Monkeys in the Morning

We are now entrenched in our new hotel in Ubud, (that is pronounced Oobood), and is situated on Monkey Forest Road. See how colorful the Balinese peoples are, no old Elm street for them. It has been an interesting day getting here from Seminyak, where we were to here. We hired a driver, which was a good thing, both because he was cheap, but also he knew how to drive upon Bali’s twisty little roads, on the wrong side, with way, way too much traffic. We did see some interesting countryside though, and the trip was uneventful. We arrived in Ubud in time to get our luggage into our room and then stroll the streets in search of more food. As luck would have it, we were successful in both endeavors, and managed, once again to stave off starvation. It was then back to our room for a good nights sleep.

All was well until the early AM, about 6:00, when I heard a racket outside our room. Now Bonnie tends to be a tad peckish at this time of the day, particularly if she is awake, and I was beginning to get a bit upset with these workers who would not at least try for a little stealth, and as I was awake anyway, I decided to arise and face the day. After a shower, a shave, and a new change of clothes I was still subjected to the banging and thumping of the annoying workers. A stroll out to our deck soon changed my mind. Remember that bit about Monkey Forest Road? Well the workers were monkeys, and the banging and thumping was the sound of them running around our deck, and knocking the occasional tile from our roof. These are Macaque monkeys, and they apparently like to take a stroll through the hotel grounds each day in search of food. They have done an extremely good job of training the tourists, and will take food from your hand, with a perfectly shaped little hand of their own. The bunch that tour the hotel encompass several generations, and because of their comfort level with humans will pose for some rather interesting pictures. After two or three hours, they all left the hotel, and went back to the forest.

Having missed the monkey excitement, I felt compelled to enthuse about my situation to Bonnie, but she seemed less enthused than I expected. I guess that this was probably due to the fact that not being up, prevented her from looking deep into their monkey eyes and seeing the intelligence that dwelt there. Actually, I swear that I have seen less awareness in the eyes of some of our politicians.

Yesterday we did the touristy thing, like go to the villages to view the artisans works, see the temples and the countryside. Well worth the trip, but of course we had to buy some of the local wares. I would like to place the blame for most of this upon Bonnie’s shoulders, but she may read the blog and note that I had taken some liberties with the truth. Our first stop was at a shop where they had done wood carvings for many generations. In fact, they had only carved for the temples until the 1980’s, and some of their work is quite spectacular. We spent considerable time admiring the numerous pieces, and then decided upon a small carving which we could bring back with us. We were sort of like kids in a candy store, we had a very difficult time choosing.This is not a picture of the carving which we chose, as it was about four feet tall. It was carved from a single piece of wood, including the cage for the chicken. There is also a chicken carved inside the cage, as well as the chicken on top. Even the weaving pattern of the cage itself has been carved. It is interesting to note that only the men of the family carve, but the women do the finishing work, such as the sanding and polishing. The middle aged lady who assisted us, was descended of some of the carvers, both her father and grandfather were carvers there. In fact, it was a carving done by her father which we chose.

Our next stop was to a temple, one of the oldest in Bali. It began life as a Buddhist temple in the ninth century, and then carried on as a Hindu temple in the eleventh century, and carried on, side by side until 1917, when a volcanic earthquake toppled the statue of Buddha. There are plans to restore the statue when funding is available. The Hindu temple is primarily a cave, which is known as the Elephant temple. This is in itself somewhat interesting, as there have never been elephants in Bali, and the answer to this question is that it was named for the Elephant river, which is nearby. Of course, this does little to explain how the river came to be named. The Hindu religion seems to have a God for every occasion, and even have one in the form of an elephant — sort of. It is called Ganesha, and has the body of a woman, and the head of an elephant. I believe that I might have gone to school with this girl, or maybe she had the body of an elephant, and the head of a woman. It was a long time ago, you know. Either way, she probably had a wonderful personality. The Balinese tend to utilize any area that is suitable for growing rice, to do just that, and there are rice paddies on the temple grounds. Of course, we had to tour these as well. All went well, and as these were very old paddies, there was even a concrete walk separating two off the paddies, well all went well until I decided to capture this Kodak moment with a picture of Bonnie and our guide. In my best artistic efforts to capture the perfect effect, I stepped off the concrete walk and into the paddy. The difficulty here was that the first step was about four feet, and I was doing it by means of a half-gainer. I managed to keep my camera air side up and out of harms way, as I assumed a horizontal position amongst the rice stalks. The next thing I heard was Bonnie screaming, no doubt concerned for my well being. Well not screaming exactly, more like loud laughter, showing a most cheerful disposition that is seldom displayed. Now if “she who laughs” expects that I should hurl myself into a rice paddy on a daily basis, so that she may start each day on an up note, she has another thought coming. I have to draw the line somewhere. Now I don’t know how many of you have recently strolled through a rice paddy, but they keep those puppies wet. This makes about an eight inch layer of mud on the bottom from which it is most difficult to break the death grip of suction. Were it not for the assistance of our able guide, I may well have been compelled to stay there for another month, when the fields are drained for harvest. The above picture shows Bonnie and our guide. Her great smile is still laughter, and as I had to wash my shirt and mud encrusted sarong before this shot was taken, you can see just how amused she was, but note that the camera still works. When I returned my “rent-a-sarong” I quickly slipped it in with the rest of the bunch. It was still quite wet, and I didn’t wish them to think me incontinent as well as stupid.

Another stop, another temple. This one with special healing waters. Too hard to redirect the Ganges all the way from India, so the ancient priests found a river of their own. As it happened, the day that we were at the temple, was also a day of the full moon. That means that it is the day that you are supposed to bring gifts to the priests, and have a splash in the sacred waters. Quite frankly, I had had enough of splashing in the water for one day, so I was avoiding both polls and paddies. Bonnie couldn’t see her way to participate without getting her hair wet, and that is a no – no, so we left this festive occasion to the locals. I didn’t notice any new Lamborghinis parked in front of the priests, so their gifts seemed to lean more towards food and such.

One of the high spots of our little tour, was a trip to the mountains. No pun intended. When we got up to the top of a viewing mountain, we would have a scenic vista of the tallest mountain in Bali. It also happen to be a volcano, but you can’t hold that against it, many mountains in the area are volcanic. Unfortunately, by the time we got to the summit of our mountain, the torrential rains were in full force. We took this un-Kodak moment to have some food at a view point restaurant. The nice part now was that everyone was wet, and I didn’t look out of place at all. Not only that, but as we were eating, the deluge ceased long enough to take a few pictures. The return trip back to Ubud took us through some of the area of Bali where they grow fruit and spices, as well as passed some older rice paddies which had been terraced into the hillsides. All in all, a mostly pleasant and eventful day. Our driver was great and had rather a good command of the English language. This being rather good as our command of Balinese amounts to zip. It is back to our hotel and a good nights sleep, for who knows what tomorrow has in store.

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Off to Ubud

Something that I neglected to mention when I was telling about my Amazon Kindle, was that as well as books, you could also subscribe to some magazines and newspapers. In addition, it has the ability to be used as a MP3 player. Just think, I could load up the device with “Sweatin’ with the Oldies” tunes, dress up in my silk gym shorts, and do jumping jacks with Richard Simmons. Now is this not a disgusting picture? Maybe I’ll just stick to loading books into my Kindle.

Another form of exercise, here in the tropics, is strolling on the beach, and Bonnie tries to encourage me to participate in this endeavor whenever possible. However, if I am compelled to ogle another pair of naked, sun burnt, European bosoms, while holding my breath until my face turns purple and my chin is covered with drool, it will be too soon, exercise or not. Bonnie is the one with the disgusted look on her face, trying to keep far enough ahead of me so that no one realizes that we are together. At one point I thought that perhaps these ladies were unable to afford both parts of their swim suits, and I felt bad for their poverty, but then it came to me that these were not locals who were sun burning, but travellers, and if they could afford airline tickets they should be able to afford an entire swimsuit. It now appears that they intentionally dressed this way. Perhaps this is a testing ground for a new allied military strategy, as I read somewhere that if a male individual who was a follower of Islam beheld a naked infidel woman, he was compelled to commit suicide, or poke his eyes out with a sharp stick, or something like that. If it works here they may try this strategy in the mid east.

Tomorrow we are moving to Ubud, a city in the inland area of Bali, so I will not have to subject myself to beach time … or Bonnie poking out my eyes with a sharp stick.

Also didn’t mention that on our “temple tour”, the second temple which we visited was guarded by monkeys … many many monkeys. Now one of the deities of the Hindu faith is sort of a monkey man type of dude, and he is one of the good guys, so the monkeys have pretty much a run of the temple. On the upside, they are plentiful, plus they will work for peanuts. Much of the peanuts are supplied by the tourists, as the monkeys have learned that if they take something from the tourists, (such as glasses etc.), the tourists will trade peanuts to get their items back. There are, of course, vendors who will sell you peanuts at the entrance gate. Rather a symbiotic relationship, methinks.

We are quite enjoying Bali, the people are friendly and informative and the ones at our hotel have been very helpful. The food has a flavor of its own, (as we have found in all of Asia), with some different spices and methods of preparation. There doesn’t appear to be the variety of fruit available in Bali that there was in Thailand, but they do have Durian. It looks a bit different than that which I sampled in Thailand, and a bit smaller, but I’ll not probably give it the comparison test.

Not certain what our itinerary entails today as my social convener has not yet arisen. It is just as well, as it is raining at the moment, and that sometimes causes her to be “a little bit grumpy”. At least that is the way it seems to work in Sidney, but we shall see what we shall see.

Take care, and we will keeps you posted as time and internet permit.

T

Beautiful Bali

Our flight to Bali goes via Kuala Lumpur, in Malaysia, where we have a five hour layover between flights. As we entered the airport at Kuala Lumpur, I became quite concerned that we had made a wrong turn and had arrived in Mecca. There were no camels, but there were Muslims everywhere. Now having a five hour layover gave me considerable time for study, and I came to several conclusions. Firstly, I have determined that it is hair, on women, which the Muslims deem so offensive, for there were women of the faith who were dressed in a very contemporary fashion, to those dressed in burkhas, and that which they had in common was a covering for their hair. Now the more fashionable young ladies wore sleeveless shirts, skirts to their knees, and high heels —- but they had their hair respectfully covered by colorful silk scarves. The more traditional attire comprised a long dress, to the ankles, and a head scarf of a heavier material. My thoughts are that these women probably had hairy arms and legs, and so kept them covered as well. There were also similarly dressed ladies who additionally kept the lower portion of their faces covered with a portion of their scarves, this perhaps to hide some unwanted facial hair, such as a mustache or a wispy beard. Now we come to those ladies encased in a burkha. They must be some kind of ugly, for in addition to the aforementioned furry bits, they must also be blessed with a luxurious “uni-brow”, like a giant caterpillar crawling above their eyes. This requires that even their faces must be hidden, and so they must look at life through a mesh screen, much like the dude in the mascot chicken costume at the US football games. The Muslim men are not subjected to the same restrictions, and most have no discernible dress code at all. Some men sported a little beanie, and a few wore long dresses to their ankles. I don’t believe that the latter were “girly guys”, as they wore no make-up. It can’t be a hair thing with the men, as many of them also proudly sported “ratty” little beards, All this serious thought managed to make time fly, and before we knew it, it was time for our flight on to Bali.

Our plane arrived without mishap, our luggage intact, no trouble at customs, and an easily found taxi to take us to our hotel. Talk about smooth, and much appreciated after what turned into a long day. Not only that, but we have a very nice hotel, on the beach, with most helpful and friendly staffing. Things are looking quite good.

Bali sits about six points south of the equator and is a tad warmish. Add to this the part about this being their rainy season and the humidity reaches the saturation point. I can work up a nasty sweat just trying to get out of my own way, so I don’t try to move too often. This gave me time for another thought regarding the ladies in the burkhas, particularly as the color of choice appears to be basic black. Sort of the “little black dress” thing I guess. Anyway, I got thinking that if I was encapsulated in a tent like thing, someone would have to hit me with a pressure washer before I could even climb into the shower. Possibly the people here don’t perspire, but I can’t see it. Now all this would make a very clever disguise for anyone who was up to no good, as first of all it would be nearly impossible to casually determine the sex of the individual, and then no one would want to get close enough to really find out. I guess that I will just have to watch for people in burkhas who are trying to set their Adidas on fire.

Now far be it for me to gloat about anything, well — unless I had an audience,— or if I was alone,— or with someone, — well any way I must tell you about the nifty gift my grandchildren got me for Christmas. I suspect with considerable input from the bank of “mom and dad”. The gift is an Amazon Kindle. For those of you who are as technically challenged as my own self, the “Kindle” is an e-book system put out by Amazon. It is about the size of a paperback and about 3/8 of an inch thick. It ways 10.2 oz. Through the cellular telephone network, one can download books from Amazon, (and others), at a cost significantly less than bookstore rates, and can do this from over 100 countries. It will download a book in under a minute, and the cell phone costs are included in the price. Neat eh? I have over fifty books downloaded for my holiday entertainment, and the little rascal still only weighs 10.2 oz. Much easier on the luggage — and the back

Got some nice snaps of Bali sunsets, and some of the local highlights as well. Did a bit of a touristy tour yesterday. Took in a couple of old Hindu temples that were constructed in about the eleventh century.. Not at all like the temples that we saw in Thailand, or those we saw in Cambodia. These were more spread out, and built upon little rocky spots on the sea shore. The sound of the crashing waves possibly offered some degree of tranquility, or perhaps it was just that they were here first and wanted the spot with the best view. Quite nice at any rate. Followed this up with a dinner at a beach restaurant. Lobster, crab, prawns, clams and mussels, plus a fish with its head still on. Oh yes, a couple of glasses of a “made in Bali” wine, all this for about the price of a bottle of wine in Canada. Now the local wine was not that bad, and “she who shops” actually ate some of the fish, and enjoyed it, even though it was still looking at her.

We are enjoying the pace here in Bali, and will move to another area in a few days. Will keep you posted at any rate.

T

Just takin’ it easy

We left our nice hotel in Kata and moved to Bang Tao beach area. The main reason is that it is much closer to the airport. (More on that later) It is also very quiet. like a lot of Thailand, we have been here before, and stayed at the same hotel, called the Kris Resort. New last year and quite nice. The area is north of Patong and part of the area most devastated by the tsunami, but it is difficult to tell now, as it has all been rebuilt. The town proper is quite some distance from the resort area and so does not lend itself well to those who shop. Speaking of she who shops, I fear that she is possibly coming down with some blighted disease, for she has refrained from purchasing to excess, and in fact we have yet to send even one parcel home. With the exception of a few shirts, well that and a few scarves, she remains without purchases. I trust that this will remedy itself once we get to Bali, as I am certain that there must be a cure for this malady.

Like I mentioned, Bang Tao is quite laid back, and as I was trying my best to blend in, sitting on the deck doing nothing, I noticed some of the locals hard at work. This was in a rather large field next to our hotel, and the work crew comprised of three men and a monkey, or perhaps four men, one of whom was quite short and very hairy. Now the “short hairy one” was tied to a long rope, and was sent up the coconut trees to harvest the coconuts. He was really quite selective and upon removing the chosen coconut from the tree, would wing it down in the area of the three other fellows, one of whom would collect the coconut and throw it in a cart attached to a motorcycle. Or perhaps  the hairy guy was trying to hit the other three, but a coconut is big enough to see coming. The rope on the main worker guy was, I assume, a means to encourage him to come back down from the tree on demand. It would also prevent him from sitting in the treetop laughing and presenting the finger to those still on the ground. When you think that this was a thriving enterprise with at least three and one half employees, the only one who appeared to be working had a big responsibility in that all their livelihoods rested on his shoulders. Sort of like government work.

Now I did mention that we moved, partially to be closer to the airport. Our flight to Bali left at 8:50 AM, and as it is considered an international flight we were expected to be there two hours prior. Even with our closer proximity to the airport, we are still a good half hour away, so that makes our hotel departure in the neighborhood of 6:00 AM. Now even with a “flash face” from the magic face case that would still mean a “open your eyes, its morning” time of about 5:00 AM. Well we made arrangements for a wake up call for 5:00 AM and a taxi at 6:00, and then promptly went to sleep, and slept, and slept until 6:00 AM when we were informed that our taxi was waiting. It seems that our wake up call must have gone to the wrong room, so now we are scrambling. At 6:20, we are checking out and getting into our “new taxi” and on the way to the airport. But this is Thailand, panic is not that necessary. We cleared customs and all that stuff, and still made our flight. Next stop Kuala Lumpur, and then Bali, — but that is another blog.

Back to the Big Buddha

Took another trip up to the Big Buddha. This would be the third such trip, as we have visited the site each year that we have visited this area. The Buddha was begun about ten years ago and is constructed from concrete, all 150 feet of it. After shaping the statue, the surface was inlaid with white marble tiles, which were again shaped and smoothed to give it’s present surface. The scaffolding that is presently erected around the head portion of the statue is to enable the workers to do the fine finishing touches. In this instance it was to install the eyes of the Buddha. The pupils were ground and shaped from serpentine rock from Burma, and the whites of the eyes are shaped from mother of pearl. It remains but to install the marble tiles on the lotus pedals, where the Buddha sits, and the  statue proper will be completed, but the job far from over. Construction now begins upon the retaining wall and temple buildings. Now it is not that the workers are so desperately slow, but as the construction was done through donation and the sale of the marble tiles. So finance had a very big part in the building.

Now i am a bit uncertain if possibly the Thai peoples are hoping to construct an edifice which may last thousand of years. The Cambodians have Anchor Wat which has stood the test of time, the Chinese have the Great wall, and now the Thai have the Giant Buddha. Little do they realize that they still have their mattresses, which I am certain will last a thousand years. All those coil springs which they managed to scrounge from General Motors after the production of the autos of the 60’s, went into the production of mattresses. The beds that we slept upon three years ago are every bit as firm today as they were then. I believe that had general motors engineered the rest of the car to last as long as the coil springs, they would not now be owned by the US taxpayer. But back to the Buddha! You can see the square shaped marble tiles on the bee hive shaped items in the picture, both in the rough installation and then again once they have been ground and shaped. These “bee hives” are actually part of the hair styling of the Buddha, where hundreds of these adorn the head. It gives you a bit of the picture of just how much labor has gone into the construction.

Interesting to note that the scaffolding is comprised of bamboo sticks, tied together with chunks of old rope. The workers scurry about this rather flimsy looking structure, with no apparent worries. No thank you very much!

Our next stretch appears to be Bali. Don’t know how the internet will be, but I will try to keep in touch, and the blog updated. And oh yes, you will note the addition of some photos to the blog. Grand daughter, Brooklyn, tried to teach me how to do this last year, but having the mental retention of a chicken, by the time I tried it, it didn’t work. Took another lesson this year from son (Troy), and voila. Not yet perfect, but getting there.

Best to all

T

People watching

Upon looking at the west coast beach areas of Koh Phuket, (Phuket Island), it is hard to realize the devastation that was here a few short years ago. Hotels and resorts have been rebuilt and the beaches are full and the towns are busy. Soon the death and destruction left by the Tsunami will be but a memory, a tale to be passed down by an older generation.

It would appear as though there are more Europeans here this year, than in the past. Still a lot of Scandinavians, but Europe appears to be the area to flee from this year. Maybe the mounds of snow that they are encountering, along with the strong winds and freezing temperatures has encouraged them to travel. Something new that I noticed this year, particularly in Patong, are the number of old Gaffers with a “suicide” hair do By this, I mean “dyed by their own hand” It would seem that once these old fellows escape from their extended care lodges, or the watchful scrutiny of care giver children, they flee to Patong and incorporate a clever disguise. The problem with “dyeing on the cheap” is that there appears to be a very small choice in colors. Those with a full head of hair appear to prefer “coal black”, as extracted from a can of Nugget shoe polish. This give the casual look of possibly a black cat having landed on ones head, and then hung on for dear life I have been tempted to take a peek under the black mat with the thoughts of finding a pair of eyes glaring at me, but that would only satisfy idle curiosity. The other group of debonair gentlemen are those with a comb-over. This is where they try to extract sufficient hair from their ears to drag up to the top of their skulls, or as close to as possible. (I have more experience in this category). Now for some reason, these dashing rascals appear to prefer a brilliant orange color, similar to the dye used on the robes of the novice monks, and is thus likely to be very available and for a modest cost. The result is a fuzzy orange wreath, worn in the Roman style, part way around the head. Now as Patong is the area of choice for the party crowd, and is thus filled with the younger tourist group, I suspect that the clever disguise is used in hopes of blending in — I hate to tell them, “it ain’t working”. Of course, I could be mistaken and Patong is actually hosting a convention for retired circus clowns. One never knows.

We have now moved to Kata, probably the most quiet of the three major beach towns on Phuket, but our favorite, eating and sleeping playing a bigger role in our life style it seems. We will be here for a few more days and decide if and when we will move on to Bali and Malaysia.

We will keep you posted.

T

Deja – vu Asia 2010

Have you ever opened your eyes and thought “ I’ve seen this before”? Well I had that deja vu experience, but hey, here we are, back in Thailand, and I have seen this before. Fortunately, strong winds and horizontal rains that were on the verge of sleet, prompted her own self into booking some tickets, and here we are. I, of course put up a valiant struggle to stay at home and enjoy the rain — or perhaps I was mistaken that I did that, and if I had, I should be beaten with a stick. Ah yes, — it is good to be back. There is an abundance of sun, and Thailand is still filled with warm and friendly people.

We were fortunate in our flight arrangements to procure our tickets with Cathay Pacific. As we were flying “baggage”, and in the air for some seventeen hours it is nice to have the bit of extra leg room that they seem to provide. All they need to do now, is figure out a way to abolish jet-lag and travel will be a breeze. Had a bit of a time turning day into night and vice versa — hey, maybe I am morphing back into a teenager? Falling into the swing of things now. It is amazing what one can do when they force themselves.

Don’t know just how frequent the blogs will be this trip. The difficulty in us repeatedly returning to these same areas which we enjoy so much, is finding new things to write about, but I’ll try. I believe that I have previously mentioned a time or three, just how great is the variety of fresh fruit, and how much we enjoy having it so readily available. I have not included “Durian” , (see above photo) in that list, as I had not savored its flesh. Now for those of you not in the know, durian is a fruit which hides in a sort of shell, about the size of a basketball. It is covered with little pyramid shaped spikey lumps, and is definitely not the type of fruit which you would like to be dropped in your lap. In addition, most hotels here, have warnings posted in the rooms stating that durian is not allowed, and if the rule is broken, eviction may result. This bad rap for the poor durian appears to be the result of a some what distinctive odor, likened to that of rotting flesh, or possibly rotten eggs. However, faint heart never kissed a pig, and as we found a fruit vendor who was willing to sell us a small amount of just the flesh, we added it to our purchase. Now, in order to offset the distinctive odor and ugly appearance, supposedly, the flesh has the texture of a pudding and an incredible amount of healthy benefits. Methinks that this last bit of PR was devised by those who wished to sell said durian, as when I opened the package, I was definitely aware of a distinctive odor. It was not that of a rose garden! Now not having a great deal of experience with rotting flesh, trying my best to eat all meat products in the fridge in a timely fashion. I am not quite as responsive to the condition of vegetables, for I surmise that they could get stuck in ones throat and become a health hazard. Anyway, back to my durian, I would guess that the smell would be somewhere in a mix of possibly rotted flesh and diaper poo. The “pudding – like” flesh, was more like that of partially cooked artichokes, but what the heck, I had gotten this far, and the truth was in the taste. Well, my guess is, some of scent of the “diaper poo” spilled over into the flavor, so on a scale of one to ten, I would be hard pressed to give it a two. Maybe it is like a single malt, an acquired taste. I shall never find out — the durian, not the single malt.

Decided yesterday to dine at one of our favorite restaurants in this area, “The Red Chair Restaurant”. This is a small place , off the beaten track, and mostly frequented by locals — very good food and very cheap. The one small setback is that we are staying in Karon, and the restaurant is in Kata, which I believe must be about a hundred miles apart, — well maybe 3 ½ miles apart, but it feels like a hundred in the hot sun. On our return walk, Bonnie appeared to get tired of my whining and snivelling about my “poor me” and my sore feet, so she suggested — no, insisted, that I experience a fish foot massage. This also gave her some time to stroll through some shops while I was otherwise occupied. Now this fish thing was a long aquarium set on the floor, and next to a bench, upon which you could sit. First a young lady washed your feet, not that my feet would require such treatment after three hours of walking in the afternoon sun, and then you plunked your feet into the fish bowl. You are immediately beset upon by cannibalistic hoards of these fish, who commence to eat you alive. Now, in fact, these fish are only two or three inches long, and are only dining upon the old dead pieces of skin particles on your feet. It is a different experience to say the least. Would I take it over the traditional Thai foot massage?, probably not, but it is like comparing apples and oranges — same, same, but different. By the time we made it back to our hotel in Karon, I am certain that we had consumed more calories than we had gained, and I suspect that this is a good thing.

We will be changing accommodation today so I will get back to blogging once we are settled. Take care and have fun!

T