The last day we all agreed would be a ‘free’ day and we were woken early again by the solar alarm clock and were delighted to find another gloriously sunny morning.  After the hotels rather below average breakfast we took to the streets to have a leisurely day in the city.  Some of the others returned to Jurmala and others went shopping, neither of those options appealed to us, we just wanted to go sight seeing again.

First of all today we walked around the Art Nouveau district where previously grand buildings that had fallen into disrepair during the communist era were once more being restored to former glory.  Art Nouveau was an international architectural style that flourished in Europe between 1880 and 1914 and was an elaborate statement of bourgeois wealth and influence and a rejection of aristocratic stoic classicism that had previously dominated.  This period happily coincided with a time of growth and prosperity in Riga and it has over eight hundred fine examples of Art Nouveau buildings across the city.  They are the legacy of Latvian Romanticism, which was the classical era of Latvian culture that made Riga one of the European centres of Art Nouveau along with Vienna and St Petersburg.

When I first saw them I was completely astounded by the beauty of these very fine buildings.  Their ornate facades and intricate decoration were perfectly framed against the blue sky and they looked spectacular.  Between the two world wars Riga was a vibrant and grand city, before first the Germans and then the Russians did their worst, it was known as the ‘Pearl of the Baltic’ and visitors referred to it as ‘the Paris of the North’; walking around this area now it is very easy to see why and everywhere there is evidence of a prosperous past that is now beginning to re-emerge.

You can always tell where the finest and most prestigious buildings are in a capital city because the foreign embassies and the financial institutions move in and this is where they all are standing side by side in rows of tall pastel coloured buildings with impressive statues and friezes all competing with each other for superior grandeur.  This is only my opinion of course but if you ignore the Gaudi factor I think these buildings are even better than those in Barcelona. 

Another pleasing feature about Riga is the abundance of public green space, which is probably the only positive legacy of the communist era.  Communism is an ideology that seeks to establish a classless, stateless social organisation based on common ownership and that principal had helped to give the cities to the citizens and wide open spaces in which to enjoy them.  Riga is a great example of this.  The parks are laid out with beautiful flower beds and pieces of public urban art and we stayed in one for a while and admired them.  What impressed me most was the obvious civic respect that existed here and none of these fragile and potentially vulnerable exhibits had been vandalised or damaged in any way.   One thing I am absolutely sure of is that they wouldn’t survive a rowdy weekend in most English towns.

We were sitting in an open-air café that was close to the Russian Orthodox Cathedral that we had visited before but agreed that we had to again on account of it being so spectacular.  On top of the black domes the crosses caught the sunlight and shone a bright gold that reflected the rays back in a curious and divine way.  It was quite hot now and in contrast the interior of the Cathedral was cool and refreshing and we enjoyed looking around again as much as we did the first time.

At midday we had agreed to meet the shopping party in the market square for lunch and we located them sitting in the sunshine and enjoying loud and colourful open air entertainment on a temporary stage that had been erected as part of a festival of the celebration of the family that was taking place today.  Actually it was a bit too noisy but it didn’t put us off our lunchtime beer and a little light lunch.

L’UNESCO (United Nations Educational Scientific and Cultural Organization) ha, fra le varie sue mansioni, quella di “proteggere” (con un po’ di quattrini) edifici e luoghi di valore culturalmente rilevante per l’intero pianeta; Villa Adriana e la cattedrale di Rouen, la valle del Katmandu e Machu Pichu.
Qui trovate la lista completa del World Heritage Centre.

Ma poi c’è anche un’interessantissima lista di Patrimoni Culturali Intangibili.
Di questa fanno parte il Flamenco, la calligrafia Cinese, i racconta-storie della piazza di Djemma el Fna (Marocco)….e così via.
L’Italia è rappresentata  dall‘Opera dei Pupi Siciliani e dal Canto a Tenore sardo.

Ecco – a me ’sta lista mi leva un paio di chili di misantropia ogni volta che la rileggo.

The next morning we were delighted to be woken early by shafts of razor sharp sunlight piercing the paper-thin bedroom curtains and blazing radiantly into the room.  I really don’t object to being woken like this.

We had another full day planned but for some the pace was beginning to tell.  Mark had decided in advance to skip the morning session to recover from his late night out and May choose to stay in the city for some solo retail therapy.  This was absence through choice; Nick on the other hand had planned to be there but he had rejected my sensible advice and had given himself a monster hangover and was quite unable to leave his hotel room because of his ferocious headache and constant vomiting. 

With depleted numbers our first destination was Ethografiskais Brivdabas Muzejs, the Latvian Ethnic Open Air Museum located in a forest next to Lake Jugla just to the east of the city.  We arrived and were introduced to our guide who was an elderly lady dressed in traditional costume who accompanied us into the museum and provided us with a continuous and informative narrative. We strolled leisurely in the sunshine amongst the trees where there are about one hundred and twenty wooden buildings that have been dismantled and then rebuilt here as examples of the heritage of Latvia. 

There are five regions to Latvia (Latgale, Zemgale, Kurzeme, the Liv land and Selija) and each had its own traditions and buildings styles, examples of which are all represented here. There were houses, farm buildings, windmills, barns, and churches and over the last fifty years or so genuine structures have been discovered all across Latvia and removed to Brivdabas for display.  Some of these buildings are as much as two hundred years old and were still in use until about fifty years ago before being taken apart and moved to this Museum.  We liked the guide’s story about the wedding tradition of the bride knitting a pair of highly coloured gloves as a gift for all the guests and in case we didn’t believe her she opened a chest full of them to show us just to prove it.  If I had to knit a chest full of gloves that would certainly keep the guest list numbers down.

At the end of the tour we looked for somewhere to eat and found a likely looking place amongst the pine trees with a delicious aroma of cooking food.  We went in to order but were told that this was being prepared for tomorrow, that didn’t seem to make a lot of sense and I wondered why, if that was the case, they hadn’t prepared some yesterday for today but concluded that it wasn’t worth asking the question; they had some drinks but seemed equally reluctant to sell those as well so we wandered back to the entrance and found an alternative little restaurant serving a limited choice of traditional Latvian food.  Mickey and David had black peas and bacon; there were an awful lot of black peas and not a lot of bacon and they both confessed later that it was not terribly appetising.

Now everyone should have known what to do next because we all had our personal itineraries but sadly they didn’t seem to help a great deal when we arrived back in Riga at the appointed pick-up point.  We quickly found Mark who boarded the bus but we failed to locate May and the driver was anxious about being parked illegally.  I don’t know what the penalty was but he was very nervous about it.   May appeared but disappeared into McDonalds so Alona went in after her and May came out of a different door.  Between us we managed to turn this into a key-stone cops routine as I went to McDonalds to find Alona and she came out of the other door and vanished down the street, as I couldn’t find her I went back to the bus to be told she was heading away from us which required a hundred metre sprint to advise her that we had finally assembled everyone and to bring her back.  There was still no sign of Nick and he wasn’t answering his mobile phone so we assumed that he was still recovering and we left without him. 

Our next destination was the Turaida Castle and Museum, which we went directly to after we had been reunited with the mini-bus that had temporarily misplaced us and had been waiting at the wrong place to meet us after our cable car ride.  We were collectively worried about this in case his patience had been put to the test again and would trigger another angry driver explosion but he was calm now and the short journey was uneventful.  The castle and museum were well worth the visit and as the weather continued to improve our charming guide entertained us with tales from Latvian folklore, which she delivered in good English that was sometimes punctuated with amusing mispronunciations and some inappropriate vocabulary.  We enjoyed the stories all the more for that.

At the end of this stage of the visit we enjoyed Latvian canapés at a delightful restaurant just out of town and we accompanied this with a chaotic debate about what to do tomorrow.  Alona was desperate to please everyone so worked hard to achieve a consensus that proved hopelessly optimistic.  This took some considerable time and once completed required the tour guide to handwrite for everyone an individual and personal itinerary for the next day.  This was a nice touch but was probably going to be a complete wasted effort knowing how chronically afflicted we all were with changeable minds. 

I’m afraid that Alona wasn’t a very quick learner and no sooner had we ended the tortuous deliberation about tomorrow than she prompted another about where to eat tonight, and that proved equally as painful.  I’m a great believer in the democratic process but sometimes someone just has to make a decision.  I could sense that some of us were getting irritable so I was grateful that on the fourth recount following a confusing voting procedure that we finally agreed to stay at this location and order dinner.  I was only too pleased that the restaurant staff that witnessed the pantomime were bestowed with unnatural amounts of patience and didn’t close the place in despair because this was a very good decision indeed and we enjoyed an exceptional meal and washed it down with an appropriate amount of alcohol.

It had been a long day so that evening the Maritim group stayed at their hotel and had an early night, except for Nick who was planning to go clubbing with David, Mark and Alona, and Alona’s cousin Christina.  We met them in the cocktail bar at the Hotel Latvia for pre-clubbing drinks.  David and Mark got in the mood with some B52s and some tequila shots and because I knew that they could handle their alcohol I gave Nick some advice on sensible drinking which I was to discover later that he completely disregarded.  Alona and her cousin were dressed to thrill and David and Mark had already fallen in love with Christina who tonight clad in her best party attire looked quite stunning and they were both completely bowled over by her.  With hormones in overdrive they competed with each other for her attention and it was amusing to watch them using their charm, and sometimes their elbows as they competed for advantage over each other. 

They invited us to join them at the nightclub and I confess that I was tempted but in the end wisely declined because I imagine that most of the girls at the night-club were there in part to get away from their fathers and probably wouldn’t be particularly delighted to find themselves on the dance floor with someone else’s, especially one with an embarrassing dancing style based on a curious uncoordinated medley of shadow boxing and goose stepping moves that was perfected in nightclubs in the 1970’s and remains marooned there for eternity.

“Levadas” are aqueducts in Madeira Island built in order to bring water from the North of the Island where it is abundant to the South where the main colonization of the Island has always taken place. Besides carrying water the Levadas also create walk trails in the landmass of Madeira that are the best ways to explore the natural wealth of this island. You’ll be able to see the laurisilva endemic forest (UNESCO World Heritage, 1999) with trees like Ocotea foetens, Laurus azorica or Persea indica and also birds like the Trocaz Pigeon or the Pterodroma madeira and others.

There are many trails with different difficulty ratings, I don’t know yet if I’m going to post specifically about different levadas later but it is easy to find the information on any of the hotels or tourism centers in the island.

Most of these trails will take several hours to complete and go across remote parts of the island so you shouldn’t go alone in case you get hurt or need medical assistance for some reason.

Special thanks to Carolina for the photos.

“Caldeirão Verde” means Green Cauldron; “Lagoa do Vento” means Wind Lagoon

There aren’t snakes or any other dangerous animals in the Island.

Helpful Links: MadeiraNature.com

Other interesting links: MadeiraIsland.travel; Youtube (levada video); Madeira 1st post

World Heritage Sites are places of “outstanding universal value”‘ chosen by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organisation. The Dorset and East Devon Coast is one of the most speactacular of England’s World Heritage Sites. Known as The Jurassic Coast, this area comprises more than 90 spectacular miles of truly beautiful coast which stretches from East Devon to Dorset. The rocks along this coast encompass a period of more than 185 million years of the Earth’s history.

World Heritage status was granted because the coast offers a unique insight into a geological “time line” spanning the Triassic, Jurassic and Cretaceous periods of the Earth’s history. Very different sections of this coast formed over millions of years through massive geological events, later assisted by coastal processes which you see as you walk through this truly beautiful area.

Orcombe Point marks the west edge of the World Heritage Site, and you can start your journey by seeing the Geoneedle, unveiled by the Prince of Wales in 2002 to commemorate granting of World Heritage Status to the Devon and East Dorset coast. The Geoneedle is built from stones taken from the coast in the sequence in which the rocks were deposited along the coast during its development.

The rocks of the Dorset and East Devon Coast record the period known as the Mesozoic era – the Middle Ages of Earth’s history – which is broken down into the Triassic, Jurassic and Cretaceous Periods of geological time. These represent the period from 250 million years ago to 65 million years ago. All along the coast, this amazing geology is clearly exposed and easily accessible.

In Triassic times, which were between 250 and 200 million years ago, the World Heritage Site was an element of the super-continent called Pangaea, a landmass which later divided into the continents of our current world. Dorset and East Devon was somewhere in the desert-like, dry centre of this unimaginable super-continent. The Triassic was a crucial period of the evolution of life on Earth. Those sea-going animals which were able to survive a mass extinction at the end of the previous geological period evolved and developed; for example, the dinosaurs evolved around this time and later became dominant during the Mesozoic Era. By the end of the Triassic, most of the groups of four legged animals which we know today had evolved, including the first true mammals.

Pangaea started to split up during the Jurassic Period between 200 and 140 million years ago. The Atlantic Ocean formed to the west of Britain and the Americas moved away from Europe. The Earth was warm and sea levels were high, with almost no polar ice caps. The Jurassic rocks of East Devon and Dorset record these marine conditions – although the depth of the oceans varied from relatively deep seas to coastal swamps. The geology of this area indicates that sea levels rose and fell in cycles, with the deposition of deep water clays, then sandstones and last of all shallow water limestones. The oceans were relatively shallow in the middle of the Jurassic, which created a series of islands raised slightly above the shallow shoals, rather like the Caribbean of today. The oceans deepened as the Jurassic time period progressed, though they again became shallower at the end of the Jurassic. This change created a tropical-type swamp environment. Though you may find that hard to believe right now!

Jurassic animals included Ammonites, a type of mollusc related to the squid, but with hard spiral shells. These are one of the most common fossils you can find on the Dorset and East Devon Coast; and in fact, Portland and its limestone and chalk is where the giant ammonite is found. As the shallow seas expanded, there was an explosion of life during which many animals evolved rapidly. Dinosaurs were abundant on Earth and the dominant animals in the oceans included ichthyosaurs, plesiosaurs and crocodiles.

During the Cretaceous Period, which extended from 140 to 65 million years ago, America continued to drift away from Europe, and the Atlantic became more like it is today in form. The landscape on the World Heritage Site was somewhat like the Gulf of Arabia today, with lagoons. As the rocks under what is now south-west England tilted to the East, the warm waters of the Atlantic expanded, and sea conditions became more hospitable, allowing billions of microscopic algae to bloom in the clear waters. As their exo-skeletons sank to the sea floor, they gradually formed the pure, white chalk we see in the area today.

Right across the World Heritage Site you can see the “Great Unconformity”, a time gap between rocks of different ages. In the mid-Cretaceous the rocks tilted eastwards, and were then gradually eroded by seas and rivers, especially in the west of the area. And so, all the Jurassic and Lower Cretaceous rock history is absent from the geological timeline in this “fault”, and the Cretaceous rocks are deposited on the eroded rock surfaces of the Triassic period. As you walk along the coast, this makes interpretation of the time line more difficult, because the oldest and the youngest rocks on the coast are found near each other in East Devon.

The Cretaceous saw the largest and most fearsome dinosaurs on the Earth, but it was also the period when the first flowering plants evolved. A mass extinction took place at the end of the Cretaceous period which was critical to the form and animal population of the modern world (although this is not explicitly recorded in the World Heritage Site). Certainly it was around this time that the reign of the reptiles – including dinosaurs – as the predominant life on Earth came to an end; dinosaurs, marine reptiles and ammonites were some of the species which became extinct. After their time, the present style of life on Earth evolved, dominated by mammals, flowering plants and grasses. The earliest rocks from the Cretaceous period of the World Heritage coast are the Purbeck Beds, which coincidentally represent one of the most challenging rock sequences along this part of the Devon coast. They have given us many fossils including dinosaur footprints and the microscopic animal teeth. Chalk – calcium carbonate – is the youngest Cretaceous rock in the Heritage area of the Devon and Dorset coast – it is located all through the area, and usually has millions of fossils of animals such as the sea urchin. All in all, the varied geology of this beautiful coast has formed an amazing laboratory for geomorphology – the study of the land and the geological processes that created it. Coastal land is never stable; it changes as the sea and frost mould it, as rain and human activity subtly alters it. But geomorphology is looking at longer time periods than that which represents the hand of man, even though small changes, repeated often enough over long periods of time, can be powerful agents for change as well. In our time, landslides or storms have not only created the shape of the coast but have revealed the fossils in this natural laboratory of geomorphology!

The Lake District in Cumbria is England’s largest National Park, one of 14 in the United Kingdom. At approximately 34 miles wide and covering some 885 square miles, it is also home to England’s highest mountain – Scafell Pike – England’s deepest lake – Wastwater – and England’s longest Lake – Windemere.

Some well-known towns include Keswick, Ambleside and Bowness-on-Windermere by the lakes, and of course Kendal, which is on the South East boundary of the designated National Park area. Kendal is also the town where the Lake District World Heritage Project, chaired by Cumbria County Council, is based.

If the Lakes does become a World Heritage Site this will be a natural progression from the first travel book, published in 1778 by Celia Fiennes. This was the time when the Lakes began to exert its huge and unique impact on the people of Britain – and, of course, the world.

Later in the 18th century, Thomas West produced his “Guide to the Lakes”, with its listings of ’stations’ (viewpoints). This was the beginning of a form of tourism in the Lakes one can see as almost modern in its ambition.

But it took the efforts of renowned artists, poets, writers, and even thinkers like John Ruskin, who drew inspiration from the area, to really introduce the Lake District to the world. The impact of their work encouraged others to think about the way in which landscape, the environment and even nature itself could be viewed.

Another book which would influence the popularity of the region was written by one of Cumberland’s (as it was then known) very famous sons, William Wordsworth, in 1810: his “Guide to the Lakes”. Wordsworth made no secret of the fact that his favourite place was the Duddon Valley in the south-west of the Lake District.

It is the deep impact of the Lakes on the National Consciousness that might result in the National Park in Cumbria gaining World Heritage Site status. World Heritage Sites are considered to have “outstanding universal value” – that is, almost to be be unique – and there can be no denying that the Lake District is certainly unique!

Aside from being assocaited with fine literature and art, Cumbria and the Lake District are exciting places to live and work. The farming families who have lived there over the generations have shaped and moulded the landscape we all know and love today.

This is an extremely exciting time for Cumbria and its residents. The Government may well submit the application for WHS to UNESCO in 2011.

While World Heritage Site status doesn’t bring the monetary reward of, say, a Nobel Prize, it is nevertheless a major trophy which, in ranking the Lake District alongside the existing list of Heritage Sites of the World, would have a major impact on the region, both social and economic.

MONUMENTS TIED TO THE SKY:
ANCIENT ASTRONOMY AND ITS GLOBAL HERITAGE

On Thursday 10th December 2009 at 6.30pm in The Gallery, 77 Cowcross Street, London, EC1M 6EL

We would like to invite you to this year’s ICOMOS-UK Christmas Lecture and Wine Reception, in association with The Royal Institution of Great Britain:

The lecture will be given by Professor Clive Ruggles, Chair of the International Astronomical Union ’s Working Group on Astronomy and World Heritage.

In today’s brightly lit world it is all too easy to forget just how overwhelming the dark night sky would have been to human societies in the past—a prominent part of the observed world that was impossible to ignore.

The objects and cycles seen there were vital to people striving to make sense of the world within which they dwelt and to keep their actions in harmony with the cosmos as they perceived it.

The Thirteen Towers, Peru

For the archaeoastronomer, certain ancient monuments provide tantalising glimpses of long lost beliefs and practices relating to the sky, although they have to be interpreted with considerable caution.

In this lecture Clive Ruggles, Emeritus Professor of Archaeoastronomy at the University of Leicester, will describe some major new discoveries made in recent years, focusing on his own ongoing work in Peru, Polynesia, and prehistoric Europe.

Clive is Chair of the International Astronomical Union’s Working Group on Astronomy and World Heritage, which is working with UNESCO and ICOMOS to help identify, protect and preserve the most outstanding manifestations of global cultural heritage relating to the sky. Clive is also President of the Prehistoric Society, and President of IAU Commission 41 (History of Astronomy).  His books include Skywatching in the Ancient World: New Perspectives in Cultural Astronomy, edited with Gary Urton (Colorado, 2007), Ancient Astronomy: An Encyclopedia of Cosmologies and Myth (ABC-CLIO, 2005), and Astronomy in Prehistoric Britain and Ireland (Yale UP, 1999).

Admission (including wine and mince pies after the lecture) is £15 for ICOMOS-UK or The Royal institution of Great Britain members.
Admission for non-members is £18 and for students it is £10.

We do hope you will join us on the 10th December, 

For more information and a booking form please contact:

Camilla Massara
Events Co-ordinator
International Council on Monuments & Sites UK

Tel 020 7566 0031
E-mail: camillamassara@icomos-uk.org

Our plan was to spend most of the final day in Chinchón, have a final lunch in the square and watch the excitement build towards the event before leaving for the airport.  What we had reckoned with was that just before midday all of the entrance gates to the Plaza were suddenly closed shut and entry after that was strictly by ticket only.  That was a bit of a disappointment because it wasn’t especially thrilling just hanging around outside so we sat and had a drink and without tickets to an event we couldn’t attend anyway, even if we had, we were forced to assess the options available and then change our plans.

On our way to Toledo a couple of days before the town of Arunjuez looked as though it might be worth a visit and as it was more or less on the way back to Madrid we decided to go there and see the Royal Palace.  We returned to the hotel and picked up the car and our bags and after negotiating our way out of the town made the thirty-minute drive to Arunjuez, which is a town that was declared a World Heritage Site in 2001.

It is hardly surprising that with forty-three listed sites Italy has the most World Heritage Sites but for those who think of Spain as nothing more than a country of over developed costas with concrete condominiums, marinas and golf courses it might be a shock to learn that Spain has forty sites and is second highest in the exclusive list.

On every visit to Spain I seem to be visiting a new World Heritage Site so when I counted them up I was interested to discover that I have now been to fifteen and that is over a third of them.  In 2005 I visited Barcelona in Catalonia and saw the works of Antoni Gaudi and Palau de la Música Catalana and the Hospital de Sant Pau. Then in 2008 I saw the Historic Centre of Córdoba,  the  Caves of Altamira in Cantabria, the Old Town of Santiago de Compostela and the Cathedral, Alcázar and Archivo de Indias in Seville.  In 2009 in the motoring holiday around Castilian cities I visited the Old Town of Segovia and its Aqueduct,  the Historic Walled Town of Cuenca, the Historic City of Toledo and the Old Town of Ávila.  Interestingly though, there are no World Heritage Sites in Madrid.

When we arrived we were surprised at just how busy it was and there was limited parking space available and lots of people out for a walk.  We stopped first at the royal gardens and walked inside to a sort of museum where the receptionist explained that there were no tours today but it didn’t matter because we were short of time and almost certainly wouldn’t have bothered anyway and then we moved the car a few hundred metres closer to the town and walked instead to see the Royal Palace.  King Juan Carlos has eight Royal Palaces to choose from but I suspect he doesn’t stay at this one very often, most are close to Madrid and one is on the island of Mallorca.

As we walked through the gardens with their water features and flower beds and in the company of lots of local people I began to think about all the reasons that I like Spain and one is that for someone like me on the shorter side most of the people are what I regard as normal size.  According to Eurostat the Spanish are the shortest people in Europe and the average height for a man is five foot seven inches and I feel that that is just about the perfect size and it makes me feel quite comfortable.  Officially Dutch men are the tallest at an average of five foot ten inches and although not included in the Eurostat figures the Croatians claim to be an average six foot one inch.  I went there last year and I can confirm that they are indeed big lads.

We walked all the way around the grand white stone palace, some of the gardens and the natural weir on the River Tagus and we would have liked longer in this very pleasant little town because it would have been nice to have lunch here but we were ever mindful of the flight times and the one hour drive back to Madrid airport so reluctantly we left Arunjuez and made our way back.

At first this was quite straight-forward and we joined the motorway for the capital but as we got closer it became more and more confusing and I became convinced that the motorway system had been designed by someone with a perverse sense of humour because as we approached the airport it began to resemble the electrical wiring diagram for the space shuttle.  Luckily there were always directions for the airport because without them we would surely have got hopelessly lost.  We arrived back in plenty of time, returned the car to the man from the car hire company, went directly to the departure lounge and waited patiently for our flight home.

This had been my sixth visit to Spain in eighteen months and now that I have abandoned the costas for the countryside I cannot wait to return again.

I went to Ayutthaya this weekend. Ayutthata (พระนครศรีอยุธยา) is the ancient capital of Thailand when it was known as Siam. Like Bangkok it is on the Chao Phraya River. I took an hour’s river cruise which was good for photography as well as enjoyable in the cooling breeze. The weather is excellent now. When the Thai people start to say it is cold (“now!”) then I know it’s just the right temperature for me.

There’s a bit more information about Ayutthaya on Wikipedia here. Ayutthaya is also the name of a province. There’s a lot of industry in Ayutthaya province so it is quite a diversified place. The city is an easy hour’s drive from Bangkok.

Here’s a link to a big slide show on my Google Site. It has pictures from Picasa Web.

Ayutthaya is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. There’s some information about its status here. The Thai Government has invested in improving the city and its attractions to keep that status. Since I last visited in 2007 they built a large Visitors’ Centre. However it was deserted when I was there.

I saw few foreign tourists but many Thai people. That was good as the prices are reasonable for Thai people and the people are friendly. Immediately a tour bus pulls up the prices go up and the attitude goes down. Such is life.

There are four other UNESCO World Heritage Sites in Thailand:

I confess I have not been to them. I should make the effort.

Sunday was the day of the bullfight and when we went for breakfast the final hectic preparations were in full swing.  Mickey saw the bulls arriving early in the morning and in the Plaza red and gold bunting, the colour of the Spanish flag, was being hung from the balconies surrounding the arena. There was a real buzz of expectancy about the place now and it was a real shame that we wouldn’t be there to experience it.

There were to be seven events and the fights involved three matadors with their band of attendants, the picador horsemen who lance the bulls and the banderillos who stab them with barbed spikes.  All bullfights follow the same pattern and these are the first two acts of a bullfight that are designed to weaken the bull before the final act of the show which always involves a series of intricate moves and daredevil passes by the matador before he makes his final lethal thrust between the bull’s shoulder blades.  If the spectators approve of the matador’s performance they wave white handkerchiefs to signal to the President of the fight that he should reward him with a trophy, one or both of the bull’s ears and/or its tail.  It is not a very fair fight it has to be said and each one comes to its inevitable conclusion with the death of the bull.

On the first day we had visited the castle on the south side of the Plaza so this morning we visited that part of the town we had left for another day and we walked in a northerly direction towards the elevated position of the cathedral.  From here there were good views of the Plaza and the bullring and this is where those without tickets would be jostling for position later in the day.  From here also there were uninterrupted views over the Meseta, the massive central plateau of Spain laid out like a patchwork quilt in front of us.  It was obvious why they built the town and its castle here because no one was going to sneak up on them, that’s for sure!

We walked back through the Plaza and now the horses had arrived and were being immaculately groomed just outside the entrance to the square.  I was surprised at just how small they were but they looked strong and agile and by the time the attendants had plaited their manes and tidied their tales they were beginning to look immaculate.  The horse is the mount of the picador and is a specialised breed that is bred to work with livestock.  It is forbidden by the National Bullfighting Rules to use the indigenous Spanish breed of horse the Pura Raza Española, the favoured mount of medieval knights and later cavalry regiments, for use in bullfights.  This is because they are too valuable because, although these days horses rarely get badly hurt, the role of the horse is a dangerous one because it has to take the full impact of a five hundred kilo charging bull.

We returned to the hotel to pack and outside there were two white mini-buses full of men checking in at reception.  These it turned out were the stars of the show, the matadors and picadors and all of their support entourage.  In Spain these men are like Premiership football stars and they are so popular and famous that they even have their own web sites.  Fighting today were two dashing young matadors called Alejandro Talavante and Jose María Manzanares and the reception was beginning to fill up with expensive leather travelling cases, sheathed swords and yellow, magenta and crimson capes.  One of these men would be staying in our room tonight and I guessed it might be either Alejandro or Jose María because I bet they get allocated a balcony room wherever they go.  With a last look into the garden from the balcony before Alejandro moved in we could see a man working hard to clean the blood and guts off of the capes that were left their from the previous fight no doubt.

http://www.alejandrotalavante.com/inicio.html

http://www.josemariamanzanares.com/

A function was held on 19th November,09 at the auditorium of  Archaeological Museum ,Sarnath,Varanasi.

Ven. K. Siri Sumedha Thero, Asstt. General Secretary, Mahabodhi Society of India presided the function.

Chief guest Prof. V. Kutumb Shastri (Vice Chancellor, Sampurnanand Sanskrit University) and Mr. Jainendra Kumar.

We drove directly to the very top of the old city and parked the car at a scenic point where there was a stunning vista stretching out below us.  The city was built here because the rocky outcrop of land lies between two deep river gorges, the Júcar and the Huécar and it made an excellent location for a defendable fortress.  We walked down from the car park towards the main Plaza where there were gaily coloured houses, shops and pavement cafés and bars and the city’s Cathedral that was completed in the thirteenth century but partly fell down in 1902 and over a hundred years later the rebuilding of the façade still remains to be fully completed. 

It was time for refreshment so we stopped at a café with tables in the sun and watched a bizarre gathering of what must have been nearly a hundred bike enthusiasts all of whom looked as though they had stepped off of the set of Easy Rider.  The police weren’t very welcoming and more and more of them arrived to keep an eye on things.  They didn’t seem to doing any harm but eventually someone important told them to move on and they fired up their black and chrome machines and left the Plaza with much revving of engines in an attempt to make as much noise as they possibly could.  The police kept straight faces but all of the people at the pavement tables thought it was very entertaining.

After this the Plaza settled back into a lazy Saturday afternoon and we moved on to see the rest of the city.  Following the route towards the edge of the gorge it was plain to see how the city had developed.  There was only limited space at the top of the rock so as it grew and it was unable to expand outwards the city went up instead and that explained the tall houses.  Even more dramatically it also went as far as it possibly could in making use of all available space and in the fifteenth century houses were built with rooms and balconies precariously overhanging the gorge above the Huécar River.  These are called the Las Casas Colgadas, the hanging houses, and are the most famous attraction in the city.

It was time for lunch so we returned to the top of the city stopping on the way to climb the castle walls and to admire the scenery of the gorges stretching out on either side of the city.  Climbing even further we reached the top and there were vantage points of the city from elevated craggy rocks where people were walking out and taking as much risk as they dare just to get the perfect photograph.

Our first choice of restaurant had no available tables and as people seemed as settled in as barnacles the prospects didn’t look good for some time to come so we found a second choice with a table in the sun and on account of the high prices declined a full dining experience and settled for overpriced toasted bread with tiny toppings instead.  To be fair it was in an excellent location and something like 75% of the menu price was just for the magnificent view.

Cuenca is famous for birds of prey and overhead there were large birds that were riding the thermals and looking for lunch.  Some of them were buzzards, which are quite common in Northern Spain but later we saw something different that we later identified as the magnificent Spanish Imperial Eagle and we considered it a privilege to have seen them.

It was late afternoon so we left Cuenca getting slightly lost in the tangle of streets on the way out and with no real alternative returned to Chinchón by the same route, first through the rugged hills and the winding road and then to the gentle rolling plains and the long straight road.  We drove on wide empty roads, so empty in places that we wondered from time to time if we had missed a road closed sign.  Eventually we arrived at the industrial town of Tarancón, which was not a place to hang around so we drove swiftly through and then followed a more direct route than we had taken this morning directly back to Chinchón where preparations for tomorrow’s bullfight were stepping up and there were a number of road closures that made it somewhat difficult to get back to the hotel and then some parking restrictions that meant having to pay to use the underground car park.

We purchased some beer and wine from the little shop that was open again this evening and then those of us that had a balcony enjoyed an hour in the sun with a glass of wine and those of us that didn’t stayed in their rooms.  Later we returned to the same restaurant/bar as the previous evening and, because Sue and Christine had declared the menu acceptable, we had mostly the same food again as well.

The Palacio Real was as far west as we planned to walk so now we turned around and started back towards the Plaza de la Puerto Del Sol but took an alternative route past the Teatro Real and through the Plaza de Isabel II along the Calle de Arenal and back to our starting point.  It was time for a drink so we thought it might be nice to sit in the Plaza Major but when we arrived there the prices were higher than we generally like to pay so we abandoned this particular tourist trap and began our walk east towards Bourbon Madrid.

In the appropriately named Plaza de la Puerto Del Sol the sun was shining now and in this wide open space the sun reflected off the buildings and the paving slabs and the temperature was rising steadily as we walked past the statue of the Bear and the Madroño tree which is the heraldic symbol of the city.   The Plaza is the very centre of Madrid and the hub of the radial network of the city’s roads and from here we walked down the busy Calle de Alcalá towards the museums and the political centre of Bourbon Madrid.  Calle de Alcalá is one of the oldest streets in the city and is flanked by impressive official buildings, ministries and financial institutions.  At ten and a half kilometres it is also the longest street in the city but we weren’t proposing to walk the entire length and after a few hundred metres we found a restaurant with pavement tables and our sort of prices.

A friendly waiter rushed out to attend to us and started to erect an umbrella but we stopped him and told him we liked the sunshine and he looked strangely puzzled by this.  Within a few minutes we discovered why because a blob of bird shit landed on Kim’s foot and when we looked up the tree that we were sitting under was full of pigeons.  We should have spotted that the pavement as well as some of the tables were covered in bird crap and that we were directly in the firing line.  I know that a bit of bird excrement on your shoulder is supposed to bring good luck but there is a world of difference between a bit of sparrow poo and a full arse load of pigeon shit.  We were understandably nervous after this and after we had finished our drinks more swiftly than we had anticipated we paid up and continued our walk.

Even though we were only there for a few hours our overall impression of Madrid was favourable and we liked the wide boulevards, the attractive plazas, the clean open spaces and the general hospitable ambiance of the city.  We continued our walk along the Calle de Alcala as far as the Plaza de Independencia where there was a busy road intersection and police officers theatrically choreographing the traffic almost as though they were conducting an orchestra.  This was another positive about Madrid because although it was hectic the Spanish drivers seemed surprisingly patient and polite.

We reached the Parque de Retiro, which is a huge public park that was full of tall deciduous trees in their full autumn glory and with paths that meandered below them.  It used to be a Royal park but now belongs to the city and it would have been possible to spend an entire day in there alone but it was way past lunch time and we were getting hungry so we only small a very small corner of it before we left through the Puerta de España and returned to the city streets.

We needed somewhere to eat but the road that passed by the Cortes and the Congress buildings was suffering a programme of major road works so as there was nowhere suitable here we returned instead to the little bar we had used a short time earlier and this time we let the waiter put an umbrella up for us.  We had bocadillos and tortilla and a final drink before we returned to the Plaza de la Puerto del Sol and retraced our steps back to the bus stop on the edge of town.

I got into a bit of a muddle about which side of the road the bus stop was on but it didn’t matter and after we had corrected the mistake we caught the bus and in late afternoon sunshine it took us back to Chinchón, which seemed much busier this evening as people seemed to be making preparations for Sunday’s bullfight.  The shop owner must have been busy elsewhere because the little mini-market was closed and that meant we had to source an alternative supply.  Mickey and I walked into town and stopped for a drink and were presented with a pickled eggplant as an appetizer.  It was quite nice but I made a mental note not to accept a second.  At a different little shop we purchased some wine and decided that we would have to try the local drink Anís de Chinchón, which is a bit like Pernot I suppose.  The smallest bottle on sale was a full litre but we bought one anyway and wondered if we would be able to drink it all in just two nights.

Those of us that had a balcony enjoyed an hour in the sun with a glass of wine and those of us that didn’t stayed in their rooms.  Later we met up and enjoyed a glass of champagne to celebrate Kim’s birthday and then when we returned to the Plaza we were surprised to find that everything had quietened down again so we selected an alternative restaurant/bar and had another meal of shared dishes.  Later we finished the evening in the hotel lounge with a carton of wine and the bottle of Anis and it quickly became clear that we almost certainly wouldn’t be able to drink it all in just two nights.

Speaking in the Scottish Parliament, Cathy Peattie has called on the Scottish Government to do more to support the Antonine Wall and the Bo’ness & Kinneil Railway. Cathy used the debate on Scotland’s Historic Environment to highlight the national and international importance of the World Heritage site and industrial museums such as the railway – “unique resources for our economy and our people” – and the difficulties they face and the potential they have to benefit the area and Scotland as a whole, given adequate government support and funding.

“With regard to the Wall, Falkirk and other councils are working with Historic Scotland, but without extra resources. They are told that the future may bring funding from public and private sources, but there is nothing on the table yet. Hadrian’s Wall is well supported by England. In Scotland, we have been promised jam tomorrow, but we are struggling to get even bread and butter today.

“Industrial museums are also very much the poor cousins of the sector, despite the large numbers of visitors who go through their doors. The railway museum at Bo’ness is a national treasure, and not just for Scotland, as some exhibits are unique in the UK. More can be done to give support. Such support is a win-win situation for people and the economy.

“The Scottish Railway Preservation Society is raring to go with its many plans to extend its work and expand the scope of its activities for volunteers from a wide variety of backgrounds – the existing locomotives have been refurbished on site by volunteers who have lovingly given their time, labour and expertise to the task. The SRPS would like to add a station at the Manuel junction with the main line. However, it can only do these things if funding can be found.

“Like the Wall, the railway provides enormous opportunity to enhance our historic environment and our economy. If we do not provide adequate funding then we are in danger of being left on the platform after the train has departed.”

Ends

full speech – http://snipurl.com/taj1

There was a definite autumn chill in the air when we went early to breakfast today, early because we were planning to visit the capital of Spain, Madrid.  Kim and I had previously planned to visit in March but due to a misunderstanding about train bookings on my part we didn’t make it.  This time there could be no such problem because there isn’t a train station in Chinchón so this time we were planning to go by bus.

It was still cool as we waited for the five to ten bus to arrive but we trusted the weather forecast and were in our shirt sleeves, which drew some looks of disbelief from the local people who were wrapped in woollies and big coats.  I must confess to having been a bit uncomfortable and I was glad when the banana yellow no. 337 bus arrived dead on time and we relieved to find that the driver had the heating on.

It is only forty-five kilometres to Madrid but that is by the direct route and the bus didn’t take the direct route as it meandered around the back roads and made several stops on the way.  For the first part of the journey the route was through fields of brown earth scorched into submission by the long Castilian summer and now waiting expectantly for winter respite and some rain.  Later it speeded up as it reached the outskirts of the third largest city in western Europe (after London and Berlin) and joined a motorway that took us to the final stop just on the edge of the central part of the city.

It had taken just over an hour and by the time we arrived it had begun to warm up.  We could have walked to the centre but we weren’t completely sure just how far that was so instead we elected for the metro.  Kim was nervous about this because the last time on a metro was in Athens when she had her camera stolen by a pickpocket.  This time she kept a vice like grip on her belongings but she needn’t have worried because it was way past rush hour and we didn’t share the carriage with that many passengers, which meant that it was easy to keep clear of those on board that she distrusted. That was everyone by the way!

It was only a short journey underground and we emerged quickly into the sunshine in the Plaza de la Puerto Del Sol right in the centre of the city.  After Paris, London, Rome and Barcelona, Madrid is the fifth most visited city in Europe and there were a hundred and one things to do and see but all of the interesting stuff had to wait for a few minutes because the first thing the girls wanted to do was to go to a cake shop for a snack and a coffee.  This confused Mickey and me but we really had to concede mostly on account of this being Kim’s birthday and she was most determined to have a birthday cake before lunch.

I wasn’t quite sure what to expect in Madrid, compared to London, Paris and Rome it only achieved capital status relatively recently, and there is no iconic building to define it, no Eiffel Tower, no Colosseum and no Westminster Abbey or famous cathedral or castle either so I was curious about what we were likely to see.

After we had had quite enough cakes we returned to the street and walked first in a westerly direction towards the Old City and the Palacio Real.  On the way we detoured via the Plaza Mayor, the original city square, which although it lacked the impact of somewhere like St Mark’s Square in Venice it was a similar arrangement with a large cobbled pedestrianised area, grand buildings and pavement cafés all around the sides.  We stayed for a while and then left to continue our sightseeing.

It was an unusual day, it was approaching midday and there was a clear blue sky but it was cool in the shadows of the buildings and it was already obvious that we wouldn’t be enjoying the same high temperatures of just a couple of days ago.  We passed through the Mercado de San Miguel, which was no doubt once a proper indoor market but has now been converted to a rather trendy bijou sort of place with specialist food stalls offering small samples and a good range of vibrant tapas bars.  According to legend, the tapas tradition began when the King of Castile Alfonso the Wise visited a tavern near Cádiz, and ordered a glass of sherry.  There was a gusty wind, so the innkeeper served him his glass of sherry covered by a slice of ham to prevent the sherry from getting dirty.  The King liked it, and when he asked for a second glass, he requested another tapa or ‘cover’ just like the first.  We might have stayed for a snack but we were still full of cake so we just wandered through and left.

Following the Calle Mayor we arrived at the city cathedral which seemed unusually modern and the reason for this is that when the capital of Spain was transferred from Toledo to Madrid in 1561, the seat of the Church in Spain remained in Toledo so the new one had no cathedral. There obviously wasn’t a great deal of urgency about the matter however and construction of a cathedral dedicated to the Virgin of Almudena did not begin until 1879 and due to the volatility of Spanish politics in the twentieth century was not completed until 1993.

Next door to the cathedral is the Palacio Real de Madrid, which with an area of one hundred and thirty-five square metres and nearly three thousand rooms is the biggest Palace in Europe and more than twice as big as Buckingham Palace.  It is the official residence of the King of Spain but he doesn’t live there, probably because it must be a bugger to heat in the winter and it is only used for official State Ceremonies. King Juan Carlos and the Royal Family choose to live instead in the more modest Palacio de la Zarzuela on the outskirts of Madrid.  We walked around the outside of the white stone palace and admired the views over the royal gardens and then visited the adjacent Plaza de Orient a spacious and well laid out pedestrian area with an extravagant fountain and equestrian statue of Philip IV surrounded by immaculate gardens with lines of statues of former Kings celebrating the period of the Reconquesta.

After lunch we returned to the sunny streets and because of earlier confusion retraced our steps a couple of times on our way back to the cathedral.  Kim refused to take charge of the map for fear that her earlier good fortune might be exposed as a fluke and I took over again on the way to the Jewish quarter.  In the past Toledo had changed hands many times and it was renowned for its diversity and religious toleration and we found the synagogues with admission prices that put us off entering and then after walking through a warren of mazy streets came out on the other side overlooking the modern town to the north. 

Every available square metre of this rocky outcrop has been built upon and the buildings are heaped together in a random and haphazard way with cobbled lanes revealing new delights at every twist and turn.  We negotiated the narrow confusing streets and the surprises back towards the Plaza Zocodover and as we did so passed through an area of artisan’s workshops where metal workers were making swords and knives and displaying them in the windows. 

Mickey was looking for just such a place and he was in luck because traditionally Toledo is famous for its production of steel and especially of swords and the city is still a centre for the manufacture of knives and other steel implements.  For soldiers and adventurers a sword made of Toledo steel was a must have item because the quality of the steel and the skill of the blacksmiths combined to make an exceptionally strong and perfect lethal weapon.  The Three Musketeers had Toledo steel swords and so did Don Diego de la Vega who was more famously known as Zorro.  The manufacturing process was a carefully guarded secret and to make such an exceptional weapon they had to select the very best raw materials and then follow a complicated technical process to achieve the right balance between hard and soft steel forged at a temperature of 1454º Fahrenheit for exactly the right length of time then followed by a critical cooling and shaping process.  So complicated was this whole procedure and so perfect was the finished weapon that to achieve this level of precision a master craftsman would typically only be able to make two or three blades in a year.  No wonder they were expensive!

Upon returning to the Plaza Zocodover our circumnavigation of the city was complete so we left the way that we had come and stopped off on the way down at a pavement terrace of a little hotel and had a final rest before returning to the car and taking the hour and a half journey back to Chinchón.  There was no realistic alternative route so we returned by the same roads, passed through Arunjuez, this time without incident, and then through Villaconejos where there was some sort of public meeting that seemed to be getting people excited and then arrived back at the hotel.

Those of us that had a balcony enjoyed an hour in the sun with a glass of wine and those of us that didn’t stayed in their rooms.  Later we assembled again at the bar across the road and then went back into town for evening meal.  It was strangely quiet again but we found a place that was open, the Restaurante Comendador and we had the menu del dia, which was alright but only just because to be truthful we weren’t really that hungry.  It was a very traditional sort of place where the customers had that curious Spanish habit of throwing their litter on the floor just underneath the bar where there was a collection of papers, cigarette ends and other waste that made the place seem most untidy.

There was a sign on the wall that said “No está permitido fumar” but it was next to a cigarette machine and the rule obviously didn’t apply here because the air was thick with acrid smoke.  Anti-smoking legislation became law in Spain on 1^st January 2006 but for small bars and restaurants the legislation offers the owner the choice of going smoke free or not but if it doesn’t it means that customers under eighteen years old are allowed in that bar.  Compared to other European countries, where smoking in the workplace is banned altogether, the Spanish legislation is weak and confusing and it is estimated that smoking continues in 90% of all small Spanish bars.

After we had finished eating we joined the locals in the bar for a while watching what looked like the Spanish equivalent of ‘You’ve been Framed’ with a collection of amusing bullfighting and bull running clips and then we returned to the hotel for a couple of hands of cards and a carton of wine.

The Intihuatana stone at Machu Picchu is arranged to point directly to the Sun at the Winter Solstice, and then casts no shadow.  How is this similar to the ancient sites of Ireland?

The Intihuatana stone at Machu Picchu

Thus the following excerpt from, With a Light Touch: Spiralling Impressions from Knowth to the Joyce Tower, by James Nemec LMT, CST-D, now posted for your reading pleasure at the sacred sites of Ireland website, Knowth.com See what happens when an American Tourist and an authentic Irish encounter the ancient site of Ireland’s, Knowth, in a new way — !

” “Did you happen to touch the stones?” I said to Eileen.
“What?”
“Did you touch the stones?”’
“Of course not,” she answered. “I’ve done that a million times at Newgrange.”
“It’s not the same,” I said.
“What?” We were going over another hill.
I said, “I’ll bet it’s not the same.”
“Nothing ever is,” she said above the noise.

The closest that I could come to remembering anything like this feeling was when I was visiting Machu Picchu with my Dad in the 1990s. The sense of using the body to interact with the stones was similar to my sitting on what was called, for short, “The Needle.” The actual name of the stone is the Intihuatana, or “hitching post for the sun.” The Needle was an ancient stone structure that looked like a giant seat and roped off from the tourists. The most important shrine at Machu Picchu, it was used by Inca astronomers to predict solstices and played into the mythology of the ancient Incas. I thought of the way the high priests of Machu Picchu would gather around this Needle while the common people prayed on the wide grounds below, but to me, it was just a big rock that looked like a seat.

After two days of being there, I slipped in under the rope and sat down on the smooth part. I began to feel a spine-tingling and sudden, powerful resonance. It was so strong as a focal point that it alarmed me. I felt if I sat longer the sky would open and split apart, or my brain would! After a minute or so, I got up from The Needle and went back under the ropes, and looked at it from there like a good tourist. The Kerbstones I’d touched at Knowth had the same kind of deep resonance, but it was clean and present and NOW. I just couldn’t place it. At Knowth, my body felt safe, and this feeling of safety, even of reassurance from the deep center of our star system, was very unlike the feeling I’d had while sitting on the powerful Intihuatana, at Machu Picchu …. “

All Rights Reserved

James Nemec LMT, CST-D

With courtesy of, Knowth.com

It was going to be a long day so we woke early ready for a quick start and as usual my first job was to check the weather.  The air felt fresher but from the hotel window I could see the sky was completely cloudless and the lady on Spanish breakfast television seemed confident that it was going to be fine all of the day. 

The hotel buffet breakfast was a bit expensive and Sue and Christine don’t generally eat a lot so we agreed instead to return to the Plaza Mayor and we ended up at the bar that we had used last night.  It was a bit chilly so we sat inside this morning and had a simple breakfast of toasted bread with either tomato or marmalade.  It was cheap and it was authentic and we really liked it.

We set off straight after breakfast because today we planned to drive to the city of  Toledo about one hundred kilometres to the west.  We left Chinchón and drove first through the town of Villaconejos, which had a curious one-way system and the most savage speed humps that I have ever encountered.  It really was impossible to drive over them faster than ten kilometres an hour and be confident of staying attached to the underside of the car.  Next we arrived at Arunjuez where there is a royal palace and desperately confusing road signs that inevitably meant that we immediately got lost.  The street signs seemed to have all the hotels and local restaurants listed and that left no room for directions to major cities like Toledo.

With a bit of luck we found our way across the town and shortly after that we joined a long straight road all the way to Toledo and the scenery began to change as it became untidy and scrubby as we left the chequerboard fields and their delightful colours behind.  Just before midday we reached the outskirts of Toledo and at the top of the city we could see the Alcázar and the Cathedral and we followed the signs to the historical centre and after I tried to be clever and find a parking spot close by, and failed, I found a very large and convenient free car park right on the edge of the city and in my league table of Spanish city car parks Toledo went straight to the top.  At the bottom by the way remains Seville!

It might have been right on the edge of the City but to get there involved a rather strenuous climb to reach it because Toledo is built on the top of a craggy outcrop of rock that in the middle ages made it impregnable to hostile forces.  The whole city is a sort of natural castle with a moat, the Tagus River, running in a looping gorge around three sides of it. The only way an enemy could take it was to attack the north side and that was difficult because that was the most strongly fortified part of the city walls.  The Tagus is the fourth longest river in Western Europe and the most important in Iberia and from Toledo it flows all the way to the Atlantic Ocean at Lisbon in Portugal.

Although it barely scrapes into the top one hundred biggest cities (it is actually eighty-sixth) Toledo has always been one of the most important cities in Spain and for many years it contested the status of capital with nearby Madrid and was in fact the principal city until 1560.  But Madrid gradually came to prominence under the Hapsburg Monarchy and Phillip II took everyone by surprise and moved his court there and made it his capital in 1561.  Toledo compensated for this by reinventing itself as the principal religious city in the country and today remains the seat of the Primate of all Spain.

At the end of the climb was the busy main square, the Plaza Zocodover, which was surrounded by tall imperial buildings and confusing little streets running off it in all directions.  Kim found the tourist information office and after a while we established our bearings and walked towards the centre of the city and the magnificent cathedral.  We walked around the outside without going in and then as it was lunchtime decided to find a little tapas bar that Kim and I had been to in March and thoroughly recommended.

This led to trouble because we disagreed about its location and we wandered around in circles for half an hour while we argued about directions.  I took us in a pointless loop and then up and down steps that led nowhere.  Kim was all the while confident that she knew exactly where it was but on past navigational performance I continued to doubt her.  I shouldn’t have because eventually we found it and even though there was a bit of luck involved I had to openly admit that she was correct and make a humiliating apology- twice I think!  After this she seemed to think she was Christopher Columbus or Scott of the Antarctic and she wasn’t going to let us forget that she alone had found this place.

We were glad that we had because this was a sociable little tapas bar that had a friendly waiter and an assortment of tasty dishes. We chose from the menu based on a combination of recommendations and previous favourites and (except for Sue and Christine’s chips) enjoyed a fine lunch and a couple of glasses of beer.  We were all friends again now and in good spirit, the sun was shining, the wine was flowing and Christine entertained us with her thoughts about eating and swallowing raw oysters!

I would have thought seeing one of the seven wonders of the world and one of the most famous buildings in the world would be only a once in a lifetime experience. I have just been informed however that for me the Taj Mahal will be a twice in a lifetime experience.

The magnificent Taj Mahal is situated in Agra in the North of India. This sacred site is considered one of those must sees in one’s life and millions of people make the trip to see the great structure every year. It is one of the most recognised and identifiable buildings in the world and a UNESCO World Heritage Site.

As my second trip to the famous Taj fast approaches, I thought I would reflect upon my first siting in 2005. After a business trip to the amazing Udaipur and a quick stop in Delhi, my father arranged for us to fulfil one of his lifelong dreams of seeing the Taj Mahal in person. It was to be a long day trip from Delhi to Agra, but an unforgettable journey.

We started the day with a 6am ride on one of the famous Indian trains, though we of course took 1st class so I feel I was somewhat robbed of the true experience. Upon arriving in Agra we were met by our guide for the day and taken to the closest car park to the Taj. There are no cars allowed within 1 kilometre of the great structure and so the last leg must be done on foot or as we chose, by horse and cart.

The trip leading up to the Taj Mahal is incredible with the typical indian life of markets, farm animals and busy people bustling about the streets. There are tour guides and souvenirs as with any popular tourist site but it all seems to be more cultural and relevant here.

Once up close you must walk through a series of red buildings and courtyards before you are met by the four gates. You then turn to face the Western gate which leads to the site you have travelled so far to see. My father could barely hold in his excitement but I wasn’t feeling the same way. I know it’s important and it’s so very famous but I had seen so many pictures so I wasn’t expecting to be dazzled or overwhelmed. The lead up and suspense to actually seeing the structure really does help the experience and I would be lying to say that I was anything less than speechless once faced with the Great Taj.

The experience begins as you walk through an enormous gateway with indian styled architecture into a dark middle section where the Taj Mahal is first framed in a natural window.

This is the typical photograph everyone has seen. As you continue forward, the gardens and  the enormity of this site are revealed to you. Once you have walked all the way through the arch and stand directly in front of the Taj with all it’s splendour laid out before you, you can but simply gasp at this amazing spectacle. I didn’t think it would affect me that much but I felt a shiver down my spine and a sense that I was experiencing something spectacular.

We spent a good 2 hours there strolling around the gardens, taking the mandatory 100 photos, viewing the river that runs out the back, seeing the muslim mosque and replicated temple which stand to either side and entering the Taj Mahal itself. Once close to the building you can see the true expense that went into it’s construction and the 17 years for which it took to be constructed. It is made of white marble with semi precious stone inlay both inside and out. The tombs of the great Maharaja who built the temple and his wife lay at the centre as a reminder of what the building was originally for, a final resting place of the kings beloved Queen. I most certainly recommend a guide to walk with you through the site as there is too much wonderful history and questions to be asked for you to miss out on.

My experience at the Taj was further cultured by the wonderful Indian people who were also viewing the site that day. It was Indian Tourist season in June when we went so for a rare time there were actually more Indian tourists then there were foreign tourists. To the delight of many of the Indian tourists that day they not only got to see the great attraction of the Taj Mahal but they were entertained by something else new and intriguing, ME!

As I stood on the main viewing platform at the centre of the site I began to notice a crowd forming near me. But instead of viewing the magnificent structure ahead, all eyes were on me. Slowly one by one, people came up to to shake my hand and speak to the white skinned, blonde haired, blue eyed girl who said “dhanyawaad” and “Namaste”. I didn’t realise until my guide informed me that many of the people may never have seen a white person before as they were coming from villages and towns where tourists would never go. Before I knew it, a busload of tourists were there and I was posing in a photo with 20 odd Indian people all wanting to hold my hand and say hello. This went on for at least 15 minutes before I gave Dad the signal to come and take me away from the madness. For me it was a truly humbling and special experience. To have people be so excited to meet you and interested in you for simply being different was a joy. I’m glad I could share that special moment with them in such a wondrous location.

Walking out of the garden and looking back over your shoulder at the Taj Mahal for one last time is almost as exciting as the first glimpse. You feel as though you have accomplished something great and you now have this memory to cherish until the end of your days.

I cannot wait to make the acquaintance of the Great Taj Mahal again. They say that you could visit it every day for a year and it would never look the same because in every light it has a new and different beauty. I will also be going with an Indian family as part of a wedding ceremony and a cultural tradition which will add to the experience. I am interested to see how culturally important this site is to Newlyweds and how important this structure has been in the Indian way of life.

For more information on the history of the site and how to get there visit:

http://taj-mahal.net/

http://www.tajmahalindia.net/

Quick history and background:

A beautiful story of love and Tragedy. The Taj Mahal was built by Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan in memory of his favourite wife, Mumtaz Mahal. It is Mughal Architecture, a style that combines elements from Persian, Indian, and Islamic aarchitectural styles. Building began around 1632 and was completed around 1653, and employed thousands of artisans and craftsmen.

Soon after the Taj Mahal’s completion, Shah Jahan was deposed by his son and put under house arrest. Cruelly locked in a  tower in the nearby Agra fort, where he was forced to look at his beautiful creation everyday. Shah Jahan had previously planned to build a second structure identical to that of the Taj Mahal but in black marble. He wanted to be buried in the tomb which would face his beloved wife’s final resting places so that they could look upon one another for eternity. Sadly, due to his don’t intervention, it wasn’t to be. Upon Shah Jahan’s death his son buried him in the mausoleum next to the centred tomb of his wife, making it the only unaligned or symmetrical part of the entire tomb.

Since 1983 it has been a UNESCO World Heritage Site and was cited as “the jewel of Muslim Art in India and one of the universally admired masterpieces of the world’s heritage.”