Jaye Rothman's Blog

Leaving Athens in 12 degrees at midday on Saturday and arriving in 30 degrees at 6am on Sunday without jetlag would be a challenge. Unlike my fellow passengers who slept throughout the flight I read three books in 12 hours. I allowed myself 4 hours sleep before I ventured out into 80% humidity, but I live in Auckland and it shouldn’t be that difficult to adjust right? Wrong, it nearly killed me for two days.

My hotel is situated in the old part of Singapore near Little India and has a colonial vibe about it. Little India by the way, isn’t like India. It’s a Singaporean version which is clean, orderly and tidy. I took the MRT (underground train) to Bayfront which didn’t exist last time I was here.

Transportation is cheap, its only 77 cents for a one way trip, and the trains arrive every few minutes and are spotlessly clean. Waiting on the platforms passengers are told eg. “Too many people are waiting on the first half of the platform. Please move down to the end.” Posters and announcements in Chinese and English remind people to give up their seats, not to lean on doors, not drop litter, not to trip while alighting and not to loiter at stations otherwise they will be reported. A train arrives at the station and the closed doors from the platform to the train open, and you hop on. A few minutes later the train arrives at the station. Last night while waiting for a train, a graphic video played explaining what action passengers should take in a terrorist attack.

I went to the Botanical Gardens primarily to see the Orchids. The plants and the trees are pruned extensively and the lawns are probably cut every other day. Of course, there is no litter, cigarette butts and employees wander around smiling enquiring if they can assist you. Were the orchids stunning? Absolutely, and beautiful kept, definitely a must see if you visit Singapore. I took a taxi back to my hotel as I was exhausted. The taxi driver chatted throughout the 20-minute ride which cost a mere 10 dollars.

Taxi Driver. “New Zealand is a stupid country.”

Me. “Why do you say that?”

Taxi Driver. “Because you are selling your farms and land to the Chinese. No country does this.”

Me. (Hopefully). “Perhaps things will change as we have a new Government.”

This was not the only time I’ve been challenged about NZ’s policy in selling chunks of land to foreign investors. I enquired about the lack of police on the streets. “We don’t need them patrolling. We are an orderly country and have very little crime. Most of the population work and you will see no homelessness or begging on the streets here, but on the downside, we are not a democracy.”

Well, I guess you can’t have everything. I did visit Burgis Junction on a shopping exhibition which isn’t like the numerous huge malls which are packed with designer labels. The driver was correct, I didn’t see any begging, pushing, shoving, swearing and or other anti-social behaviour, and if someone accidentally bumped into me they apologised.

Raffles Hotel the icon of Singapore is closed albeit temporarily until the middle of the year. Fifteen years ago, I visited and had a drink in the bar, now it’s being extensively refurbished and it’s no longer near the sea. Yes, it’s still situated on Beach Road but the land has been reclaimed and the docks seem much further way from where they used to be located.

One of the popular places to visit are the Gardens in the Bay which is a nature park and spans over 250 acres of reclaimed land. In the heart of the gardens there are two massive domed conservatories which are environmentally sustainable.

These house the Cloud Forest and Flower gardens. I bought tickets for both, but I wouldn’t recommend the Flower Dome if you live down under. Most of the plants on display eg. dahlias and flowers in the Australian gardens we have in NZ. The Cloud was incredible, and replicates the cool moist conditions found in a tropical mountain rainforest. A lift takes you up, and you descend down a path, past a fantastic waterfall. Talking of water, the heat builds during the day and usually about 4pm the thunderstorms begin with torrential rain. Umbrellas have two uses here, to protect you from the sun and the rain which soaks you in less than thirty seconds.

I planned to go on the Cable Car tomorrow, but after feeling dizzy and sick on the Supertree Grove I have decided to can it. This is a very high elevated walkway between two enormous trees and the views across Singapore are amazing. Unfortunately, I had to go down after five minutes when the walkway began to sway in the wind. Now I’ll have to come up with another idea as I planned to use the cable car in one of my books.

On Friday I leave for home. My adventure is over. How do I feel? Relieved that’s for sure. I’ve actually done it!! Sometimes I can’t believe I have. I’ll write my last blog from home, New Zealand.

Best wishes.

I hadn’t expected to like Athens, yet I’m having a great time. I’d read it was dirty, dangerous to walk at night and polluted. Yes, some of the pavements are broken and you have to watch your step, but it’s a great city to explore. There’s so much to see, and I haven’t felt unsafe.

I went to the Temple of Zeus on my first day. It took me about ten minutes’ walk from my hotel. To avoid the traffic fumes, I cut through the Botanical Gardens and to my delight I saw oranges and mandarins growing on trees again. I haven’t seen this for nearly a year.

The temple built in 6BC has only 12 columns standing. You can see the ornate decoration on the tops of the pillars and additional chunks of stone are strewn around the site. Visiting monuments in Athens is cheap, a combined ticket which gives you admittance to 7 sites and lasts for 5 days costs 30 Euro.

Visiting the Acropolis Museum is a must and it’s a good idea to go there before you head up to the Acropolis. Not surprisingly it’s the number one attraction on Trip Advisor. The museum was opened to the public in 2009, and it’s a light bright state of the art building over 3 floors. It was primarily built for the purpose to try and persuade the British to return the Elgin marbles. For years the British Museum and the British Government had refused because Athens didn’t have a suitable location where they could be displayed. Hence the new museum.

I must admit I didn’t actually know what the Elgin Marbles were until recently. The Marbles are a collection of sculptures and objects acquired by Lord Elgin from the Parthenon between 1801 and 1805. Lord Elgin was a Scottish nobleman and a diplomat who served as an ambassador to the Ottoman Empire. Elgin used his influence with the Sultan to gain access to sketch ancient works of art.  The Sultan granted a firman to Lord Elgin, which gave him the authorisation to take casts of the sculptures but also to remove pieces of them. Lord Elgin wasted no time and dismantled a large part of the frieze from the Parthenon. The collection was transported back to England and Elgin sold the Marbles in 1816 for 35,000 pounds to the British Museum. Since then controversy surrounds the Marbles, with many believing the Marbles should be returned to their place of origin. However, it doesn’t look as though the British have any intention of handing them back anytime soon.

Today I walked up to the top of the Acropolis and it nearly killed my back! The paths which take you to the summit are treacherous. Slabs of slippery marble, unstable grit and large stones hindered my progress as I gingerly walked upwards. Winter is a great time to visit, and avoid masses of tourists plus the heat in summer can be cruel. I encountered Russians who despite being warned by the guides not to hang backwards off a rock at the summit continued to do so. There’s good printed information in Greek and English but no audio guides.

I took a marble seat in the Theatre of Dionysus at the foot of the Acropolis and imagined myself sitting watching a play about a goddess in 6BC! Onto the Odeion of Herodes Atticus named after a wealthy citizen who gifted this huge theatre to Athens which could seat 6,000 people. It’s quite well preserved considering most of the other monuments on the Acropolis have fallen victim to the weather, man and wars.

Back onto the path and I finally reached the marble steps to take me up to the top of the Acropolis. The wind howled and it was bone chilling cold. Some of the temples remain but they are cordoned off. Some of the columns of the Parthenon still stand, and I could make out the features from one or two sculptures which Lord Elgin had left behind. The goddess Athena’s (who gave her name to the city) statue would have stood at 39 feet high and dominated the space. Yes, I have bought a reproduction statue to take home! Sculptures of six girls support a porch of another temple, and the temple of Nike stands, but for how long?

I bought a book which has overlays of what the buildings might have looked like in 6BC with an accompanying CD.  I’d love to do some time traveling and visit Athens in her prime as I’m fascinated with the number of goddess the Greeks had.

On Saturday I leave for Singapore. The last stop on my journey homewards and I’m feeling ok about that.

What did I expect? That I would find it unchanged and exactly as I left it. Unfortunately, London has become significantly more crowded and expensive since my last visit 10 years ago.

I stayed in a hotel in Earls Court which is served by the Piccadilly and District lines. It takes less than 15 minutes to travel into the West End and the wonderful free museums of Exhibition Road are less than 5 minutes away at South Kensington.

In another few weeks I will have finished my epic year. I suddenly realised I hadn’t visited any of the London locations which I need for the beginning of every book. MI6’s old office was located in Broadway near St James Park which meant I had to visit the area and walk routes. What I did notice for the better was the lack of traffic in central London, a congestion charge applies to all vehicles and this has made the West End less polluted. It failed to help my asthma which I’ve struggled with asthma due to the cold and the damp.

Before I shifted to NZ I lived in London for over 20 years but I couldn’t remember how to get to places without trusty Google Maps. As for the South Bank, I might as well as been in a different city as I didn’t recognise it. I took a trip on the water bus and passed the London Eye. These days regular water buses use the River Thames to ferry commuters.

Onto Fitzroy Square which must be one of the most elegant Regency squares in London. It’s a stone throw from the West End, and I’m using literary licence and this square will serve as Sinclair’s London office in the later books.

I paid a brief visit to the National Portrait Gallery for afternoon tea and viewed the Tudor portraits. An idea sprung to mind, I think Sinclair will meet an asset under the portrait of Elizabeth I.

Onto the London Oratory consecrated in 1884 is a huge Catholic church near the Victoria and Albert Museum. It was rumoured in the Cold War KGB spies would meet their assets in the Oratory. It’s very dark, with dimly lit chapels on both signs of the nave. A perfect setting for spies, and I had an idea for a short story which will showcase the London of the 1970’s.

The next morning, I visited embassies. The old German Democratic Republic in Belgrave Square seems to have fallen into disrepair. Onto the Russian and Israeli embassy where are located in a road next to Kensington Gardens. The Russian Embassy is massive and the fences and buildings are heavily adorned with CTV cameras. A heavy Police presence outside keeps an eye on protestors. I decided not to risk taking photos of the front, but managed to snatch a couple from the side. When I attempted to take photos of the Israeli embassy, a Policemen shouted at me and I had to beat a hasty retreat.

My final afternoon was spent in the National Gallery. A free audio guide is provided. I spent a couple of hours viewing the Impressionists with the hoards of tourists who appeared more interested in taking selfies than actually viewing the paintings.

In the morning I queued at the door of the Victoria and Albert Museum. I could barely recognise it. I must have visited it 30 years ago when today’s bright red brick was thick with grime and pollution. I paid to see the exhibition Winnie -the -Pooh and viewed the original illustrations by E.H. Shepard. The V and A is vast comprising of six floors, and has an amazing army of volunteers who are available to escort visitors to exhibits. One took me through a maze of corridors and stairs to see “The Three Graces.”

My time in London had come to an end. And my time in England is drawing rapidly to a close. I’ve had an awesome time seeing old friends and family again. The goodbyes are hard. Will I return? I don’t know. I hope so, but it depends on my health and finances. Perhaps Nikki Sinclair will make me a best-selling author. Who knows?

I can only echo my cousin’s words when she said, “Nikki Sinclair saved you.”

I wish you a Happy, successful and most of all healthy 2018. Next time Athens!

Greetings from Brighton. I’m staying with my brother and family over the Xmas holiday, but off to visit friends in London and Essex for the New Year.

Compared to our laid back Kiwi Christmas, here it’s full on. Every tv programme and advert is geared to the big day. In the shops, its mayhem as people rush around buying last minute items. When I lived in the UK it was busy, but nothing compared to what I’m experiencing this time.

The weather doesn’t feel much like Christmas with an abundance of grey skies and drizzle. I wonder how people cope when it’s over and they head back to work. January and February here are horrible, I remember the cold and standing for buses, or sitting in stationary traffic.

My time in the UK is drawing to an end. I’ve had an awesome time meeting up with old friends and seeing family but I’ve begun to long for the sun and NZ! I would never have said this 11 months ago when I left!

Yesterday I watched a programme on tv called ‘Naked Attraction’. I like to think nothing shocks me, well this did! The presenter is the only person who remains clothed throughout the show. It begins with six men/women in clear boxes hidden by a screen which as it rises exposes their bodies from the feet up. Yes, everyone of the contestants is completely naked. The object of the show is for a man or a woman (clothed) to pick a partner. The participants are quizzed about their bodies what they like or don’t. There are close ups and I mean close ups of male and female genitals and breasts. The screen gradually rises during the programme to expose more flesh. The contestant’s get eliminated because their breasts aren’t pert, or they don’t have a muscled torso. At the end of this horrible show the winner goes out on a clothed date with the person who chose them.

I watched the reactions of a couple of women who were eliminated. One was very close to tears as this guy made unkind and cutting remarks about her body. Why would anyone go on this show? Imagine walking down the street and being recognised afterwards? I hope it never, never sees the light of day in New Zealand.

On a more positive note, my grateful thanks to everyone who has read my newsletter, emailed, texted or message me over the last year. When I’d hit a rough patch, I’d read them again and they’d inspire me to keep going.

As for my writing, I haven’t exactly been prolific only writing two short stories, but I have regained my inspiration and enjoyment of life. I have the plots and ideas for an amazing 18 books!

Best wishes for an excellent, successful and most importantly healthy New Year.

Jaye

The newsletter will return in the middle of January.

Prague has changed, it’s no longer the quiet city I remember. Then as now, it was bitterly cold but it didn’t seem to matter as we explored the city. We had each other and we were in love. We battled the blustery wind as we crossed the Charles Bridge admiring theblackened 17th and 18th century statues of the saints, who sit on the balustrade guarding the bridge.

Fast forward 30 years, and the saints still sit there.Thirty in all, but this timeI’m here alone. Not by choice but by circumstance and it saddens me. I’ve watched couples holding onto each other as they wander the streets of the Old Town. I’ve seen couples holding hands over a table in a café. I’ve heard laughter from couples as I’ve passed by. In case you have doubts, this is not a city to visit if you’re single around Christmas time, plus it’s freezing cold.

The Old Town square at 10am was jammed packed with tourists, locals, stalls, Xmas trees and a heavy police presence. For my book ‘Your Game’ Nikki Sinclair is followed by Czech secret police through the Square. I needed to see the buildings and look at the famous astronomical clock. I vaguely recall watching it all those years ago with ten people. Today I probablywatched it with a thousand strike the hour. 

I hopped on a tram and headed to the Hotel International. Previously in Communism times it was named Hotel Druzba (friendship). This word had various meanings in different Eastern Bloc countries. It’s the only surviving Stalinist building in Prague. When I saw the photo, it reminded me of the Palace of Culture and Science in Warsaw so I had to see it. It’s outside the main centre, by the side of a four-line boulevard and it’s impressive. It stands 88 metres high, with two large wings on either side of the main building. A black marble staircase leads to the first floor. Here were paintings depicting Czech citizens enjoying an idealised life, eg. Smiling as they are digging, carrying a heavy load, dancing with white doves flying in the sky (very Soviet). The guests from Eastern Bloc countries would have enjoyed the splendour while across the square citizens were living in ‘panelaks’. These were pre-fab homes cheaply constructed of concrete usually around ten to thirteen stories high. These pre-fabs are common in all the old Eastern Bloc countries.

I needed a residential location for my book ‘Your Game.’ I checked out an area called Ujezd on Google maps, but I couldn’t find any information about it on Google. The streets and buildings remind me of Budapest but with a softer edge and it’s next to the Vistula river. Renovation is the name of the game in this neighbourhood as it’s in a terrific location.  My mouth dropped open as I walked with my head up gazing at the incredible statues, frescos, paintings on the roofs, sides and fronts of the buildings. According to a café owner, tourists don’t often visit Ujezdwhich is probably good, otherwise it will lose its charm.

Tripadvisor reviewers gave the Museum of Communism four stars and I thought twice about going, but so pleased I did. The small museum takes about two hours to visit. It charts the rise of Communism, the Prague Spring to the Velvet revolution from an ordinary person’s (citizen’s) point of view. The economy was centred on mining and heavy industry. Life centred around meeting Five Year Plans and quotas. Coal surface mining caused huge areas of fertile fields to become like a moonscape landscape. Power plants powered by coal created acid rain killing forests. Rivers became heavily polluted because heavy fertilisers and liquid manure were pumped onto the soil.

Did you hear of two ‘accidents’ at the Bohunice Nuclear Power Plant in 1975 and 1977? No, I hadn’t either. Thesedisasters had the potential to rival Chernobyl but the Communist Government concealed them from their own population and the West.

My visit to Prague concludes my six month European adventure. Have I enjoyed it? Yes. I’ve loved the history, culture, museums, the cities I’ve visited and the people I’ve met.

Would I do it again? No, and NOT even with a friend. Most of the time it’s been enjoyable and interesting.  I’ve coped with challengingsituations in different countries alone and lived to tell the tale!

More next time from Bristol and Bath!

I decided to walk the Wall. How could I not? When I’ve spent nearly three months here. I’d read an article about an exhibition of Ghost stations in the Cold War which is located in the U-Bahn station called Nordbahnhof. Before 1989 when the Wall came down this was a heavily guarded place because it had a border exit to West Berlin. How anyone could escape from here, I don’t know, as a fugitive would need to break through 6 concrete walls and a steel gate before they were in the West.

Before 1961 if you lived in the East of the city, it was relatively easy to cross to the Western side of Berlin. Between 1948 and 1961 3.5 million East Germans elected to live in the West. The GDR was haemorrhaging skilled citizens who they needed to help rebuild the country.

During the days after the ceasefire of WWII, the Soviets stripped East Germany of equipment, machinery, even railway lines. This was in reparation of the enormous loss the Soviets had suffered.

Walter Ulbricht, the First Secretary of the GDR was a fanatical Communist. He had spent the war years in Moscow and followed Stalin’s guidelines to the letter. In 1961 Khrushchev was the Soviet Prime Minister, he demanded that Ulbricht stop the immigration. Khrushchev’s primary concern was that if the GDR collapsed it would present a danger to the satellite states of the USSR, and ultimately to Russia.

Who knows if Khrushchev approved of the Wall? Ulbricht went ahead, and on 13 August 1961, the Combat Groups of the Working Class began to close the border by tearing up the streets running alongside it. They installed barbed wire and fences along the 156 km which bordered the western zones.

The Wall construction began on 17 August. The GDR called it “The Anti-Fascist Protective Rampart’ and explained to its citizens it was to keep the capitalist Westerns out. Stations which were near or on the border were bricked up. As a West Berliner, you could travel by train underneath East Berlin. I met a guy who remembered what it was like. If you looked out of the train windows, as the train slowed down. The lights would dim. You could see soldiers with guns, and guards with dogs patrolling the platform. Before the trains entered East Berlin, an announcement would be made. “Last station in West Berlin.”

West Berliners could cross East Berlin underground using three train lines which were off limits to people who lived in the East. The GDR officials erased stations from maps, removed signs and had the entrances bricked up and padlocked. Hoping citizens would forget they existed.

Potsdam Platz is now pulsating with traffic and people. S and U Bahn routes connect there. Rewind to 1988 and you’d find a different story. The Wall went down the middle of it, all the entrances to the stations were boarded up, weeds grew between the cracks in the pavements. If you looked up you’d see watchtowers with guards carrying submachines.

Bernauer Strasse runs alongside the Wall. Residents woke up to find the windows and doors to their homes bricked up because neighbours had already fled. An 84-year-old woman jumped out of a window to her death, because she wanted to join her daughter in the West.

I had thought there were only 2 walls, but in fact, there are 3. I paced out the measurements. It’s 70 feet from the middle wall to the inner wall. If you managed to make it over without being shot, you had another 120 feet which comprised of anti-vehicle trenches, metal spikes, dogs and barbed wire to reach the outer wall.

Over 130 people died while trying to escape, but over 5,000 people attempted it. They were caught and received harsh prison sentences. I can’t imagine what it must have felt living in East Berlin with freedom lying 200 feet away and knowing you can’t leave.

I’ve decided to write a book set in East Berlin in 1974 and the Wall is the anti-protagonist.

Have you heard of Marzahn? Neither had I. During a conversation with a waitress she suggested I go and take a look. 40 minutes later by tram, I arrived to find a gigantic housing complex. Before 1976 it was farm land, but the GDR decided to solve the housing crisis and commissioned massive blocks of apartments. Looking at the map I found the Allee of the Kosmonaut. I had to go there and I’ve never seen anything like it. Apartment blocks soared 23 stories high. One after another in rows. One block curved round and ran on and on. I didn’t reach the end but it probably ended a further 1km on. What surprised me there was no graffiti, no rubbish and some green spaces in between the blocks.

What I did discover there, was an amazing mural in metal commemorating the Kosmonauts and it hadn’t been vandalised. A day later walking nearby to my apartment I found a fantastic mural to Karl Marx. Near Frankfurter Tor, two statues of women defending Communism sit opposite each other. They are slowly succumbing to the elements which to me seems a shame. The Communist murals and statues are part of Berlin’s history, a part which most Berliners would prefer to forget.

I’m off to Prague on Monday, and I’ll have a busy time there checking out locations. My European adventure is coming to an end and that’s ok.

More from Prague next week.

I’d seen film and photos of the destruction of the city, but until I went there, I had no idea of the extend. Before the War, Dresden was known as one of Europe’s most beautiful and cultured cities. Home of the Saxon kings with its Baroque buildings, unique monuments, churches and elegant houses. The Nazi’s believed Dresden would be immune to bombing because it was a cultural landmark and had no military significance. However, it was a major rail transport hub and housed many factories.

During 13-15 February 1945 the British and the Americans dropped more than 3,900 tons of high explosive bombs on the city of Dresden. This was in reprisal for the Luftwaffe’s destruction of the British city of Coventry. It’s been estimated that around 25,000 people were killed in those two days.

I bought a postcard taken immediately after the bombing. A statue of an angel stands on top of a tower with his hand outstretched. He seems to be saying. “Why?”

Dresden became part of the German Democratic Republic until reunification in 1990. I’d read about a Cold War museum on TripAdvisor called ‘The World of the DDR.’ It didn’t get great reviews but I decided to hop on a tram and visit it.

This was a great decision. Rooms were exhibited in the period of the 70’s and 80’s. Every four years new furniture was designed and citizens could purchase it. The downside was all your friends and neighbours would have exactly the same furniture. No choices in the DDR!

Surprising for a Sunday afternoon the museum was packed with people around my age. Probably anOstalgia trip down memory lane for people who lived in the old DDR during that period.There was a lot of laughing as visitors pointed at the exhibits. Trabants and Warburgs had men peering into the windows and wanting to drive one again.

Next day, an early start and off to the Dresden Palace. On my way I past the Princes Procession. It’s the largest mural in the world, made of Meissen tiles and features 35 portraits of the princes on horseback who ruled the House of Wettin (Kings of Saxony) over 800 years. The detail on them is incredible and I walked down the street and videoed it.

The Palace is a huge and impressive building which is currently being restored. Dresden like Berlin appears to be in the middle of a huge construction boom. There is a complicated ticket system, and offers over 13 types of admission! It took me about ten minutes to work out what I wanted to see. I decided on the general admission for 12 Euros. You can view two additional vaults stuffed with treasure if you have the time and money. The Kings loved collecting and amassing treasure. I saw incredible rubies, diamonds, emeralds set into clocks and decorative objects. A little too much ivory for my taste. The highlight of my visit was a replica in gold of an Indian Maharajah’s court. It took the craftsman and his brother five years to create it and it wasn’t a commissioned piece. The brothers hoped the King would like it and pay them. He did and paid top dollar for it.

This collection is Europe’s treasure trove, and I’d never heard of it until I researched Dresden.

I asked an attendant what happened to the collection during WWII. He answered somewhat reluctantly. Germans, I’ve found don’t like to talk about the past. Everything from 1990 is ok, but ask their views on anything which happened before this, they don’t like it. According to the attendant, Nazi’s hid the treasure underground at Konigsberg castle. Some of the jewels and figures are missing from the items. Apparently only a fraction of the treasure was found by the Soviets, which begs the question what happened to the rest? Who took them? Did they pay for a Nazi’s General new life in South America? Did the Soviets repatriate it? What a great premise for a story!

Walking through the Old Town towards Prager Strasse I came across a Cold War mural perfectly preserved on the side of the Palace of Culture. A woman is wrapped in a red flag with her fist raised, while other figures are engaged in working, defending the country, greeting other comrades or hugging children.

Having a spare couple of hours, I thought about resting in the hotel with a book or a visit to the Old Master Gallery. The gallery won out. Among the Renaissance works, I found a series of paintings of Canaletto’s which depict Dresden in the late 17th century. Worth seeing because visitors can take photos.

I took the train back to Berlin,which I’m enjoying apart from the cold. I went to the toilet and there were two buttons on the wall. Guess what? Yep, I set off the panic alarm. Rather embarrassing when the guard rushed to my assistance, as I sheepishly returned to my seat I tried to avoid the looks of horror and amazement from my fellow travellers.

Yesterday I went to see ‘Murder on the Orient Express’in English. The critics don’t like it and I can see why. It has a stellar cast. A great closed setting, with snow and an avalanche but the movie doesn’thave pace. As for Kenneth Branagh, well, directing and taking the lead role probably wasn’t one of his smartest career moves. Save your money, and stick with the book or the original 1974 movie.

Today I went to the eye specialist and she gave me the all clear. This is a huge relief, as I don’t need another operation.

I might use this title for a book!

I arrived in Berlin last Monday from Istanbul. The airport bus is the cheapest and quickest method to get into central Berlin and usually it’s easy to find a taxi. I gave the taxi driver the address of my new accommodation in English, as he had spoken to me in the same language. He then proceeded to drive me to a different address.

He said. “This is it.”

The look on his face was priceless when I said in German.

“No, it isn’t. This is not 20.”

On arrival I was greeted by Jurgen the owner of the apartment who informed me that the previous guests (English!) had set fire to the bathroom. They had thrown a towel over a light and it had caught alight. The smell of burning pervaded the room but it cleared when I opened a window. He told me I’d have to find another place because it wasn’t up to standard, but if I paid him 1000 Euro in cash then I could have it. He would cancel the booking so he didn’t incur any commission from the company.

Has this happened before? Yes, in India. I made a deal with a guy who owned a guest house so he wasn’t subject to commission charges. However, India is somewhat different to Germany. I was tired, and I thought what choice do I have? I can’t find another place at 4pm. Jurgen actually marched me to the ATM, so he could have the cash immediately.

I decided to go to the hairdresser. Yes, after the last experience in Vienna I was concerned, but I thought if I check out the reviews on Google then it should be ok. I made an appointment with an English-speaking hairdresser who was covered in tattoos. I explained in English and German how I’d like my hair cut and the colour I wanted. She nodded. In the mirror I watched a woman my age having her hair dyed a bright vermillion. She left with an extremely short haircut which didn’t suit her.

The hairdresser said. “I love being creative.” Warning bells rang. I said in German. “Not too short please.” She smiled and plastered the dye on my hair.

Fast forward one hour. The colour wasn’t what I asked for. I think it’s too dark. Then she proceeded to cut it very short at the back and sides. I can’t imagine any hairdresser in NZ doing this. Otherwise they would be very short on customers. When I paid she said, “Women love coming here because they leave with something different.” Too true, I thought as I paid 150 euro.

I had decided to take the train to Zurich which involved a long 9 hour journey. The reason why I did this is because my protagonist Nikki Sinclair does. The journey wasn’t too bad. I thought I’d see stunning scenery but sadly not. No matter as I thought of another plot and wrote the outline on my phone.

The hotel was a short walk from the station and in the middle of the Old Town. My friend who comes to Zurich every year recommended it and it was a great place to stay, not cheapbut I could walk everywhere.

The next morning, I visited the Museum of Art on an extremely wet Sunday. Do go if you are in Zurich. The collection comprises of three of Monet’s water lilies and I think they have seven Van Gogh’s. Just before he took his own life, he painted a self-portrait, if you look into his eyes you can see the hopelessness, despair and sadness.

I spent the next two days researching locations, and all of them I’d chosen were perfect. This doesn’t happen very often. I took the train out to the airport for my flight back to Berlin. I’d received a reminder from Expedia on Sunday. I looked at the board for departures and couldn’t see my flight. I went to the information desk.

“Air Berlin? I’m sorry but they went into liquidation two weeks ago.”

“Can I use my ticket with another airline?”

“No. You must buy another ticket.”

Swiss Air had a flight at 3.30pm. I looked online. Thank goodness for cell phones and good data roaming and I bought a one way ticket for 153 pounds. I was furious with Expedia and they still have Air Berlin advertised on their webpage. I sent an email asking why they hadn’t informed me.

Here’s Expedia’s response.

“We apologise for the inconvenience caused. Contact your credit company. We seek your understanding in this matter.”

My advice would be don’t use Expedia. I planned to book my tickets to NZ with them. I won’t be doing that now. Will I be reimbursed? I don’t think so. Another experience of travelling which I could have done without.

Anyway, next time – Dresden.

Yes, I’m in Istanbul. The city where East meets West. But there doesn’t seem to be much Western influence in today’s Istanbul.

The reason why I’m here is because of James Bond. The iconic movie ‘From Russia With Love’ was filmed on location here in 1963. I’ve always loved it and I had a thought. Why don’t I use the settings of the movie and write a short story featuring Nikki Sinclair?

I arrived on Monday afternoon exhausted from my whistle stop trip around Bulgaria. More about this in my next blog! I admit I hadn’t done my homework on Turkey and I presumed it was in the EU. Queuing for over an hour I finally reached passport control.

“You have no visa.”

“But I’m a British citizen.”

“It doesn’t matter here. Go and buy one.”

With a wave of his hand he dismissed me, trudging over to the visa counter I bought one for 25 Euro. I explained to the visa officer I couldn’t stand for another hour at my age! Thankfully he fast tracked me through the Turkish passport section and I had arrived. The airport is huge and chaotic and I had arranged a taxi to meet me. Eventually I found my driver and we arrived surprisingly quickly at the Aren Suite Hotel. I paid an extra $100 for a seaview and I expected a peep of the sea. No. I have amazing unrestricted views from three windows over the Bosphorus. As I’m writing this a container ship is sailing past with its lights on. Sometimes it’s worth paying and upgrading, and a big plus, my room is large, comfortable and warm.

I’m trying to avoid eating eggs, cheese and bread, as I think my cholesterol is probably through the roof after Bulgaria. It was difficult finding any fresh fruit there.

Yesterday I ordered a vegetarian Testi. The waiter came to my table and broke open an earthenware pot. Hot steaming vegetables poured onto the plate. It tasted good, until half way through I thought I had broken a tooth. I extracted a piece of what looked like bone from my mouth. I called the waiter over. He said it was a piece of the pot. The jury is still out on that one.

I can’t recall travelling to a country where women are third class citizens. If I had known this, I probably wouldn’t have come but I thought the Turks were more enlightened. Unfortunately, not. I think about 85 out of a 100 women are wearing some kind of head covering.

This is today’s antidote of how women are treated. I’m eating breakfast and a woman wearing a niqab, (I could only see her eyes) followed her obese, old husband. He sat down while she served him. He begins to eat and gives her a nod. She goes and gets some food. To eat she had to lift her face covering. This displeased him, as he barked at her. She didn’t eat again, and sat with her eyes cast down.

Young, attractive women probably in their late teens or early twenties and covered up are married to gross, revolting older men.

From what I’ve observed so farIstanbul seems to be a hub and meeting place for Moslems from the Middle and Far East and Europe. I’ve heard Manchester accents from under niqabs and watched women from Indonesia and Malaysia trailing behind men or in groups of women.

On my first afternoon I was harassed EIGHT times by men. Yesterday after spending two hours in the Topkapi Museum, which in my opinionis overcrowded and overpriced.I decided to get something to eat. I’m walking by the Blue Mosque and this guy follows me, asking me four times if I want his services as a guide.

“Lady you pay me for tour but you have to wear a headscarf and a skirt.”

“No, I don’t want one.”

“Lady, this way.”

He touches me.

“Get your hand off me. Did I ask you to talk to me? You’re harassing me. Leave me alone.”

“Come with me.”

By now I’m furious and screamed.

“Would you like it if your mother was harassed like this? Where’s your respect for women?”

Pedestrians swivel around and look in our direction. The guy slinks off. Interestingly and unsurprisingly men never approach Muslim women. Women who don’t cover their heads are fair game whatever age they are. Rant over!

Fans of James Bond will remember the scene where Karim Bey rows a boat under the Soviet embassy. This scene was shot in the Basilica Cistern and it dates to the Byzantine Emperor Justinian who built it in 527 to conserve the city’s water. It’s an incredible feat of engineering, with 336 columns, over 9 metres in height and it’s the size of two football pitches. The lighting is subdued and it has an eerie feeling despite numerous coach parties being whisked through it. The water level was low, perhaps because it hadn’t rained, but for 20 lira it gave me the setting for my book.

When I walked into the Hagia Museum, which also featured in ‘From Russia With Love’ half of it was under renovation and cordoned off. The building is the centre piece of Istanbul, and situated across a square from the Blue Mosque. It was originally built as a church by Constantine in 325, and re-constructed three times over the centuries. In 1453 it was converted into a mosque.

I found the red column where Bond spots the Bulgarian hiding next to the marble urn. Then I looked upwards I saw the dome and a blue angel painted on the ceiling. I spotted a balcony, but because I hadn’t done my homework I didn’t realise the highlights were above me. There are few signposts in the museum, but I found a ramp, no stairs thank goodness and began the trek upwards. After 10 or 12 twists and turns I arrived in the gallery. Here there were less tourists, and half way around the balcony I found the treasures of the museum.

There are three magnificent mosaics on the walls dating from the 10th, 11th and 12th century. Two of them depict Emperors and the Empresses giving alms to Christ. They are in gold and the colours haven’t faded over the centuries. The last one which I stood at looked at for half an hour was of Christ, Virgin Mary and John the Baptist.

Last week I viewed mosaics which were used to control and subdue the population. What a contrast to this week, where mosaics were used to uplift and inspire people.

More next time from Berlin!

Reviewers on Trip Advisor gave the Opera House 4-5 stars. It’s also described as one of the top attractions in Budapest. SoI took an afternoon tour, paying for the admission, a fee to take photos and a mini concert. The experience took about 45 minutes and it didn’t go backstage as the opera house is being renovated. The guide showed us the box where Emperor Franz Josef sat during the one time he visited the opera in Vienna.

The building does look impressive from the outside, but inside it’s quite small. It was bombed in WW11, and had to be completely renovated. Yes, the British and Americans were blamed yet again. I became a little tired of hearing this refrain in Budapest. The mini concert consisted of a tenor singing a short aria. I felt underwhelmed and overcharged. If you’ve been to the opera house in Vienna, save your money and don’t bother to visit.

What do you do with obsolete Communist statues? You put them in a park outside Budapest and turn them into a tourist attraction. To get there took an over an hour by tram and bus. The bus came on time and dropped me outside Memento Park. I invested in a guide book which gave useful information on who and where the statues had been previously. I wandered around in brilliant sunshine marvelling at the size and the enormity of them, but to see these massive figures on squares and streets in everyday life must have been frightening for the population. Big Brother is watching you! At the end of the park there is a long brick wall and a road. The road leads nowhere and there is nothing behind the wall.

Back in Budapest I decided to see Heroes Square and you must arrive by metro. The square was commissioned by the Hapsburgs to celebrate the 1000 anniversary of the founding of Hungary in 1894. Before trams were invented horses pulled carriages along the route of the metro. As you climb up a few stairs you look across to Heroes Square, and it is jaw dropping. It’s the largest square in Budapest. Figures from Hungarian history sit on half circle monuments. Two museums are located on either side of the square, and at the rear there is City Park, with a 20th century fairy tale castle. You can’t go inside it but I walked through the courtyard, it’s nice to look at but there’s nothing of significant interest.

I took a tour of the Parliament building. This gets booked up weeks in advance, and it’s best to purchase on line tickets which I did. I was lucky enough to get the last ticket for the English speaking tour. As you can imagine this is the most popular tour. If you can’t get tickets for it, I recommend you take a tour in another language because the building is worth seeing inside. In the Communist era the assembly only met 4 times a year. Now it’s a fully functioning Parliament. Two guards with swords keep watch over the crown jewels, and if a tourist gets to near they are challenged, same with photos you can take them anywhere in the rest of the building but none are permitted in this room. The guide repeatedfour times to the same stupid individual and as he was led away he continued to argue. It’s a magnificent building, with wonderful gold leaf painting, but it’s notoriginal which did not escape the Russian siege or the bombing of WW11.

I booked a ticket to see Hungarian folk dancing. The dances were dominated by men, and the women only supplied a supporting role. There was plenty of thigh and shoe slapping, jumping up and down, and a lot of knee bending. All I could think of was in ten or fifteen years they will be queuing up for knee replacements!

On my last Sunday I went to a Hungarian operetta – ‘The Gypsy Princess.’This is a story set in 1915 which a singer falls in love with an aristocrat. He signs an agreement to marry her before she goes to America to find fortune. When she returns he has promised to marry another girl!  Eventually they are reunited and head to the US together. That’s what I surmised, because the subtitles were in German! The operetta is extremely popular in there and in Austria and Hungary.

The song that runs through it is called “Long live love.” Well, I think that’s what it is and it stayed in my brain for at least 3 days afterwards!  The audience was 98% Hungarian who had dressed up for the occasion. I went to get a drink at the interval and was surprised to find the bar deserted. When the bell rang for the second half, they charged up the stairs. Most of the audience had gone out to smoke. They seemed to enjoy it, but nobody smiled or laughed. At the end of each piece of music, the audience clapped not spontaneously but all together and in time.  Nobody stood up and clapped, and nobody shouted “Bravo.” It reminded me of the Communist conferences which were televised years ago when the enthusiastic audience clapped for ten minutes. I attempted to converse with people sitting on both sides of me, first in English and then in German. I received suspicious looks and no response, so I took the hint.

I enjoyed my time in Budapest, but I wouldn’t want to live there. There’s an edge to the city and I felt a sense of desperateness. If you look around nobody smiles, the clothes are cheap and poorly made. Food is expensive. Spar grocery shops have invaded the city. People are struggling to make ends meet. The wages are low here. Smoking is huge, both with men and women. Vodka is popular and relatively cheap. I’ve seen more street homeless here than in all the cities I’ve visited. My apartment was near a large square. At night, men and women would bed down on thin cardboard and often didn’t have anything to cover them. I never saw them beg, but I think the police presence probably detered them. The situation for these people is bleak as there doesn’t seem to be any outreach or help for them.

Yesterday I flew to Sofia. More in 12 days’ time as I’m going on a Communist tour and won’t be able to write a blog!