This weekend I had the chance to go to Kepi Rodonit a cape north of the city of Durres in Albania. It has all the elements that would usually make adventure tourists swoon. Picture a hike down cliffs covered in lush greenery to a remote isolated beach, complete with the ruins of a castle built circa 1451-1452 by the national albanian hero Skanderbeg, on a point surrounded by blue water of the Adriatic sea. It’s sunny (mostly…), you are laughing with good friends and when you reach the beach you know a cold beer and some snacks await you. Pretty much perfect right?

Let me show you the photos from that version of the trip.

Start off the hike by exploring the village orthodox church.

Ok so it wasn’t sunny the whole time but the lovely Séverine was prepared!

Looks pretty amazing right?

Shume Mire!!

If you just stopped reading right there and took the trip, I guarantee I would most likely get some hate mail as it turns out something really is missing from the above images… That something is mountains of plastic garbage and one other frightening image.

When I took this picture an albanian friend asked me not to.

I love this picture, but I can’t get over the trash, it ruins it for me.

This beach was the “clean” beach as a restaurant owner there tries to keep up.

The garbage wasn’t the only thing I left out in the first version.

Genci shows off his baby. Don’t worry, he has earned this picture being online.

Is Kepi Rodonit still worth the trip? Absolutely. It really is an incredible place and one I am glad I visited, but I wish I had been a little more prepared for what to expect.

Let this serve as notice to my readers and friends that I refuse to only show one perspective. Bring on the comments, I can take it.

Located on the foot of the Dublin-Wicklow mountains, lies the town of Tallaght. In the language of our Gaelic ancestors it was known as Támh Leacht, which translates as ‘Plague Burial Place’. The Lebor Gabála Érenn (the Book Of Invasions) tells the following, Naoi mile do ecc fri h-aoin-sechtmain do muinter Parthaloin for Shenmhaigh Ealta Eadoir .i. cúig míle d’feroibh, & ceithre míle do mnáibh. Conadh de sin ata Taimhleacht Muintere Parthalain. Trí ced bliadhain ro caithsiot i n-Erinn.This translates as, “Nine thousand of them died there, the people of Parthaloin, within weeks on the plain of the flocks near Eadoir. I. Five miles about, & four thousand women. So swollen was Taimhleacht a Muintere Parthalain. Three hundred died too elsewhere that year in Erinn.”

Parthalon was the son of a Greek King who had killed his father in order to succeed to the throne but instead had to flee with his wife and followers. After 7 years wandering they arrived in Ireland. According to the Annals of the four masters the Parthalons arrived in Ireland around 2,600 B.C. Upon arrival they are said to have defeated the Fomorians whom were the native tribe in Ireland at the time. It is believed that it was the Fomorians whom built such places as Newgrange & Knowth which predate the Pyramids of Eygpt. It is said that the Parthalon’s lived in Ireland for approx 300 years when nine thousand of them were wiped out by a mysterious plaque in one week.

by Meg Scanlon

Think this is what Camelot looked like? Think again.

When I say the word “Camelot” what do you think of?

Probably a grandiose medieval castle made of stone with turrets and spires, something out of a fairy tale. And that is how it has been portrayed in drawings, movies and TV shows.

(Full disclosure, my Camelot does have some of these elements, but I’ve also given you a logical explanation of why it could be possible. In that, I’m invoking the fantasy side of the genre of historical fantasy. But all of the other castles in my books are true to the time period.)

But the reality of Celtic castles, if we assume King Arthur lived somewhere in the late fifth to early sixth century, is very different. In fact, the word “castle” really doesn’t even accurately describe them. They were more like fortifications than homes. For the most part, rulers didn’t have permanent residence there. The castles were protection for the surrounding populous and their livestock in case of attack.

Cadbury Castle in Somerset, which some believe to be the real location of Camelot. (Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons)

Most Celtic castles were likely hillforts, which kind of resemble what would later become the motte and bailey style of castle. They were based on large earthenwork hills. The castle itself was at the top in the center, surrounded by one or more wooden palisades, and usually at least one earthen wall or ditch. There are many where the hill is terraced and each terrace has wooden walls and earthen ditches or ramparts to make it even more difficult for the enemy to succeed in siege.

The castle itself was likely to be wooden because timber was readily available. The exception is that stone was plentiful in Highland Scotland, and some British rulers, especially on the western coast, were thought to have fortified their wooden castles using stone. But they didn’t build them the way we picture until the 10th century. In fact, castles as we think of them didn’t come into prominence until the reign of Edward I, who is credited with building the great castles of Northern Wales.

These hillforts would have been defended with arrows, swords, axes and spears, along with sling shots. In order to conquer one, the enemy (depending on what technology they had available) may have used ballista bolts in addition to pure manpower.

Examples of hillforts in Arthurian legend include Traprain Law (King Lot’s capital in Lothian), Badon (if one takes Solsbury Hill outside of Bath to be the location of the battle of mount Badon), Maiden Castle (which is linked to several Arthurian stories), and Cadbury (which Geoffrey Ashe and many other scholars believe is the true location of Camelot).

Tintagel, long thought to be Arthur’s birthplace. (Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons)

But what about Tintagel, you might ask?  It’s the most famous surviving castle linked to Arthurian legend (Arthur’s birthplace) and it’s made of stone. We know the site was occupied during what I’ll call the Arthurian period, but the castle itself dates to the 13^th century. I’ll be visiting Tintagel in less than a month, so I can tell you more when I get back.

PS – Scholars can’t agree on if Camelot existed, much less where. Someday I’ll do a post on some of the possible locations. What I’ve described here is typical of the time period, but we may never know for sure what Camelot really looked like.

—–

Sources
British Forts in the Age of Arthur by Angus Konstam
Strongholds of the Picts by Angus Konstam
Fighting Techniques of the Medieval World by Matthew Bennett and Jim Bradbury, et al
There are probably more because I wrote most of this post from memory. Please check my research page for more possible sources.

How do you picture Camelot? What have you seen portrayed in movies, books or TV? Are there any other Arthurian castles you’re curious about?

We made our way to the nearby Hotel Italia where we had reservations, dropped off our bags, and went back out into the chaos. Many streets were blocked off to traffic, and crowds of onlookers filled the squares and sidewalks. Before long, we opted for an early lunch and ducked into one of my favorite spots, Buffet Da Pepi. Given how much Mike loves all things pork, I had been waiting several years to introduce him to their piatto misto, a pig-shaped platter of assorted types of pork—including ham, bacon, sausage, and tongue—served with sauerkraut, mustard, and freshly grated horseradish. We also split a bowl of liptauer cheese, which was served with slices of rye bread. As I later learned in Vienna, liptauer is typically mixed with a number of savory ingredients such as onion, anchovies, capers, mustard, pickles, parsley, chives, and caraway seeds, as well as paprika, which colors the dish a vivid pinkish orange. In Trieste, however, I always found liptauer to be white in color; at Buffet Da Pepi, the cheese was light and fluffy with a strangely bitter flavor.

After lunch, we crossed the vast Piazza dell’Unità d’Italia, which was jammed with parked cars and people milling about the various kiosks. Our next stop was Pasticceria Penso, where I had made friends with the Stoppar family on my last visit to Trieste. Antonello was working, and after a brief chat—it was nearly time for the bakery to close for the afternoon—we bought two pastries to share: a slice of dobostorte (Hungarian sponge cake layered with chocolate buttercream and topped with caramel) and a granatina (a triangle of chocolate mousse reminiscent of the Hungarian cake called rigojancsi). We ate our treats a couple blocks away at the Molo dei Bersaglieri while waiting for the boat to Castello di Miramare.

The ride took nearly an hour, but it was well worth it to approach the castle from the sea. Even though the sky was overcast, the whitewashed Miramare was an imposing sight, perched on its promontory overlooking the dark, churning waters. From the harbor of Grignano, it was a short walk uphill to the castle’s entrance. As soon as we arrived, it started raining—this was the second time it had rained on me there, and I would have to wait and get those elusive “blue sky” pictures another day.

We stayed only long enough to tour the castle’s lavish apartments. Miramare was home to Archduke Maximilian (brother of the Hapsburg emperor Franz Joseph) and his young wife, Carlotta of Belgium—that is, until Maximilian was captured and executed in Mexico. From the outside, the castle’s stark white façade appears to be taken straight from the pages of a fairytale. Inside, the rooms are decorated with sumptuous furnishings, all dating back to the mid-19th century. There were Chinese- and Japanese-style drawing rooms, an enormous red and gold throne room, a library containing around seven thousand books, Maximilian’s study designed in the style of a ship’s cabin, and a music room where Carlotta often played the piano. We had planned on taking the bus back to Trieste, but after waiting for some time, we realized it wasn’t running, most likely due to the bike race. Fortunately, we were able to catch a return boat.

That evening for dinner, I was thrilled to finally have a dining companion, so we splurged on the elegant (and expensive!) Ristorante Al Bagatto. I started with the zuppa di pesce (fish soup), which was unusual—at least in my experience—in that the mussels, clams, and other shellfish had already been shelled. Mike ordered his all-time favorite pasta dish, spaghetti alla carbonara.

Next, even though it was not on the menu, I requested scampi alla busara. The menu did list spaghetti alla busara, but I was more interested in trying the seafood without the pasta, since it was on my lengthy list of recipes to try. The chef was happy to accommodate my wishes, and served a plate of langoustines alla busara—in a light sauce of tomatoes, garlic, and parsley. The shellfish were tricky to pick apart, not to mention super messy. Although they were extremely delicious, it was almost not worth the effort for the miniscule amount of meat inside.

While it was gratifying to cross off another dish from my list, I felt envious of Mike’s yummy-looking plate of fritto misto. Never before had I seen such teeny tiny creatures deep fried in my life! Fortunately for me, Mike has always been generous when it comes to food. Exquisitely crisp, those morsels of baby octopus and tiny fish crunched like popcorn and burst with the saltiness of the sea.

By the time we left the restaurant, rain was pouring down in sheets, and the wind was blowing the drops practically sideways. We were drenched by the time we reached our hotel. Nevertheless, I was overjoyed to finally be sharing Italy with the love of my life.

Jack, Lisa & I instantly decided we would somehow wind up visiting that castle.

Our accommodation for the week was a penzion called Trio. It had everything going for it—the school where we were teaching that week was two buildings away, the rooms were spacious & clean, they offered WiFi to their guests, and, maybe most importantly, the grounds doubled as a bar/restaurant/pizzeria.

What more could one ask for?

***

On Monday, Jack, Lisa & I decided to take advantage of the nice weather and check out the aforementioned Strečno Castle. Using the internet at the accommodation, I located the castle on Google Maps—there was a bit of confusion, though, because I found a castle very nearby to Strečno that was simply labled ‘Stary Hrad.’ This directly translates into ‘old castle,’ so I assumed it must be the one for which we were aiming. Then I spotted Strečno Castle.

The confusion was immediately washed away by utter enthusiasm—it’s not every day that you find two castles previously unbeknownst to you within walking distance of each other.

And so our day of castling began.

We took the bus to Strečno and, when we got off, just walked in the direction of the castle—we figured signs had to pop up eventually. And they did, too. Following a marked path through some trees, we eventually came upon a team of construction workers putting together some touristy, wooden stands near the bottom of the castle. Luckily for us, there was a blazed trail off to the left—the kind made by loads of people sick of walking through touristy, wooden stands. This route took us up the hill in a dramatic fashion, allowing the castle to open up with the sky most theatrically.

View of Strečno Castle as we approached from the road below.

The views became progressively more dramatic as we climbed higher and higher.

Trying to get the most intense view of everything that I can.

We didn’t know it at the time, but we had actually approached the castle from the rear, avoiding the main entrance and the woman working at the gate entirely.

Jack: “Look, Chris. Everything the light touches is our kingdom.”
Chris: “Everything the light touches…but what about that shadowy place?”
Jack: “That’s where the woman lives that sells tickets to get into the castle. You must never go there, Chris.”

The original construction of the castle started in the 13^th Century and, like most castles in Slovakia, ownership of the property changed hands many times over the course of many years. I’m sure we would have heard much more about all of this had we paid to visit the museum inside the castle—this is not what we were concerned with, though. The day was growing old and we wanted to survey the river basin below from the spot where we were perched on the castle walls (where we probably should not have been in the first place…) for a little bit longer before moving on to our next castle which was a 3.5 kilometer walk away.

The ticket woman really hated it when we started doing this…

The skies started darkening and it eventually drizzled for a little bit. It wasn’t discouraging, though. It just added to the overall mood in a fantastic way.

Because Spring decided not to show its face this year, the budding of the trees has been proceeding at a rapid fire rate. As we walked from Strečno Castle to Stary Hrad, greens of every shade popped out at us from amongst the tops of the trees. It was a great effect, but, in addition, these soon-to-be leaves did a good job at half-concealing the castle in just the right way.

We turned a corner that coincided with a bend in the river and, suddenly, we saw our destination high above us. But we couldn’t quite see it enough. Not enough to say anything along the lines of, “Well, we’ve seen it. No point in going up there now.”

Not that we would ever say that. But you get the point.

We continued along the path, making our way to the backside of the castle (we weren’t too worried about this route since we were 1 for 1 with backsides of castles that day) and eventually started our climb up to the ruins.

When we arrived, it was like some sort of fantasy-lovers dream come true. What was left of the fortifications was swarming with fallen leaves and vines through each stone and crevice; what had once evidently been luxurious halls and rooms had devolved by the means of time into open-air courtyards, lined with intricate patterns of roots and branches; walls of stone stood randomly—as if they had grown naturally out of the rock foundation beneath the hill’s top layer of earth.

One of the remaining walls sitting idly between some trees on the edge of the hill.

We walked on through the lush, green shell of the castle and approached a natural staircase of roots and well-trodden dirt that led to the section of the castle that has remained most intact: the tower. It is high and mighty—maybe about 40 or 50 feet in height—and beneath it is a small labyrinth of rooms and passageways which can still be explored. In one of the rooms, the wall has been knocked out, forming a fantastic window for hikers to gaze down at the Váh River valley below.

The tower rising out of the highest point of the hill.

View of the river valley through one of the castle windows.

A tree that has allowed its roots to take hold in between the stones of one of the castle walls.

You don’t find this in American suburbia.

Lisa getting risky.

Stary Hrad has followed my self-formed ‘Law of Castles’ to date. This law states the following: whichever castle I have most recently visited will undoubtedly rank as my favorite castle of all time. I don’t think there’s an actual, legitimate science to it, but this always seems to happen to me. It is quite the internal struggle.

Stary Hrad has a mystic feel to it that no other castle has ever given me, though. It was like truly stepping back in time. Surreal and fantastic.

***

On Tuesday, Jack, Lisa & I went to Žilina after school to attend a football match (check out my blog post “Entrenched in Trenčín” to read about the last football match all attended and the night that ensued afterward.) Unfortunately, the cheapest ticket to enter the arena—which was admittedly quite a nice building—was €10.

It would have been fun, but not that fun.

Instead, we wandered into the city center. Žilina is a pretty big city with over 80,000 residents; we have heard tell that it is an enjoyable place but had never seen it for ourselves. The old town turned out to be incredibly charming. We posted up with some beers at an outdoor restaurant in the main square (it is rejuvenating to be able to sit outside comfortably again) and split a double order of French fries. It was the right decision.

Žilina’s football team lost that night. Serves them right.

On Wednesday and Thursday, we did some wandering into nearby villages—Višňové & Trnové, respectively—taking in the surrounding views as well as a few beers at their local pubs.

One of our walks led us past this field of sheep and goats. It’s not an amazing picture…but I really like sheep and goats.

These were pretty uneventful strolls, except for the fact that we discovered some hiking trails which provided us with entertainment for the weekend. More information will come about that, though.

***

On the teaching end of things, the students were pretty fun. Jack and I had been sharing two classes all week—a common tactic used by our company so that the students can learn from teachers with different accents/vocabularies. Plus, we have to plan less when we do it.

One afternoon, the younger class was working on creating maps of imaginary towns—labeling them with all the proper things a decent map should have. One group called me over and showed me that the main street in the town had been named after me.

I was flattered and grateful.

But then, out of nowhere, they revolted, demanding that I provide them with my surname for the sole purpose of finding me on Facebook (I had tried to convince them all week that I was raised by wolves and that, consequently, wolves do not have surnames or Facebook profiles. They did not buy into this.) They chanted and raged—slamming fists on the table and making me watch in public humiliation as they changed the name of my imaginary street, renaming it after Jack.

I immediately began having flashbacks from our week spent in Nitra when a class of younger students—who I had agreed to teach for one lesson because Jack wanted a break from their antics—started a small revolution to have Jack back in the classroom (check out the end of my post “Nice to Meet Ya, Nitra” to read about this outrageous classroom uprising.)

I eventually caved in and gave them my surname.

Damn kids.

But they did change the name of the street back to my name. I suppose you have to pick up your own dignity somehow.

***

In other news, I tried a pizza that Thursday night which was called the “New York Pizza”—it came with French fries cooked into the cheese as a topping.

It wasn’t so good. The fries were pretty soggy. But it was worth a try, I guess.

Today’s Recommended Song: Chadwick Stokes & Sierra Leone’s Refugee All-Stars – “All My Possessions”

It’s a rainy day. Good opportunity for some more writing and the next chapter of A Game of Thrones.

See ya!

There is a statue of Anonymus in the castle’s courtyard. Anonymus was a chronicler of a Hungarian king (probably Béla III) during the 12^th century, but his true identity was unknown.

I am not the biggest fan of the middle-ages these days. I love that that fantasy fiction is branching out into other periods. As a kid I was all about Knights, Crusades, and Castles but these days I realize that the Medieval period was a pretty tough time for Western Civilization; the rest of the world had much more interesting time of things; Islamic Civilizations were flourishing, the Mongols and Vikings were making an impact, China was lofty and mighty, and Japan was getting very interesting. Nonetheless, no matter how much I try to distance myself from that period, there is an undeniable appeal to the middles ages. I enjoy a wondrous tale with Castles and Knights as much as any other form, but I do grow tired of the elementary mistakes that some authors make when they add Fantasy elements into their battle scenes.

Take fortifications as an example. The castles of the middle ages were made to ward off assault by anything and everything that could be brought against them. However, Fantasy elements change the field dramatically. What if necromancy is commonly used in warfare in your world? A castle will have to change to ward off ghosts and attack by incorporeal entities. Perhaps the walls are lined with lead, have a prayer sealed in each stone, or runes written on the bricks to keep them out. The graveyards and refuse pits will look very different if your enemy can raise the dead to fight for them (just ask any Dwarf Fortress player). A moat is not much of an obstacle to some kids of zombie attack. I like it when an author put some effort into considering the effects of the more common Fantasy elements on their world. Castles were ubiquitous because they were pretty damned effective.

I’ll start off by detailing the more common features and tactics of Medieval warfare. This is very, very general and covers a big period of time.

The Knights

Knights are a staple of Fantasy. Trained from a young age to fight on foot and from horseback they are the pinnacle of combat at the time.

• Cavalry Warfare dominated the middle ages. Many tacticians at the time felt that the Knight’s charge was an unbeatable tactic (not true. really, but it was the dominant tactic).
• Knights wore expensive custom fitted armour that gave them a huge advantage over the majority of soldiers of the day. Even early Chain Hauberks provided superb protection and later suits of armour were almost impenetrable. Scholars still argue about how good plate armour was, but even those arguments range from really effective to crazy effective. All you need to know is that it could stop a lance strike and most arrows would deflect right off a cunningly angled suit.  However, the weight of the armour meant that all but the hardiest of wearers would tire quickly if they had to fight on foot.
• A Knight’s Horses are of singular importance. A good horse had to be well-trained, since being thrown in the middle of a battle could be very bad. As the weight of armour grew, bigger horses were needed. Eventually even the horses were heavily armoured.  At the height of the middle ages there were many different breeds and types of horse, all used for different purposes. Feed for horses was a logistical concern as well.
• Due to the expense of the armour, horses, and proper weapons Knights were relatively rare. Battle descriptions at the time listed them separately from soldiers.
• Knights were an aristocratic warrior class, much like modern view of the Spartans or the Samurai. We often look down on them these days, but a properly trained Knight would have been fighting since a young age and expert in the use of horse, armour (yes, using armour is a skill), and multiple weapons. They were pretty serious business.

Swordproof. Imagine how modern warfare would change if soldiers were as bullet resistant as armoured vehicles.

Castles

Castles are another staple of the middle ages. Many of the most impressive of them were nearly impregnable, vulnerable mostly to treachery or starvation. At the time secular power was far more based around force and loyalty, which made control of territory based around what you could hold through strength of arms (big generalization). Castles and strongholds were the focal point of this system. They required that an invader stop and attack them, or risk having their supply lines attacked if they bypassed the castle. Attacking the castle took time, which would allow the defending power to muster a force to counter the invader.

• The science of fortification advanced throughout the middle ages and even beyond (I’ll talk about Vauban and the Star Forts when I cover later periods)
• They were often built in places where building siege engines was impractical, and nobody likes dragging a trebuchet around or trying to find ammo for the things. Even if an enemy did manage to get one in place, rubble filled walls and sally ports could frustrate their use.
• Gate mazes, Barbicans, Moats, Murder Holes, and Machicolations are just some of the crazy defences that made attacking a well stocked castle a tough proposition.
• Castles were bloody expensive (including maintenance), and took a long time to build. Many were improved over lifetimes. The inheritance of a strong castle was an issue of tremendous importance.
• Castles also acted as the muster point for footmen.

Krak de Chevaliers. You won’t have fun storming this castle…

Footmen, Archers, Mercenaries, and others forces

Professional Armies, like the Legions were a thing of the past during most of the middle ages. The Dark Ages had resulted in a serious decentralization of power, at least secular power. Each lord was responsible for bringing his own troops to battle. Some free yeomen had to be able to equip themselves and fight, but this was rarer. Archers were somewhat useful for breaking up a charge and more useful for hurting enemy footmen, but it was cannons and the centralization of power not the Welsh Longbow or the Crossbow that ended Knighthood.

• Footmen were armed and armoured according to the standards of their lord. Polearms and spears were common since they helped unhorse a knight or opposing Cavalry. Despite this the battle between Knight and footmen was extremely unequal at the best of times. 
• Levies were often little more than fodder who would try to finish off/capture unhorsed knights.
• Archers were mostly useless against a well equipped Knight on the field. Specialty archers/crossbowmen found some success, but these were rarer (It is also a matter of great debate). Archers were always vital to siege warfare.
• Professional footmen and specialist troops found in mercenary companies, papal armies, and fighting for rich lords were much more effective. Some of these could even stand up to a charge when in proper formation. Later in the period centralization of power would put these footmen would put these footmen on a more even footing with Knights with better equipment and training.
• Skirmishers still acted as an excellent screen, when used.
• Cavalry units other than knights were less common, but still used.

Tactics in the Medieval Period

Tactics in the medieval period were a bloody mess. The decentralized nature of power meant that drill and training were reserved for the Knights and those who could afford mercenaries, veteran footmen, and the very very wealthy lords who could field sizable forces. This bring your own approach made for a rather chaotic battlefield.

• In open battle one could expect a charge by knights, sometimes supported by heavy cavalry. The real danger would be opposing knights for the most part. Being unhorsed left a knight in a bad position due to the weight of armour. They weren’t helpless, just actually vulnerable to mass attack by footmen or any attack by another knight. The charge would mow down any footmen it encountered, unless they were well trained and equipped. Archers might give one side an advantage here by breaking formations or maybe downing a few knights. 
• More intelligent commanders often held the Knights in reserve instead of opening with them. Hitting an opposing group of knights while they were bogged down with footmen was a favoured tactic.
• Battles tended to take place in the open. Knights kinda sucked in forests.
• Siege Warfare was an entirely different matter. Knights were far more vulnerable. Archers were more effective. Often the attacker just starved the defender out, but if a tough castle needed to be taken and treachery was not an option it got real ugly real fast.
• Borders were much more fluid, and front-lines were almost unheard of.
• Being able to cut an enemy armies supply train could lead to their defeat before the battle even started. Foraging was possible, but living off the land was not the best option unless there was a town that could be plundered.

There is a great deal more complexity to it than that, and a fair bit of academic controversy over how effective certain tactics and arms really were, but it gives a decent overview of the nature of warfare in this period. Enough at any rate to see what the introduction of some fantasy elements will do to a medieval world.

Mounts, Magical Equipment, and the Knight

Knights were outfitted with the best arms and armour. Period.. The more powerful the knight, the better their equipment. Can’t afford the gear? You might be out of the club. In a Fantasy setting this gets very interesting.

• If enchantment is possible, Knights will enchant weapons and armour. Depending on the rarity of magical arms this might further stratify the Knightly caste with those who are able to afford enchantments or have access to an enchanter having an advantage over their peers. 
• If armour can be enchanted or made from materials that can resist more advanced missile weapons it could extend the age of chivalry significantly.
• Just like armour and weapons Knights will have the best mounts they can get. Different mounts can change the face of medieval warfare. If your Knights ride Griffons a fall will be more lethal and castle defences will have to incorporate some war of repelling/resisting aerial assaults. Unusual mounts require different foods and thus change the nature of the society that provides their needs. Dragons might be brilliant mounts with the fire-breathing and the flying, but all that meat has to come from somewhere… and what if they are particular to say, people?
•  The nature of Knightly power rested in being the best. Once other forms of combatants could challenge them, they vanished from the field.
• Knights with magic or personal enchantments become very interesting. David Farland’s Runelords series has a great take on a knightly system where the dominant class borrows the strength of others, creating super-human knights. Increased strength allows a knight to wear more armour and carry heavier weapons.

Opposing Tactics

• Armoured Giants or trained ogre footmen could put an end to the knightly order (or create a new one I suppose) if used frequently. If Knights aren’t the pinnacle combatant on the field they become too expensive to be useful.
• Fantasy Horde tactics are not that effective against Knights. (The Mongols were a horde, but they used very intelligent tactics) Poorly equipped and trained orcs would not fare that much better against Knights even with their superior strength and toughness. They would need to be able to form up and use pikes to stand against a charge or use some of the tactics that the Scots used against the English armies. Tolkien is quite right to have the Rohirim run roughshod over the Orcs on the plains before Minas Tirith.
• Orcish knights on the other hand…
• Terrain plays a big factor in Knightly Dominance. Knights are less effective in forests, swamps, and cities.

Magic and the Nature of Feudal Power

• Wizards change medieval warfare. If wizards can use spells that can get through armour at a rance and are common enough to be used in warfare, the age of Knighthood is likely over (unless your knights have some form of defence against magic). 
• Fortifications become less useful if they can’t stop a wizard.
• If magic is hereditary and powerful then wizards will likely replace Knights at the top of the feudal food chain. This is something that annoys me to no end in Fantasy fiction. Feudalism is based on inheritance of power. In theory the aristocrats were a finer breed, but in truth their power was in wealth, weapons, training, and castles. If magic is hereditary and powerful then it becomes the new basis for feudalism, unless some other factor prevents it (and don’t say religion, or I’ll say divine kingship). The same is true for any form of hereditary magic power such as a mystic birthright that makes a family stronger. Unless the Knights have some sort of trump card they become a lesser order that is too expensive to maintain. I have serious problem with Fantasy novels that portrays magic as both powerful and hereditary, and still have non-magical knights ruling over society. Unless something is limiting the wizards their power would dictate that they become the centre of the feudal structure or at least a competing power.

There are a host of other Fantasy elements that change the structure of Medieval Warfare, the best approach is to sit down and consider what impacts a new element will have on the dominant assets (knights and castles) and tactics of the day. Often these details can make for exciting battles in your game or novel that will resonate with readers, and perhaps even lead to some truly interesting world building.

After the Mass the old codgers (tut-tut – I might soon be one of them!) were to be entertained in the new parish centre, opened in 2002,  also the social, cultural and recreational heart of Ghivizzano – a 900 sq. metres complex which serves its purposes well (comprising the annual dinner given to all those who have contributed significantly to the glory of Ghivizzano – including our choir, as we deliciously found out last year). Those over 90 years old are given a special mention and certificate.

Our choir sang brilliantly as ever and I took the chance of taking the following picture of this devoted band which includes one who has been a member for sixty years. The sacristan, a sprightly veteran of well-over eighty, presented me with a little book on Ghivizzano which, with its annual living crib, norcino festival, recently-restored castle, song of the Befana and “night under the stars” in summer is livelier that one would at first think. Certainly, the old castle quarter is well worth visiting with its unique fortified gallery, keep, walls, pieve and picturesque streets.

In case you missed the television broadcast of the Christmas concert, in which our choir performed, at San Francesco Monastery in Borgo a Mozzano here is a chance to hear it again.

(PS Ghivizzano was once also noted for its “Cinema Modernissimo” in which we attended a Benigni film some years back. The ticket-seller, the projectionist, the pop-corn vendor, the usherette and the owner were one and the same person and I felt that he could also have been the blanket-distributor for it was bloody cold that winter when we were part of the – indeed the  entire – audience).

On the way back I passed Fornoli where the Sunday fair was, regrettably, somewhat of a complete washout due to the persistent rain. O dear, haven’t we had enough of the wet stuff!

I had climbed the ladder and joined Grigorio in the ‘castle’ of our vessel so named for its assumption of an appearance of a tower replete with battlements, befitting a tower one might observe as beloning to a castle’s fortification. The castle is situated at the stern of these types of vessels, and serves to protect the rudderman who is essential for steering the ship’s course. This particular vessel’s tiller was a curious piece, and instead of bulky piece of swift-hewn wood, was instead a crafted pole, pommeled by a serpent, and sheathed by leather skin stretched around the tiller two feet in length measured from the pommel.

Grigorio, who apparently was far more intimate with this ship’s peculiarities than he initially intimated, had assumed the responsibility of rudderman, and as I entered, he glanced up in anticipation of my joining him in that glorified maritime booth.

“We must shake off the guards or our heads will roll yet,” I exclaimed to Grigorio, whose brows lowered at the assertion.. “I knew there was a reason I was so earnest in bringing you along,” was the response, and the accompanying grimace I caught in the glance I shot over suggested the remark was double edged. Undaunted, I continued, “We need to make to the isle of Sant’Erasmo, we can lose these louts in the sand spits and reefs, and hide away by night.”

“Hide! My dear fellow, we’lll outrun these fellows yet, have some confidence–” but as Girgorio ended his retort, arrows whistled past our heads and lodged into the deck and mast of one of the lateen sails. The din produced by the collective of ships pursuing us was carried to our ears by the winds of Zephyr and reminded us that the fox could not so easily outrun the greyhounds without stratagem.

“Well then, good sir,” Grigorio began, doing his best to look undisquieted, “what device do you have for unchaining us from this dark fate?” For the first time in hours, I truly paused. The morning sun had quickly galloped across the sky as the rest of the cosmos orbited around Terra Nostra, while we two displaced persons were for a moment in time locked to a course which would likely end our lives sooner than our naiveté would have preferred or expected. The waves lifted and rocked our vessel, as a mother is wont to do with her babe, and as the sea cradled us along in emerald embrace, the gulls piped madly overhead, goaded on by the cocaphany of sounds below, anticipating the excitement of a well-struck kill.  The scent of salt and odor of pending death lashed our nostrils in a fusion that prodded a sensation of despair and determination to yet escape what was seemingly spun out for us.

Grigorio’s piloting coupled with the easterly winds had flung us headlong into the straits dividing the Isla of Certosa and Sant’Erasmo, upon whose earth Roman nobles in the time of Imperium built churches and villas to escape the bogs surrounding the now desolate ruins of Aquileia, which Attila the Hun destroyed in his godless rampage centuries ago. These islands are northeast of the city of Venice, and were our best gamble to dock our ship discreetly recruit a crew. The waters within this massive lagoon are shielded from open sea by two limbs of land, allowing us to keep abreast of the city guards, but we would not long be able to sustain such a massive effort if we could not port at some commune on one of the isles within this swampy province and recruit a crew for our ultimate venture.

To do that required us to first outmaneuver the militia that still doggedly tracked us while Helios’ celestial body inexorably began to finish his journey around the sapphire dome. We had passed the southern tip of Sant’Erasmo, and with hand on tiller, Grigorio had set us northbound. The peninsula that formed one of the arms enclosing the lagoon was to our east, and Sant’Erasmo was now port side. The waters became constricted, as spits of sand and earth jutted up through the  water in a labyrinthine arrangement that would have rivaled the fabled Minos of Krete.

Grigorio and I silently shared the same calculation; here we could lose, or at least stall the city guards, but it was a high risk, where choosing the wrong passageway, so to speak, would end with the destruction of our vessel, and render us helpless to our enemies.

As evening descended, so too did a thick fog, and as I looked what followed our vessel, I saw the elements produced a sheen of pale blood tint to the weapons and gildings of the ships, like some ghostly vision or daemon alluding to a night of bloodshed.

“Grigorio– we must heave starboard, lest we be torn asunder or beached unwantingly by the jutting reefs and hidden sandbars.” But true to his self-assured nature, Grigorio stuck to his course. I could see grains of sand reflecting off the fog and in some cases, the washed out greys of both sand fog would meld together, as if we had entered into a nether that Nature herself produced for our final doom. Grigorio deftly maneuvered through the reefs and sand bars, while our closest purssuant did not fare so fortunately.

A sharp crack followed by the pitter of hundreds of shards of splinters striking the rollicking waters alerted crew of all ships involved of a hull unintentionally grinding against the reefs and being split open like the stomach of a boar after it is slain by victorious hunters. The accompanying groan as the ship’s hull creaked like the rattling of a skeleton disturbed from deathly slumber roused the crew, and their desperate shouts as they sought to gauge and repair the damage echoed across the straits.

The militia’s setback was unexpected, and so confident were they in ultimately apprehending us, they thought nothing of following us into the fog’s embrace, casting aside maritime discipline for what they thought would be an easy kill. The beached ship proved a bottleneck in our pursuers’ progress, as the other ships sought to either come to the distressed crew’s aid or attempt to navigate a safer passage around the reefs. However, there is limited amount of water deep enough to not risk disembowling the ship’s hull through these straits, and so upon finding they could not secure a route that would recover lost time, the ships withdrew.

Whether they retreated either back to Venetian ports or to circle around the other side of the isle, we knew not.

All we knew is that our calculation had paid off in full, at least for the moment, and in this moment of exultation, Girgorio lifted his torso above the stern tower’s ramparts and exclaimed into the fog, “That is the fate of all those who seek to render Grigorio Fleet-Tiller helpless and a prisoner!” The fading light shown only glimmers of helmets and spears, and distant shadows of mens’ bodies. A voice returned an answer, that made my heart flutter with a verve of anguish, and even Grigorio, confident as he was in that triumphant moment, drew pause: “What fate, Swiftknife? The chase has yet begun!”

Our castle rests upon clouds in the sky
Where we have lived for centuries on high
Here we may walk forever hand in hand
For this is our private magical land
Betwixt clouds and kaleidoscope rainbows
And in twilight where silvery moon glows
Thy lute plays sweetly, music ne’er without
Melodic tales of love, there is no doubt
In my dreams, I e’er walk to where you stand
Forever there waiting with outstretched hand
Safe, I wish to e’er remain in your arms
Here I find joy in your enchanting charms
My doubts are erased by your loving scent
An alluring fragrance that’s heaven sent
And eyes that twinkle in warm glow of light
Your smile e’er uplifts me with pure delight
Nestled in clouds with blue and silver hue
I stand proudly side by side next to you
In our castle of dreams which we call home
A magical place where our love may roam

© Roxi St. Clair

Sunrise over Broadford Bay.

The morning sun on

Nice morning for a wee walk Don, can you that a photo of me? Aye!

The sunrise told me that today we were going to be seeing some more stunning places. We were soon on the bus, sans coffee unfortunately, and heading off on our circumnavigation of the Isle of Skye. But when the lack of a good morning coffee is the only problem of the day, it is still a very good day.

Our morning bus ride started with another of Don’s great stories. Over about half an hour we heard about the rivalry MacLeods and the MacDonalds, two of  Skye’s clans that spent hundreds of years killing each other. The story also involved the Isle of Skye’s mischievous King of Fairies and a pretty young lass losing an eye. By the end of the story, we were off the bus, standing next to an icy stream.

This is where we found out that the way to make to make yourself beautiful again, including if you have lost an eye, is to plunge your face into the icy waters of this stream for 7 seconds. And when we found this out at the end of the story, Don’s face went into the stream. His reasoning was that the stream would make anyone who did this more beautiful.

Here we go!

Some tried it even though they didn’t need to.

It was very cold but very refreshing. I tried it as well, but unfortunately I haven’t seen an improvement in my looks.

The view had held its face under the icy waters.

We were then back on the yellow bus with our faces refreshed and headed into Portree, the largest town on Skye. Here we were we found a good coffee and tasty food from MacKenzie’s Bakery. It was really enjoyable to wander around this classic Hebridean town.

I can recommend Mackenzie’s Bakery in Portree for good pies and pastries.

Me in front of the Sound of Raasay and the mountains of Skye. Good work with the camera Amber.

Having filled up with good food and coffee in Portree, we all got back to the bus and Don took us further north. Next stop was for a wee bit of a wander along the sea-side cliffs to take in the views over the North Sea. By this point in the morning, it was really turning into a stunning day.

How good is this for a view! This is looking across Rona to the Scottish Mainland.

Ben contemplating life on the Isle of Skye.

Chloe taking in the view.

Amber and the hills of Skye.

A wee boat steaming out into the North Sea.

Steph, Kate and Ben appreciating the blue sky and sunshine after a long, dark winter in London.

Another funny picture on a warning sign.
Although my favourite one that I’ve seen on my travels is still this sign that I saw when I cycled the Loire.

It was really good to see the sea again.

“C’mon Josh, stop taking photos and get your bahookie back on the bus.”
“Aye Don, I’m coming. Just let me take a photo of the bus.”

So I got back onto the bus. Don took us away from the sea into a mountain pass to get to the western side of Skye. He told us that we were going to stop at special spot at the top of the pass where we could go walking up in the hills. The car park at the top of the pass was full and Don was really disappointed that he would have to stay at the bus and not come walking up the hill with us.  This made me think we would be walking up to a pretty special spot. And we were.

The team walking towards to top of the world.

Amber powering up the hill.

Chloe’s contemplation time.

Don found somewhere to park the bus and hoofs it up the hill…

…to see this view!

And this.

Sian is taking in the view from the cliff on the top right.
This photo gives a great perception of the grand scale of things at the top of the world.

Wearing my MacKenzie Scarf on top of the world.

Ben and Amber, that’s a pretty special spot you have got there.

My trusty boots enjoying the views, the big sky, the sunshine and the amazing fresh air on top of the world.

Being of top of the world in the Isle of Skye was one of my favourite places of my whole trip. The air was so fresh, the sky seemed so big and the the countryside looked so good. It was a really good place to sit and contemplate everywhere amazing places around Britain and Europe I have been since July last year and all of the wonderful adventures I’ve had. I am really lucky to be able to have such an amazing adventure around Britain and Europe. I’m appreciating and enjoying every minute of it.

Heading down from the top of the world to the west coast of the Isle of Skye also marked the halfway point of our Highland Tour. We continued to take in the scenery of Skye, rocking out to the Peat Bog Fairies as Don skilfully drove the yellow bus around some tight little country roads. I’d definitely like to come back to Skye sometime for number of reasons, including to drive or cycle the cool little country roads myself.

After picking up some supplies at the Isle of Skye Brewing Co. in Orasay, we had one final stroll. Don pulled the bus over on the side of the road and sent us up to the ruins of an old fort.

The team walking up to the ruined fort.

Hi Ben!

Sian could easily be walking around Westeros or Middle Earth.

Look out Sian! It’s another plane you might hit your head on.

Ben and Chloe keeping lookout from the fort.

Fun times at the ruined fort.

I wonder how many people have played frisbe in the fort over the years.

Hey Don, that’s a pretty old school looking camera you have there.

The Isle of Skye through my eye.

And through Amber’s eye.

At the end of a long day, Sian was exhausted. She found a pretty good place to have a sleep.

So the ruined fort was the last stop on an amazing trip around the Isle of Skye. From here  we headed back over the bridge back to the Scottish mainland and onto Loch Ness and Fort Augustus. Out trip was a little more than half over, but we still had plenty of good time in front of us.

My EVERWUD, is a children’s book about a 10-year-old boy who discovers all the possibilities life has to offer…  in one week.

Let me set the scene.

It’s 1951, you’re an orphan with bright red hair and neon green eyes. Not only that, but you’re unusually small, picked on by just about everyone, and better off alone. You wear clothes that don’t fit right, and other than the junk you find at the dump, you don’t have much.

Imagine waking up one day to discover you’re half wood-elf, you have a whole lot of magic, and you’re going to inherit even more! WOW! That’s a heavy trip to lay on an orphan… or on any child for that matter. Then you find out your mom and dad didn’t desert you, and had darn good reasons for leaving you behind.

Well, Joey is quite a kid. He’s got a boatload of spunk, and rather than feel sorry for himself, he makes the most of what he has. He roams the streets of Sycamore (his hometown), not lost and dejected, but with dreams. Colossal dreams of all the good stuff he can have… because he believes.

EVERWUD is told from two points of view. Joey’s, which is first person and in kid-speak; and the ethereal world of EVERWUD is written in third person to encompass the vast realm beyond the forest portal. I thought about third person for the entire story… but Joey wouldn’t let me. He had to have his say! Like this…

     Wait a minute. If what Sherlock says is true and it’s the charms; that means the charms have magic, and if the charms have magic, that means…
“Holy mackerel! It can’t be true.” I gag, burp puke, roll over and yank the pillow up over my head.
“My mom is a witch?” The pillow muffles the dreaded words. “Jeepers. What does that make me?”

Life through the eyes of a 10-year-old orphan. He may not be eloquent, but he is real! And with the help of new friends… Joey’s dreams come true.

The adventure begins in book one… EVERWUD ~ THE TREE, THE BOY & THE DOG, and continues in EVERWUD 2 ~ CASTLES, CLOWNS & POTIONS!

In book two, Joey and his buddies unleash some kick-ass magic on bullies, and set the stage for a day of reckoning in EVERWUD. But, wait a minute… I’m not going to give it all away.

Take a chance… EVERWUD is a kids book, but grownups are allowed to read it too! Daydreams are not just for kids!

http://www.amazon.com/EVERWUD-The-TREE-BOY-ebook/dp/B00B7NBOE0/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpt_1

5 ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ reviews!

“I wish this book had been written long ago, because it’s EXACTLY the story I would have loved reading as a child.”

“This book not only has a good, wholesome story, it was made more interesting by alternating the points of view between the young Joseph and his relatives in Everwud. I look forward to the next book in the series!”

“I wish this book had been written long ago, because it’s EXACTLY the story I would have loved reading as a child. Even as a “grown up” I was enchanted from the very first page…”

“I love it when a book captures me on the first page and that’s exactly what Everwud did. I know…I’m not a youngster…but Ms. Dieckmann’s magical words and story line got me just the same.”

“Marilyn Dieckmann’s magical world is full of wonder, her characters are adorable, her dialogues are funny.”

“This contemporary fairy tale is exquisitely told through the eyes of a ten-year-old orphan boy who has no idea he is part fae until events suddenly start to unfold in his life that lead him on a fascinating journey of discovery. The author alternates chapters between the boy’s point of view and that of his mother in the ethereal fairy world, and her command of each setting and the differences in dialogue & worldview are masterfully handled.”

“I was mesmerized by EVERWUD – The Tree, The Boy and The Dog by Marilyn Dieckmann!”

“I purchased this book to read to my grandson during his visits. I was delighted to find that not only did it keep him entranced but I also fell under its spell… On his next visit I asked him what he wanted to play, his answer: E V E R W U D !!”

Have a wonderful day!

From Marilyn with love…

Here’s the itinerary :

“Starting alongside the impressive 17th century castle of Bolsover, this walks heads south along the Doe Lea, passing the Saxon church at Ault Hucknall en route to the impressive Elizabethan home of Bess of Hardwick – Hardwick Hall. After strolling through the extensive grounds, we head north back to Glapwell for lunch. After lunch, quiet farmland tracks take us back to Bolsover for tea. 12.75 miles.” [ATG brochure]

I was so attracted by the idea of the walk and its route and the fact that today I would be travelling down the M1 from Leeds to Leicester with a whole day to spare that I failed to register quite the distance involved! There are opportunities to be picked up and returned comfortably to the start/end from both at Hardwick and at Glapwell but most of us soldiered on to the end. Luckily the route is not too demanding as regards climbs but it’s quite a long tramp and I’m now happily down in Leicetershire.

I’ve written about Bolsover Castle before – a misty, foggy visit in November 2011. Today we passed through several weathers but only one brief shower otherwise sunshine, cloud, heavy black threatening cloud and cold winds all took it in turns.

New Bolsover

From Bolsover town we headed down below the Castle to New Bolsover which is actually not so new just newer than the old settlement around the Castle. It was a purpose-built miners’ village of neat red-brick terrace houses enclosing a large grassy area and is still occupied today even though the pits around this coalfield closed in the 1990s.

In New Bolsover

The theme of much of the walk was past or along the remains of the coal industry: along a disused railway track and past grassed over open cast mines on the Stockley Ponds and Trail maintained by Bolsover Countryside Partnership.

We could still see Bolsover Castle

The Stockley Trail

The Stockley Ponds (Beware! Contaminated water) no fishing today

Apart from the two very significant buildings – Hardwick Hall (NT) and Bolsover Castle – we stopped by a small Saxon Church. The Church of St John the Baptist at Ault Hucknall was closed unfortunately but it would have been good to get inside. Read more about its chapel, windows and the grave of Thomas Hobbes, the author of The Leviathan, here.

St John the Baptist Church, Ault Hucknall

Saxon Arch with figures

Saxon Arch details

Saxon Window

By lunchtime we’d arrived at Hardwick Hall, “more glass than wall”.

Approaching Hardwick Hall

Hardwick Hall

But it wasn’t our lunchtime so we just walked through the grounds, admiring the house as we went and continued along Lady Spencer’s Walk and other tracks on the estate finally arriving at Glapwell where lunch was waiting for us in the Community Centre.

Our Leader, Rob

Hardwick Hall from the Avenue of Trees

Comfortably refreshed, the best part of the walk, although fairly short now, lay ahead. After crossing several fields we followed a ridge directly back up to Bolsover with magnificent views west right across to the Derbyshire Dales.

Return to Bolsover

Arriving in Bolsover more sustenance awaited us at The Bluebell pub – a generous spread of home baked scones, butter, cream and jam and pots of tea, to boot.

Less than an hour’s drive I am comfortably ensconced in my homely B&B for the night!

1. Bled Island, Slovenia

Lake Bled is a lake in the Julian Alps in northwestern Slovenia, where it adjoins the town of Bled. The area is a popular tourist destination.

The lake surrounds Bled Island, the only natural island in Slovenia. The island has several buildings, the main one being the pilgrimage church, built in its current form near the end of the 17th century, and decorated with remains of Mediaeval frescos and a rich Baroque equipment.

The church has a 52 m (171ft) tower and there is a stairway with 99 steps leading up to the building. This church is frequently visited and weddings are held there regularly.

Traditional wooden row barges call pletna ferry people to and from the island.  More adventurous visitors can rent a boat and row themselves over.

2. Pfalz Island, Germany

Pfalz, the island in the Rhine River, is located in the Rhine Gorge roughly halfway between Mainz and Koblenz. It’s about 120 yards (110m) to the left bank, and 80 yards (73m) to the right bank. The valley sides are quite steep-sided, making the river by far the most practical means of transport through this area.

The island is a little less than 100 yards (90m) long, and the amount which is above water depends on the river level. The upstream half of the island shoulders the fortress, which is currently at least 50% ruined. It has an elongated hexagonal footprint. The side facing the left bank, and the upstream end, is currently in a better state of repair than the rest.

The side facing the left bank has some (partially) underwater rocks on which a small pier is built. The downstream half of the island has a tiny copse of trees. A vine grows on the central part.

3. Visovac Island, Croatia

One of the best reasons to visit the gorgeous Krka National Park lies on Visovac island in the middle of Visovac lake.

About 6 km (3.7mi) upstream from Skradin (a small town in the Šibenik-Knin county), Visovac island is the site of a Franciscan monastery that dates from 1576.

The austere walls and towering bell tower are protected by a circle of cypresses that point to the sky like swords. Beyond the tiny island lies the trout-filled waters of the lake which, in turn, is protected by high karstic cliffs.

The monastery treasures are exhibited in a small museum and outside is a lovely, flowering garden attended by the 10 monks in residence. Visovac island is reachable by boat from Bristane village on the mainland.

4. Heart Island, USA

Heart Island is part of the Town of Alexandria, in Jefferson County, New York State. Boldt Castle, located on Heart Island in the Thousand Islands of the Saint Lawrence River, along the northern border of New York State, is a major landmark and tourist attraction in its region.

Heart Island is accessible by ferry and most of the grounds and buildings can be explored by the public for a fee. Also, there is a U.S. Customs and Border Protection office on Heart Island and visitors coming from Canada require appropriate identification, as visiting the island is considered entering the United States.

Two other buildings on the island are the Power House and the Alster Tower; both are open to the public. The Power House was built to hold a generator to supply the island with power, and now is more of a museum of how electric power was obtained in the early 1900s. The Alster Tower was purposely constructed with slanting and uneven walls, ceilings, and roofs.

5. Wilhelmstein Island, Germany

Wilhelmstein Island is located in Steinhuder Meer (lake), northwestern Germany. Duke Wilhelm of Schaumburg-Lippe (1724-1777) built fortress on this island, for the protection of his rather small county. Wilhelmstein Island is actually an artifical island, based on piles of stones, that had to be carried there by the local fishermen in their boats.

The fortress originally consisted of 16 islands that were later connected. In the fortress Wilhelm established a millitary college.  Only once the Wilhelmstein proved useful when in 1787 it was besieged by the Duke of Hessen-Kassel who planned to annex Schaumburg-Lippe and did not succeed.

Plane flying over the fortress Wilhelmstein

Wilhelmstein today is a museum and a popular destination for tourists who visit the Steinhuder Meer.

6. Mont Saint-Michel, France

Mont Saint-Michel is a rocky tidal island and a commune in Normandy, France. It is located approximately one kilometre (just over half a mile) off the country’s north-western coast, at the mouth of the Couesnon River near Avranches.

The population of the island is 44, as of 2009. The island has held strategic fortifications since ancient times, and since the 8th century AD been the seat of the monastery from which it draws its name. The Mont-Saint-Michel and its bay are part of the UNESCO list of World Heritage Sites. More than 3,000,000 people visit it each year.

Mont Saint-Michel was previously connected to the mainland via a tidal causeway, i.e. a trackway covered at high tide and revealed at low tide. But today, this island is connected to the mainland by an elevated light bridge that was built in the past few years.

7. Trakai Island Castle, Lithuania

Trakai Island Castle is located on an island in Lake Galvė, Lithuania. The castle is sometimes referred to as “Little Marienburg”.

The construction of the stone castle was begun in the 14th century, and around 1409 major works were completed. Trakai was one of the main centres of the Grand Duchy of Lithuania and the castle held great strategic importance.

The Trakai Island Castle today is the hub where plenty of concerts, events and festivals are held. In Lithuania, the castle is also considered to be one of the most beautiful historical monuments ever. In 1962, a museum was opened here. During the year Trakai Island Castle attracts up to 300 000 visitors.

In Trakai, tourists are enjoying resting by the waterside, a yacht or motorbike ride, swimming, fishing, camping or simply a quiet time in a cafe on the bank of Lake Galve. In June, Lake Galve holds International Rowing Regatta “Amber oars”.

8. Loreto Island, Italy

Loreto Island, is located on Lake Iseo, Italy. Otherwise, Lake Iseo or Sebino is the fourth largest lake in Lombardy, Italy, fed by the Oglio river.

The island L’isola di Loreto (in Italian) is the smallest island of the lake. Situated on the north side of Montisola (larger island).

It is of private property. In 1400 a cloister was built here for the Sisters of S.Chiara. Today there is a castle in New Gothic stile, a park and a small port.

9. Dark Island, USA

Dark Island, a prominent feature of the St. Lawrence Seaway, is located in the lower (eastern) Thousand Islands region, near Chippewa Bay. It is a part of the Town of Hammond, in St. Lawrence County, New York.

A historic landmark here, “The Towers” was long known as Dark Island Castle until recently renamed “Singer Castle“. The island itself sits only a few yards south of the Canadian-United States border that runs along the river. Because of its proximity to Canada, it was used for rum-running during prohibition in the United States.

The south side of the island is only about one-hundred feet (30m) from the shipping channel, and cargo ships frequently pass the island. Because of the depth of the channel on one side, and the relative shallowness on the other, it is very good for sport fishing of Largemouth Bass and Northern Pike (fish species).

10. Pontikonisi, Greece

Mouse Island (Pontikonisi) in background

This small beautiful island covered with pine trees which is situated between Agriovotanos and Ellinika is called Pontikonisi. Only a few places in Greece have been photographed as much as this small piece of land which is the trademark of Corfu Island.

This virgin biotope houses seals, dozens of birds and it is also a location rich in fish. Its existence is recorded in all the old maps and it is said that in the area around it the famous naval battle of Artemision took place.

Pontikonisi is the home of the Pantokrator monastery. It is the white stone staircase of the Monastery that when viewed from afar gives the impression of a mouse tail that gave the island its name, Mouse Island, that’s what Pontikonisi means in Greek.

via: theworldgeography

Onwards with writing about stuff I never promised to write about!

Right, now, Kyoto-U does not leave their foreign students hanging in the wind. Besides a literal fuckton of brochures, leaflets and guides, you are grouped together with some other baka gaijin and given a tutor, probably someone slowly grinding his/her way towards a PhD. We meet once a week, talk about our problems, share awkwardness, the usual stuff. And since we’re such a bunch of happy campers, we naturally wanted to go sightseeing with the whole gang. Super International Tourist Friend Action!!!

Also, this week was Golden Week, which means a boatload of holidays (which translates to roughly a week and a third or so without lectures), which in turn means that very little people had any plans. Our tutor Yumi (gunning for PhD at the ripe old age of 24) made us a list and we went off.

But before we went anywhere, I learned that the national animal of Mexico was some sort of ugly, bald dog.

And here I thought it was immigrantus jobsnatchus!

Casual racism/poignant political commentary/sad attempts at humor aside… it’s a very good place to talk about the Japanese city bus system. You see, here you pay only when you exit the bus and it sometimes depends on how many stops you rode (this is to be determined by pokemon magic). Or you can buy daily tickets and something other like that. It doesn’t matter, because riding a bus in Kyoto is just a waste of money (most bus fares are about 220 yen, which is like 2.3$). You probably have legs, which means you can ride a bicycle, which you should do.

I promise that what follows will be mostly pictures and very little text.

The first place we visited was the Nijo castle, smack dab right in the middle of the city

These wall looked so climbable in Total War: Shogun 2. And didn’t have moats. I’m starting to suspect designer

laziness

Welcome to the most boring castle ever!

Inside this building: no shoes, no photos and definitely no interesting historical exhibitions are allowed

This castle doesn’t feature a real, grand citadel – or so I’ve been told my one of Mexicans in our group. This building, however, houses the living quarters and such. As a must, you must leave your shoes and walk with your socks to look inside. What’s to see here? Nothing. The rooms are left empty, probably to show the 1337 wall painting skillz. This, however, makes for a very boring exposition and you’re left with a feeling that Japanese people only learned about “furniture” and “material belongings” from nanban traders. Anyways, there are two interesting things of note: the officers’/investigators’ room is decorated with tigers, while the ministers’ – with duck, goose and cranes, probably to show the nerds their place. The other thing is that the floor are creaking on purpose, to foil assassination attempts. Yes, ninjas was THAT much of a problem back then.

Victor said these bushes look like someone should lay down on them. Meanwhile enjoy pictures of nature ‘n’ stuff

Just me being sexy on a bridge. What’s behind me?

Mudafuckin’ murder carps, that’s what!

Seriously, those things are huge! I bet they fed them ninja meat so that they’d get a taste for human blood and eat any would be assassin that tried to go swimming.

There were only a few lookouts at first, but they quickly alerted the other of the possibility of a human falling in.

Since carps are very inclusive as a society, they even invited the ginger carps to enjoy the feast!

The gold carp has privileges – he eats the eyes!

Seriously, though, those fish could, in a pinch, be used a blunt weapon to bludgeon someone to death.

More nature and architecture.

Does the Shogun shit in the woods? I think this path answers that question

It was a sunny and thus very unfitting to visit this particular castle since the courtyard looks like a wasteland. Lord Humungus is just outside the picture, demanding that you give him your Hello Kitty lunch box

We climbed some tower. Must’ve been useful for lording over one’s subject. An interesting thing are the high stairs – since the Japanese are a tad shorter than us and the historical Japanese should have been way shorter… wonder how they climbed it?

Some more random pictures.

An unfortunately named taxi – now more than ever since Fifty Shades stole away any dignity that the word “kinky” ever had.

After the castle, we wanted to eat, so we went to a Chinese restaurant.

Meatwise, the menu wasn’t geared towards practicing or observant Muslims (out Japanese course has no less than 4 of them, our little sigh seeing tour had one), since beef was nowhere to be seen. I’ll go more into detail (read: “baseless speculation”) about it once I post about eating in Japan. Beer is expensive, yo, costing a much as my plate of pork and unions (pork was losing that battle, too).

After that, it was time for Seimei Shrine! Get ready for cultural ignorance.

This is the Simei Temple, “famous from Amo no Sibei”, as Yumi tells us in our email. I find it funny because of all the pentagrams.

A streets runs through the middle of the temple. Because of course it does.

Bushshitter the Gnome is an important figure in Shinto (I know next to nothing about Shinto-Buddhism).

You wash your filthy hands (who know what manga you were reading before coming here) as not to sully the temple.

You can buy all sorts of religious wares here. Also, you can shake a brass tube that makes a rattling sound. Because Japan.

Enough pentagrams to summon a small squard of demons.

Conehat The Awesome first became famous for his skill to kills frogs by throwing leaves at them.

He was a great patron of rat races. That’s how he won his wife from a demon (or a Portuguese man, the translators disagree on this).

He has more food than an average Lithuanian student.

You throw something in the shrine and then ring the bell to let the deities know that they should move their celestial arses and do something about your life.

You rub these… uh… god testes? For good luck? I don’t know, nobody explained anything.

The surroundings.

Onwards to the next temple! Also, people in Japanese buses let seniors take their seat pretty damn fast.

This is probably the Kitano-Tenmagu temple!

This is a taxi. they mass outside the entrance

Again, the temple is surrounded by less than scenic buildings.

Before you reach the temple proper, there’s quite a bit of walk surrounded by statues of various religious importance/heathen-ess. Also, your tutor and her friend are constantly entering the picture.

They have a thing for caped statues. Also, someone should collect that little child.

The temple entrance proper. With uniformed schoolgirls no less (sexy uniformed schoolgirl still remains a fable since I’ve yet to see any).

View from the temple stairs. Victor and Fabian, the photo-bombing Mexican duo!

Here, you must wash your filthy hand and mouth. Fabian does it for the color, Merdan refuses because that would be blasphemy, I only wash my hands because I really wanted to wash my hands.

inside the temple are these bell shrines. You ask for various things, like luck. Seeing how the Japanese pronounce “L”, some girls might be asking for a big rack – which is a reasonable demand, all things considered.

Temple is being worked upon.

This is used to scare away sparrows.

Schoolgirls rubbing a bull. That bull gets a lot of action, I tell you.

Thus ended our trip for the day. Well, there was some geeking out with Fabian, but that pretty much sums it up. Next time I hope to visit a castle that has swords and stuff.

On the other hand and on Thursday, I took a visit to the Kyoto Manga museum (even my professor urged me to do it). At first, I had the urge to curl on the floor and shit myself, this place felt so creepy (because of the manga, you see). But anyways, it was quite full of people of all ages and sexes, and they were reading manga. Some did it standing up, some in the “no shoes” sitting areas, other did it in the hallway or on the grass outside. I only looked into the English translations. There were also samples of Western comics, some in Japanese, some in native tongues. I used the opportunity to read the real ending of Watchmen. I also renewed my hatred of whoever drew The Dark Knight Strikes Again.

I also gained some interest in works of Katsuya Terada, mainly because there was a display of his art. And this is the man who draws very close to western sensibilities. And has never drawn a woman with her chest covered (but hey, at least they’re not Escher Girls and their breasts are of the feminist pleasing A or B size).

Manga museum: all the manga you’ll never want to read, mostly drawn in classic shoujo style.

That’s all, folks!

Next time, I’ll probably write about eating in Japan and my failures in that area.