saw many other animals thanks to our sharp eyed “El Capitain” who could seemingly spot whales at 37 miles out, along with seals, albatrosses, petrels and gulls. We found out later his nickname was “el ojo” (the eye) and he missed nothing; a zodiac illegally driving though an iceberg hole, a misdemeanor at an old whaling station, someone turning off their radio at an inappropriate time, all was noted and subsequently commented on.
Temperatures were surprisingly moderate, on land it was just under freezing point and a nice warm parker and some thermals took care of the cold. After being pretty sedate for almost two weeks, it was not now time to turn the heat and the activity meters up to high, with the second installment of this little break, Postcard from the Edge of a Thrill…

(C) Ian Kimbell 2010

However, the island was lovely and not as desolate as we first expected. The tree lined lanes, which almost formed a tunnel, were picturesque, but I imagine could be deathtraps if you swerve more than a few degrees off true. We left these behind and in our first town we did see some shops, the local steam train and signs for all manner of touristic crap. We drove through and arrived at our hotel in the delightful city of Goehren which was hosting a music festival. Hungry, we decided to try the fish the island is famous for. The scampi we chose fresh of the barbecue looked lovely, but it was half cooked and tasted of lighter fuel – we went for the traditional German sausage after that. The hotel was lovely with beach chairs, pool and a great restaurant – which we only discovered post sausage.

We hired bikes on the first day and cycled down to the southern most point of the island and stopped off to sun bathe on the way back. The beaches were lovely, warm sand, gently sloping to lapping waves (although the water was tepid to say the least). Now, being British, I am used to the rigmarole and procedures of being a on a beach. The farce of getting the deck chair up and the towel wrap to protect from prying eyes whilst trying extract the underwear and get the swimming stuff on. These beaches had a different class of people – the FKK brigade (aka free bodily culture aka nudists). As we sat our newly arrived neighbors simply stripped off and with everything hanging out plunged in to the water, returning wet, with everything still hanging out. I sort of lost my appetite for a while and thought back to my sausage.

The other thing that Ruegen is famous for are Nazis. As the beaches are spectacular and the Graf of Ruegen was seriously in debt to the Nazis – so a deal was closed – a vast swathe of land was purloined to be house the first part of the “Kraft durch Freude” (strength through joy) initiative. The idea was to control every aspect of party-faithful lives and this included their holidays – so a Butlins-type campus was planned and partially erected. The magnitude of the construction is breathtaking. The brief was for a not too tall (less than 5 stories high) resort that could house 20,000 people all with a guaranteed a sea-view and (secretly) could be converted to a military hospital at a moment’s notice. Every detailed of a trip was panned. Arriving you were assigned a number which was your room, assigned beach chair (no arguments and  getting up at 6:00 to put a towel down), lounger and restaurant seat.  The architect Clemens Klotz was up to the challenge and designed the main 4.5km long building, railway station, garage for 3000 cars, 2 sea-water fed swimming pools (100 x 40 meters), a tower restaurant, theater, festival hall to seat everyone and a huge pier to allow passenger ships to dock. Construction began in 1938 and finished prematurely in 1939 years with the outbreak of the war. The shell of the theater and 8 housing blocks were completed and 6 of them are still standing. There is also an impressive collection of memorabilia and information about the 4 other similar holiday camps that were planned. The camp was sadly plundered during the war and fell in to neglect during DDR times. Several of the blocks have recently been sold to investors, but their plans are still pretty nebulous. A definite highlight of the trip.

The next couple of days were spent relaxing and exploring the island – the white cliffs (not a patch on Dover), the dual lighthouses (the 2nd built as the 1st proved to be a bit too short) and long hikes in the forest coming upon follies like the hunting castle with its stupendous staircase and horns everywhere. We also finally managed to get some really good fish, thanks to the now working “Around Me” app – it pointed us to a tiny restaurant just down the road from our hotel with an excellent rating – fresh local fare that rounded off the trip nicely. There was only the drive back, but with such nice memories the trip flew by.