Not a day on the beach then..... (Sunday 28 February 2010)

Following the big earthquake in Chile, the Philippines, along with most other Pacific nations was put on tsunami alert. After the last really big one in Chile in 1960, it reached here and had devastating effects. Buy it wasn’t quite as dramatic as it sounds as the alert was mainly for those eastern islands with coasts that were directly on the Pacific. Cebu is tucked nicely away in the middle. So no real problem, everything went on as usual and even this morning it only got a mention on the inside of the Sunday papers. The main news on the frontpages here is interviews with the presidential candidates for the election in May, all about their health, fashion, personal habits and living style – no mention of their politics.... But being a health and safety sort of a girl I did have my evacuation plan. Basically fill the backpack with the duty free gin, every antiseptic handwash I posess and the contents of the hotel mini bar, Snickers and Pringles included. I reckoned that would see me through 24 hours on the nearest hill if needed! But as you know, thankfully it wasn’t. And at the dreaded hour it would have hit (but I knew it should have been ok) I decided to take the high ground in the hotel just in case. Just happened to be the Oyster Bar built up over the beach on a solid rock foundation about three metres above sea level. I drank a cube and watched the tiny waves lapping the sand as usual – the only likely tsumami today would have been me diving in the pool after the huge included breakfast I had eaten...
But joking apart, I was relieved and happy that the warnings came to naugt.

Tonight I wandered out through the huge gates of the hotel – it was just dark and it really is a bit rough. You get hassled all the time – not in a bad way, but just for trikes, massage, necklaces, business must be really slow. There are very few streetlights, mad traffic and dust everywhere. Crossing the road to go to the Korean Mini market was a job in itself...... Coming back into the hotel I realised just how nice it is. A flash spa, pools everywhere, lovely little bungalow thatched rooms and smart smiley staff.

Tie a yellow ribbon (26 - 27 February 2010)

Have left Moalboal and driven to the big city – Cebu City. I enjoyed Moalboal, but it was a bit quiet, so don’t visit unless you either read a lot or dive! Oh – and speak German!


I am now on Mactan Island just off the Cebu mainland, but the good news is that there is a bridge connecting the two. Every ferry disaster you hear of seems to be in the Philippines, so I was never going to get a boat!


The drive back from Moalboal was the one I did two weeks ago, just in reverse and with a different driver. But coming into Cebu we took a slightly different route – but the sights were the same. Terrible shanty towns, no evidence of any real prosperity and packed colourful jeepney’s fighting for road space with the buses. Until of course you enter the resorts which are a different world. I am in the Maribago Bluewater resort for four days. I needed to move nearer the airport and decided that it would be good to be here, both to visit Mactan and to be able to visit Cebu – a Philippine City. The hotel is very nice, typical resort but low rise, many here for example the Shangri La and the Hilton are not. This one is pools everywhere and a white sugar sand beach with turquoise sea. My favourite is the intercom on the pole under each beach umbrella for you to order drinks or food so you don’t have to walk anywhere! Fab! There is also a little sand island just out to sea that they paddle you to in a little boat or you can swim over at low tide. So all very civilised, guess I’m flashpacking again. The picture in the road outside the resort is, however, a little different. It’s a ribbon development of small “shops” selling nothing but dusty bottles of Coke and the odd sachet of Ariel soap powder dangling sadly across the front. The houses are grim, dark, weatherbeaten wooden structures patched up with driftwood. Just outside the hotel is a taxi (well I use that word advisedly – a trike perhaps is better) stand, a tattoo parlour and a money changer. The trike man’s cafe is not a place I plan for dinner......

So it’s now a typical Saturday night – just had pizza and a decent glass of wine and am now being entertained – no, sadly not the X Factor on ITV but the “dance that’s been around for thousands of years” at the cultural show round the pool. Half naked muscle bound men (so it ‘aint all bad) in feathers and big beaks (I’m sure I’ve seen it all before – was it Mexico or Guatemala?) The staff here are very friendly as I sit on my terrace typing this. The young security guard stops for a chat and asks the usual question about where is the husband. I should learn and just say “at home”. But on hearing there wasn’t one he asks why “as I am such a beautiful woman” (well at least someone thinks so....) I am not looking for a new one. I wonder if he was putting himself up as a candidate – well I suppose it would make a change from all those men coming here to look for wives....


For the last few weeks I have become somewhat bored of German and Dutch voices. Here they have been replaced with Chinese (Hong Kong, I think), Japanese, noisy Korean and Russian. Oh to hear a Brit, an Ozzie or even at a push, an American! I have also been asked if I am German or Russian – does this mean that the state of the pound (dire as usual) means most Brits have stopped travelling.... But does it also mean that the sun has bleached my hair really badly and I have put on huge amounts of weight and dress really badly...... I hope not. And can someone please explain the Japanese habit of taking pictures at all angles, in all places and grinning inanely at the camera whilst holding both hands up with the Churchillian “V” sign.....


I also have to admit to a tech failure last night. Going to bed, I could turn all the lights off except one in the corner which was shining directly in my eyes. I looked everywhere, tried every switch but to no avail. It was no good, and I couldn’t find the eyeshades I had brought from the plane for exactly this eventuality. So I thought laterally – now I know it’s not a good picture, but imagine me with a pair of black knickers wrapped round my head to keep out the light.... It worked. But I felt foolish this morning when I asked the housekeeping lady how to turn it off. She just made sure the wardrobe doors were shut properly.....


And now the yellow ribbons – no I haven’t been kidnapped. As I got nearer to Cebu city, every tree, telegraph pole, roadside plant and lamppost was festooned with huge amounts of yellow ribbons. I ask what it all means and am told that it’s for the forthcoming elections which are in May, the same time as I think ours might be. Perhaps someone should suggest this to Gordon Brown – trees festooned with red, blue and yellow ribbons would surely cheer up the nation in the grey weather!

It does what it says on the tin (19 February 2010)

I gather my courage today and decide to brave another trike ride to go and see the famed White Sand Beach. The trike called for me by the hotel seems even smaller and older than the last one, but I squeeze in anyway. One of my concerns was whizzing along the main road with the mad buses overtaking, but no, we take a back route that keeps me from mad buses but of course along an unmade road all the way. I brace myself with my feet against the front (avoiding the big rust holes) and hang on to the roof for dear life.


Our route takes us through more village areas. The houses here are even smaller, most no larger than the summerhouse in my garden and on small stilts. More kids playing around, chickens, goats, but also the flutter of a lace curtain in the breeze, interior design is obviously important here. One tiny hamlet has a big church. On we bump through banana plantations to arrive at the entrance to the beach where I have to fork out 5 peso’s entrance fee. Bearing in mind that 5 peso’s is about 3p it’s hard to imagine that the cost of the labour to collect this adds up to anything like profit. But we go on for another couple of hundred metres and are now asked for 10 peso’s – I think the is the trike park fee.

And there the beach is, exactly as described on the tin, a long, deserted, sweeping crescent of almost white sand. There are a few tumbledown restaurants and not much else. The water is clear and turquoise and I find just one small resort. But lovely for a wander up and down and to take in the view of Negros, another large island across the water. There are a few clouds today and as they pass over they make the volcanic mountains of the island look dark – almost like Scotland.


I was puzzled as to why such a beautiful long beach was so underdeveloped when Panagsama, which has not much of a beach to speak of was, so much more developed. I visit the basket lady at the bottle museum and book exchange and ask her. She was still making baskets by the way.... Apparently until the great typhoon of 1984 (followed by one almost as bad in 1992) that destroyed it, Panagsama beach was the same as White Sand, a long sweeping crescent. But when they rebuilt they built the new buildings too close to the shore not giving it room to recover. And so far there is not enough business to develop White Sand as well. So it stands empty apart from one lonely trader trying to sell pearl earrings. There was me on the beach and one guy just coming in from snorkelling. When I turned down his earrings the trader went straight to the snorkeller who was still in the water in his wetsuit – the trader seemed surprised he wasn’t interested in said earrings! But it did surprise me in one way, I hadn’t realised that Cunard had launched the QM3, but there it was in all its glory, awaiting its passengers!

The basket lady also tells me about the effect tourism has here. Simple things that we wouldn’t think of. Because tourists have more money they are willing to pay more for things and it puts the economy out of joint. Take fish for example – because the tourists like to eat it the price has gone sky high and the locals can’t afford it any more. I always thought that eating locally caught fish was a way to help a local economy, but not here... But even with high prices, the fishermen still don’t make too much money and the tourists provide the market for them to get their daughters into prostitution. I’m told that a lot of the once fishermen have now got big houses as a result of their daughters profession. It’s obvious for all to see, yet more large Germans arrive today holding hands romantically with their small Filippino girlfriends.


They also tell me the problem with education – it used to be free but no longer. Few parents can afford to put their kids through anything but basic education and even more girls end up in prostitution or going abroad as domestic workers. The Philippine economy is also in a bad way – power and water are in short supply. Last week they started turning the power off for an hour every day, they think water might be next. It’s hard to see a way out of it all.


But White Sand Beach was beautiful, it was all that was advertised – it did what it said on the tin!

Pilates on the way to the big city (17 February 2010)

Today I decide to take a trip to the “city”, Moalboal. That’s what they call it here. The bit of Panagsama beach where I am is the village, the bit further along the beach where there are a couple more small hotels and the odd restaurant is called “downtown”. I was expecting a lot. But when I got there I realised that definitions of city are quite different here! Moalboal is tiny,

a one street town on the main road round the island. It’s still on the sea and there is a wharf area where the fishing boats come in. This also doubled as the meat market which I could smell and see but didn’t investigate too closely. One distant look at the slabs of meat out in the open heat being protected only by a white carrier bag attached to an old wire hanger attached to a slowly whirring fan was more than enough to keep me away... Apart from that there is a market, a municipal centre, a church and a school.

The market was mainly fruit and veg – and whilst small had the usual range of colourful wares, beautiful fruit, bright red chilles of every size, and was nice to walk around. The stalls outside the market looked very colourful too – the sachets of soap powder and shampoo (looks like they can’t afford full size product) festoon the outsides like bunting.

The church was interesting. It’s just the facade of a grand old white building – no idea what happened to the rest of it, perhaps one of their regular cyclones saw it off, with a new modern one storey church built next door. The school was there too with the students all dressed in red and white sailor suit uniforms – like all of these countries I have no idea how they keep the uniforms so white and bright with the limited facilities they have. I discovered that it’s hard to spend money here – a bottle of coke in the shops was 10p and apart from that there was little else to buy. I wasn’t in the market for pots and pans and there were no clothes stalls to be seen. The only one thing I wanted I couldn’t get – I was after mozzie spray but they only have lotion and in tiny bottles. And certainly no ATM. There were a few pawn shops and a couple of Western Union offices for sending and receiving money – not sure whether this area is a net sender of money due to the tourist economy or a net receiver from all those poor girls who end up working abroad as domestics in the Middle East...


The big thing around here is cockfighting, when I saw so many of them I just thought they were f******g big chickens everywhere, but couldn’t understand why they were tethered and each had their own little hut. I just thought they were being extra kind and protective of their animals – until today when we drove past the entrance to the Moalboal Cock Fighting Arena and I realised it was just the opposite.....

 But what of my Pilates? Moalboal is about 7kms away and too far to walk in this heat, so I take one of the local trikes – the motorbikes with the sidecars. They don’t feel too substantial and look like they’re made of metal no thicker than a coke can. What I hadn’t taken into account was the state of the roads – just bare coral with deep potholes and bumps everywhere. I clamber into the small space made for people much smaller than me and brace myself against the floor, the sides, anywhere I could get hold of something solid to stop being ejected. It was an effort to stay on board but perhaps I can look at it as a new way of Pilates – I certainly needed to exercise my core! I was thinking of taking a trip to White Sand Beach soon – but at about twenty minutes each way, I’m not sure I have the strength!

A basket case? (14 February 2010)

On Valentine’s Day I wandered about and came across Naomi’s Bottle Museum and book exchange, and having plenty of time for reading decided to investigate. I was alerted on the approach by the trees which were festooned with old bottles – and I don’t mean antique, just finished gin and whisky bottles. Each contained a small scroll and was fastened to the trees with a red cord. The garden was equally full of bottles planted in beds as if they were rows of flowers. I go in to find a dusty room full of piles of dusty books, old bottles, home made dolls, lines of poetry and little pink baskets. Loads of them, everywhere. The lady sitting there making the baskets looked quite normal and we got chatting. I assume this is Naomi, and she tells me that the man in the background using the ancient computer is her husband. She was born in Moalboal but worked in the “corporate world” (her words) for 30 years in hotel management and General Foods in communications. Her daughter is a law professor in the University in Cebu and as she is now settled she and her husband decided to come back to her home village. I ask her about the bottles and she tells me that they all contain scrolls with messages of love ...... and as it was Valentine’s Day she would present me with a scroll which I duly take, quickly pick a book then make my excuses and leave.

But today, having finished the book I take it back to exchange it. There is Naomi sitting patiently making up yet more of the tiny pink baskets. We have yet another very sensible conversation and she tells me all about the village, its 700 families, people she has met and so on. All very normal except she continues to weave her tiny pink baskets. She tells me that she “spreads happiness through baskets”. She then offers me one as another gift. On the way back I ponder – do all women who have worked many years in the “corporate world” eventually turn into basket cases – I leave it to you to decide......

Towels on the sunbed at dawn (11 - 13 February 2010)

It was a welcome relief to get to Marcosa’s Cottage Resort in the very small village of Panagsama, one of the 14 districts of the small town, Moalboal which is on the on the south west coast of Cebu island. It’s a tiny little resort strung out along the coast – I say coast rather than beach. I knew this before I came – there is not much beach here, but what there is is called Panagsama Beach. A cyclone took it away a few years back and the sand is only slowly returning. The seaside area is lined with the small resorts. It looks like this started off as a small fishing village and has grown up into more of a resort as the years have gone by. There are no big hotels here just small independent ones and I am staying at a rather nice one – made up, as the name would suggest, of a number of little detached cottages. It’s sparkly clean with a nice pool, aircon and within budget for a change at £23 a night. The streets are not tarmac, just bare coral with bits of sand and the walk through the village takes you past small mini market shops selling the usual water and toiletries together with a few clothes and t shirts. The t shirts look new but the clothes proudly displayed on the hangers have the look of things that tourists have left behind.... There are a few bars and restaurants as well as quite a few diving places which is what seems to drive the economy here and that’s about it. But a lot of these places are closed down, as everywhere, I think the tourist economy here struggles. The dive boats are rather odd looking catamarans that look like great white spiders out on the clear sea. It’s a long time since I’ve been as far away from an ATM, I think the nearest one is about 30 miles away! But it seems a peaceful place with the transport being the small brightly painted motorbike tuk tuks to take you out of the village, the people seem nice and apart from the odd little girl trying to sell you a necklace you are not hassled to buy anything at all. 

I wandered off the main seaside bit today to the houses behind the touristy bit. The houses are mainly very small thatch affairs each with a few straggly plants growing around, together with children and chickens, it looks like they just scrape a living. I’ve also been trying some of the local food – Bam –i and adobo but have so far resisted the dried fish with egg for breakfast!

Most of the other people staying here seem to be Germans – I haven’t heard one English voice yet, so obviously I will need to be up early to get that sunbed.......! And I think the taxi driver got it wrong when he said the Europeans come here for the warmth – four large older Germans arrived today with four young Philippine women in tow......

Another new pin - Cebu (11 February 2010)

After leaving Curacao on 8 February at 6.30 am I finally arrive in Moalboal in Cebu in the Philippines on 11th February at 3pm – bit of an epic journey, but the Cathay flights make the second half and longest half very easy. Can highly recommend! I decided to bypass Manilla, the capital, as it has a really bad reputation both for crime and terrorism and fly straight here. We saw enough guns in Central America to do me for some time....

Cebu is one of the larger Philippine islands and its main economy is based on tourism and furniture.... not sure why - unless the hotel I am in doesn't use the best available!  (see pic)On the way from the airport to Moalboal where I am staying, we skirt Cebu city (I will visit it later on) and it looks at first sight more third world than I had imagined. But we are travelling through the dock area so that may have something to do with it. Shanties are piled up around the place and the dusty streets are lined with small dark workshops. Cockfights take place on the pavements. The jeepney’s that I had expected (old US jeeps tarted up and highly decorated) were nowhere to be seen, instead they seem to have morphed into a second generation version which are larger open sided vans, but still highly coloured and decorated in various ways, most of them imploring God, Jesus or Mary for a safe journey – they may be better off looking towards their driving style.... There are also multitudes of the Philippine tuk tuk, motorbikes with a sidecar stuck on the side and again highly decorated but all seeming to sport tens of big yellow lights.. The journey was about 2 ½ hours and I had wimped out and ordered a taxi to bring me here, looking at the bus driving I was glad!


Once out of the city area, across lots of flat reclaimed land that will be developed as and when the economic situation improves, we slowly make our way across the hills. Lots of the road is in bad repair following numerous landslides, and the hills in many places bare of any trees gives a clue why. Along the way we pass through a great market held every Thursday selling livestock, vegetables and all manner of machinery. It’s held weekly and is all the local mountain villages who come for the weekly trade. But this impedes our progress more as we get stuck behind large open top trucks laden with people, baskets and cows. Luckily my cab driver takes a safer way of overtaking than the buses who pull out regardless of what is on the other side of the road....


The taxi driver is a nice man and we stop for a cold drink on the way. The stop is in a shoe making area and along with the coke and ice cream stalls are rows and rows of shoe stalls. A big display of a huge shoe greets us as we drive in – it was submitted to the Guinness book of records as the largest shoe in the world, but they turned it down as it wasn’t a pair....


The driver also gave me an insight into some of the culture. I commented on the number of schools we passed – the whole route seemed to be schools and churches – and he was telling me how important he feels education is. Especially for girls as they want to learn to be nurses so they can work abroad. Also so they can marry a foreigner.... According to him there are five girls for every boy here (not a statistic I think can be right) but it means they have to look elsewhere for marriage partners. He also gave me an insight into tourism, the Europeans, he said, come here for the warm weather, the Americans come here for “matrimony”....

Inadvertent flashpacking in la la land (8 February 2010)

How come, when I should be snuggled up on a Cathay Pacific flight to Hong Kong, I am instead waking up in a “Third generation Heavenly Bed” in the Westin, Los Angeles? All to do with flight delays due to a technical problem yesterday meaning I am now on the flight to Hong Kong 24 hours later. Fine except here I am in the most stylish of cities with no clothes apart from what I am wearing and the meagre contents of my carry on bags - which as you know in today’s airline climate is not a lot! My bag is somewhere in the system unable to be retrieved. Not sure Posh would be in this city of stars in a pair of cargo pants and a hoodie...

No longer curious about Curacao (1 - 7 February 2010)

So my Caribbean time comes to an end as I finish my week in Curacao before I leave the West for the mysterious East. I have enjoyed it but not sure I would rush back. It’s a beautiful place, with clear turquoise seas and small beaches dotted around. The people seem to be friendly and nice and there is certainly no feeling of threat that you can find sometimes in other Caribbean Islands – but perhaps this is the problem – it seems to have much less character about it. As far as I can tell all the hotels seem to be Hilton like – I have seen no signs of any small communities or areas outside the capital where you can find restaurants. You end up a bit of a hostage to fortune (and the interminable buffets of “international fare”) as there is no obvious local transport and the hotels are a bit isolated. But don’t get me wrong, it’s a great place to be if you want the beach life, and the Hilton is a comfortable place in a great setting with beaches and pools galore – I’m glad I came and it gave me the excuse (as if I need one!) just to enjoy the beautiful sunsets and veg out for the week.

But there were some “lounge lizards” about – no, not lounging around the casino that’s attached to the hotel (even with my free gambling tickets, I chose not to try it out......), but frightening the life out of me at the pool and beach bar and restaurant. Now I’m a seasoned traveller and even though I’m not keen on local wildlife, I have got used to gecko’s and small lizards. As you walk down the paths to the various beaches, lots of small lizards dart about – how sweet, I thought! But nothing quite prepared me for the huge pair of lizards that have made their home by the pool bar. Sitting quietly with my grouper and chips I was startled to see the man and wife pair wandering about. She of course was quite plain and he was the peacock of the duo flashing his frilled neck..... I hope you like the National Geographic pictures I took! I do think the one of the lizard looking over into the pool looks just like the Dyl when he is being curious too....

I am sitting in the lounge at Miami Airport for several hours waiting for connecting flights that don’t quite connect and have just spotted Denziel Washington – I wonder if he wants to play Ant in the Hollywood film version of this blog - Julia Roberts plays me by the way.... The airport is busy today – it was the Superbowl last night and it was played here in Miami – so that’s why the Superbowl stalls selling merchandise at the airport were so busy today. I must say, I got an “old fashioned look” when talking to some people in the lounge and I asked where the Superbowl took place.... they couldn’t understand quite how I wasn’t aware! There are quite a few “saddo’s “ wandering around all togged up in the team outfits – but I guess it’s no different to the FA Cup final – I don’t understand all that either! But hey ho – they are no good on our geography either. Was talking to another lady who lives in New York – she has relations in London that she has visited lots. When I asked where in London they lived, she said “Nottingham”! They sure must think London’s a hell of a big place.


It’s funny being here – again! Am sitting where Ant and I sat all those weeks ago – ten I think, just before we boarded our flight to Guatemala – how nice it would be if we could go back in time and do it all over again....

Tulips in old Amsterdam.... (Wednesday 3 February 2010)

...or at least that was what I felt like singing today as I went into the capital, Willemstad. On the surface it is a picture perfect small Dutch town, with all the signs in Dutch and tall blonde people everywhere. It’s the Caribbean but not as I know it as to date I have (except for Margarita not too far away on another Hilton freebie) only visited islands with an old British connection. On the surface the Dutch seem to have made a better job of it than we did with a better infrastructure and water out of the taps distilled from seawater that you can actually drink. They are so civilised that I even managed to find the Dutch version of liquorice allsorts “Engelse Dops” and very nice they are too!

The town, a UNESCO World Heritage site is situated on an inlet and separated like Buda and Pest by the water into Punda and Otrobanda... The hotel collectivo – sorry, I mean minibus, drops you off on the Otrobanda side. To cross over they have a rather alarming looking “floating bridge” which is moved (dragged by a tug boat) out of the way when the large container ships go into the port. A huge container ship pulled by tugs went though as I was there and it made the beautiful coloured Dutch architecture look like toytown. But today the water was really rough so not sure it would have been walkable anyway. So I take the alternative, the short free ferry trip. Now I don’t know what it is about me and boats but it seems every time I go near one it’s rough water – no change today then. But it did give me the excuse to have a glass of wine for “Dutch” courage for the way back – oh dear, my puns get worse...

The houses are all painted in pretty pastel colours, a hangover from one man in charge who said that the glare of white houses gave him headaches and banned them – the tradition stuck and they do look very nice. But behind the Dutch facade is a thriving muticultural island of which they are justifiably proud. Apparently a lot of the 50 or so nationalities that settled here came because of the religious freedom it offered – well the Dutch do have a reputation for being liberal, free and easy.... The cultural mix is evident in the shops, Spanish, Indian, Chinese and even Fatima’s Fashions selling Arabian garments and hookahs (and by this I mean the pipes that you smoke rather than the women who sit in windows in the real Amsterdam...). But the shops and streets behind the Dutch frontage are less pretty. There are a couple of streets with the usual Watches of Switzerland and Tommy Hilfiger type shops to service the duty free needs of the cruise ships that visit here regularly. The one called Little Holland selling clogs and Delft ware confused me somewhat as most of the tourists who come here are from Holland, but the rest look like a smaller version of 

Folkestone! The currency here, apart of course from the US dollar which is accepted here, is the NAF – the Netherland Antilles Florin. But when you see the price tickets attached to the local fashion in NAF’s it seems strangely appropriate! I did make one purchase however, Ant was telling me to buy a long cotton dress for those tropical evenings so I did – but I think I can hear him pressing the mutton button from here!

It's all double dutch to me.... (1 - 2 February 2010)

Or should that be quadruple dutch? I arrive in Curacao to find my language skills challenged. It is part of the Netherlands Antilles here and the Papiamentu language (an eclectic mix of loads of other languages) is common, with Dutch as the official language, then Spanish, then English. Talking of language the Americans have one all of their own. Flying into Miami we were told they were having a “rain event” - all that meant is that it was p***ing down – all day – I was at the airport for four hours and it pelted down non stop – now if that had been Heathrow there would have been delays all over the place. But it was an interesting journey as it took me two flights via Miami of almost three hours each to travel from Grenada to here – and they less than 500 miles apart. But that was one reason for coming here – the ticket allowed it, and that together with it being a shiny new pin for me and there was a Hilton where I could use up the last of my Hilton points for a free luxe week made it an easy decision! Oh and of course the fact that they produce that bright blue liqueur, Curacao so the cocktails should be good... The flight was made even longer by a rather alarming “go around” just as we were coming in to land – the pilot told us later that there was a small plane identified on the runway so we had to accelerate back up rather quickly... But I made it.
Curacao looks a little different to the other islands I have visited. It’s much further south just off the coast of Venezuela and below the hurricane belt. It gets much less rain than further north in the Caribbean so it looks much less lush and has quite a few rocky, sparsely wooded outcrops that almost look like a Greek island in places.

But the hotel is lovely – the grounds are enormous and there are beaches everywhere, three nice pools and lots of palm trees and little thatched sun umbrellas. It’s even got its own bit of old fort with cannons – useful if too many Americans want to come in. The menu though does feature rather a lot of odd Dutch food except of course for the ubiquitous Caribbean theme nights complete with steel bands or the seafood on the beach night complete with the cultural show. I have managed to avoid these.... so far. All the usual fripperies that go with a Hilton too, things I would have given a lot for in Guatemala, sea view, loads of smellies in the bathroom, turndown with chocs on the pillow and even hot water in the shower! The downside is that as I sit outside on my balcony writing this the strains of the hotel trio playing at dinner waft up – but I suppose you can’t have everything! But it’s windy – locals think this is great as it dilutes the effect of the strong sun but sitting on the exposed beach this morning ended up with me looking like a sand statue as the flying sand particles stuck to the suncream – I repaired to the pool where it is much more sheltered – now if only those kids would stick to the kids pool a hundred metres away where they should, it would be perfect.... ok call me a grumpy old woman!

Heaven, I'm in heaven..... (30 January 2010)

It’s a Sat night in here in Grenada and am happy. One of Ant and my many food fantasies over the last couple of months (and there have been many as we faced yet another plate of mashed beans.....) has been Liquorice Allsorts. It was a happy day in the Spiceland Mall supermarket on Saturday when I spotted a rather dusty pack hanging from the empty shelves (shelves are empty here for a while prior to the introduction of VAT which is happening on 1st Feb – the shelves are stripped bare as if a hurricane was approaching and are not being restocked....). So I grabbed the bag before anyone else and settled down for a night in front of the telly. I caught up through the miracle of Slingbox with the four episodes of the X Factor which happened after I had left. I had managed to avoid hearing the result so far so this Sat saw me happily watching Joe win, munching liquorice allsorts and washing them all down with a local rum punch. Perfect!
Now I can look forward to another tropical night where I can catch up with “Strictly” – just hope I can find licorice allsorts wherever that may be.....

Antless in Grenada (26 - 31 January 2010)

A sad farewell this morning as I leave Ant at the Miami hotel to go to the Airport – he to go home later (after shopping.....) and me off on my solo travels. I had to take a flight to Antigua to pick up a BA flight to get to Grenada. Long story short, the immigration procedures took so long, even though I was just in transit, that they were calling my name urgently – I had to be escorted through security and then bundled into a golf cart for my solo trip across the tarmac. I felt like a celeb and I guess not too many people get an almost full British Airways 777 held up for them to waft into their 1D seat.....

Grenada seems a sleepy but relaxed place and Grand Anse beach, said to be the best on the island, is just a few minutes’ walk from the Siesta Hotel where I am staying. It’s a nice little hotel with a pool and the rooms set up the hillside with a view of the sea in the distance. A few walks along the beach which is a crescent of pale sand and blue sea about three miles long with St George’s at the far end. But the beach seems really empty – this should be the high season here but it seems they are suffering from the lack of tourists too.

St Georges’, the capital, is a charming ramshackle and workaday place built on the steep hillsides that rise up from the series of deep blue safe harbours. Pastel coloured houses sit higgledepiggledy on the slopes and make a nice picture. The harbours are deep enough to take the huge cruise ships that dock here regularly sometimes five at a time disgorging up to 12000 passengers - no idea where they all fit – the day I was there the narrow streets were clogged with traffic and stalls and markets and people and there wasn’t a cruise ship to be seen.

But when they are in and you see them from the beach as you look towards St George’s they make the small town look like Legoland, It’s Independence Day here next week so the whole town is festooned with flags and bunting in red, yellow and green, the national flag colours and looks really “en fete”. There was also a selection of all sorts of clothes in the same bright colours but I felt that that may be taking nationalism a step too far, and they never were my colours anyway!

I have met some great people here, Liz and Gary who run a grass (just to be clear that's grass for horse feeding and bedding, not ganja that you get offered here....!) business near Stratford. They were taking part in the prestigious SIBT Billfishing tournament here and Liz, even though a first timer, managed to carry off the first prize for best lady angler. And Sue and Taffy who run the hotel restaurant, “Taffy’s”. They run it together with their 16 year old locally adopted son Leslie, who they adopted when he was four years old. He is now a grown up lad of 16. It’s good to meet people who do such good things and really interesting to hear about hurricane Ivan in 2004 which left 90% of the island’s houses in a shambles and devastated the nutmeg and spice business. If you’re reading this Leslie, good luck with the Royal Navy application. We all spent a few evenings together over beers and rum punches and the excellent food that came out of Taffy’s kitchen. If you’re in Grenada, it’s worth a visit!

There’s money here – the billfish tournament has brought flash fishing boats in from all over the world, and sitting on the harbour yesterday I saw even more flash yachts arriving for the regatta that’s due to start here soon. As a person who’s not that keen on boats, perhaps I am in the wrong place!

I haven’t quite yet managed to get away from the collectivo’s that we used all over the place in central America. The same system works here and for about 50p you can get most places on the island – the only thing different is that the door boy is shouting “St Georges” rather than “Dulce”. Oh and they can’t quite pack as many people in here although they try! The average Grenadian is obviously much better fed – each one is probably equivalent to two of the little Guatemalan’s on the collectivo’s there!

But apart from the collectivo’s, Grenada is all very familiar – solid British plugs and sockets that don’t spark alarmingly when you put them in the wall and of course Liz on the banknotes and coins. And driving on the right, i.e. the correct, i.e. the left side of the road! But it does have a very un UK laid back vibe – the most alarming of which is the driving – and the fact that there are no drink driving laws so to go out at night (which I don’t) you need to take great care on the narrow strips of “pavement” on the roads.....

The Central America "Hot and Cold" List (December 2009 - January 2010)

OK it doesn’t have quite the same cachet as the Conde Nast Hotlist, but you never know it could just start a trend! Here are some of our top and bottom picks from our Central America travels:


Favourite country ranking


Guatemala

Belize
Mexico
US



Cheapest hotels


Paraiso Tropical – Rio Dulce

Finca Ixobel – Poptun
Casa de Don David – El Remate






Best Festivals


Local Saint - San Juan de Chamula

Black Christ Festival – Flores

Diablo Festival – Antigua de Guatemala

San Thomas – Chichicastanengo






Best Meals


Hannah’s – San Ignacio
Rose y Chocolate – Merida
9 One 5 – Key West
Fran’s Beach – Caye Caulker

Syd’s – Caye Caulker






Worst meals


Gill – queso releno – Piste (perhaps it would have tasted better if I was...)

Ant – Havana Cafe Merida, Xmas night






Worst Pizza’s (and we did eat quite a few...)


Greedy Too’s – San Ignacio

Panajachel Pizza’s






Worst bathrooms


Finca Ixobel, Poptun (probably the bare electric wires coming out of the shower rose that swung this one...)
Gite del Sol, San Cristobal de Las Casas
Belcove Hotel, Belize






Best Place to stay – a hard one, we stayed in so many unusual places!


Gill – Hotel de la Luz – Merida – quirky and a good bathroom!

Ant – Casa del Mundo, Lake Aititlan, purely for the spectacular setting






Best days – another tough one, every day was fab!


Ant – ATM cave, Tikal, Agua Caliente, day with Juni and the rays

Gill – Day on Lake Aititlan, Tikal, Chichicastanengo






Best Journeys


Rio Dulce to Livingston – an amazing river trip
Panajachel to San Cristobal de Las Casa’s – across the border through a mad market with our backpacks and a really long journey in two minibuses – but fun!
Belize City to Caye Caulker – riding the waves in a fast, open, motorboat clutching our lifejackets
Chetumal to Belize City – crossing yet another land border and then roaring along country roads in the pitch dark on a dubious bus
Antigua to Chichicastanengo to Panajachel - for the spectacular scenery along winding hillside roads


And Ant’s favourite, the overnight bumpy bus ride from Palenque to Merida that he slept through completely!






And the best traveller’s tip of all – make sure you take lots of “Icebreaker” clothes, pure merino wool, they keep you warm, they keep you cool and all you need to do to “launder “ them is to let them freshen up on a hanger overnight!