Close Encounters Of The Bovine Kind....

A final post from my Alpine Adventures series....

So.... it's the first day of our hiking holiday and we're about ten minutes into our first of many uphills to come, up a steep and narrow forest path. It's raining lightly, but we're sheltered among the trees....  

We hear them, long before we see them. The soothing melody of cow bells, echoing down the mountain.


Oh look! It's a lovely cow with a cowbell!! Got to get a photo of that!

Ahhh, such a cute looking cow.... hang on! She does seem to be moving a lot closer to us. In fact, she's on the run....

Mad French cow! Madder than a box of frogs

Two minutes later, said mad cow has me backed into a large and very prickly bush, with nowhere to hide. Her head down, horns aimed at my stomach, and I'm contemplating a painful death by goring... believe me, female cows have massive great bastard horns on them too!....and highly peeved that I've not even made it past the first hour of the first hike.

Lick! Lick! Euuuuuch! All she wanted to do was give a big fat slobbery lick with her enormous rough tongue!

The first of many bovine encounters that week... fortunately, none as formidable as that one....

Keeping a safe distance!

Thirsty cow - possibly mad too

Italian cow - less formidable than her French counterparts!

Silly cows!

This one had no beef with me!

Paris... The Bad, The Good and The Funny

I recently treated my mom to a weekend in Paris for her birthday. Things didn't go exactly to plan, but we had a load of laughs and came away with many memories.

It was raining the day we arrived... the type of rain that drives everyone indoors, seeking warmth and shelter, and yearning for hot cups of tea and yummy cakes. Consequently the queues for cafes everywhere were horrendous! After a bit of browsing in the beautiful Galeries Lafayette, I'd planned on taking my mom to Angelina's  for tea, but we really didn't want to waste the afternoon waiting in the long line that was snaking down the Rue de Rivoli.

Galeries Lafayette

Galeries Lafayette

Plan B - find somewhere (anywhere) along the Champs Elysee - turned out to be Very Bad Plan Indeed. We'd walked all the way down to the Arc de Triomphe... in the pouring rain.... without finding anywhere. Finally, just near the Arc, I noticed a restaurant  that was serving les gateaux yummy and had loads of empty tables under the cover of the awning in front of the cafe...result!

Or maybe not. Apparently the only table that was available for us was the one right at the edge of the awning... the table that was getting progressively wetter with the persistent raindrops falling on it. When I pointed out to the sullen waiter that there were in fact other empty tables and that we did not fancy sipping tea diluted with the deluge of water that would be falling into our cups, he just shrugged mournfully... "I cannot help the rain!". 

Fair point. I did not expect him to be in control of all matters meteorological. I did, however, expect a bit of half decent customer service... so we let our feet do the walking as "I can, however, take my patronage elsewhere, Monsieur!".

Admitting defeat, we returned to our hotel, stopping at the little patisserie over the road to pick up a selection of macaroons and a takeaway coffee. We were just enjoying the sugary delights in the comfort of our hotel room... with not a sneering waiter in sight... when with a loud crash, a huge picture fell off the wall and onto the floor... yikes! Luckily that didn't happen in the middle of the night... or we may well have both suffered heart failure. Nothing worse than getting woken up by loud crashes and bangs....

Nothing disturbed our slumber that night. After a fabulous dinner in a brasserie not far from the hotel... great food and a jovial waiter who seemed quite struck with the mother and daughter duo, tried speaking to us in Russian and then Italian when I attempted some awful French, and then joked that we did not need to pay for the meal, but we'd have to do the washing up.... we went to bed early, planning to make the most of our second and last day in Paris. I didn't bother to set an alarm... my mom is always up with the larks, so I didn't give it much thought. I certainly did not expect to sleep right through until almost 11 o'clock the following morning! What did that jolly waiter put in our ratatouille the night before? Valium?

Of course we'd missed breakfast and, what was worse, wasted a good few hours of the glorious sunshine! I phoned down to reception (worried that we'd even missed checkout) and the lovely gent on duty reassured me that we still had another hour, and then offered us breakfast in our room at no extra charge. Within a few minutes, there was a knock on the door and a tray of fresh pastries, baguettes, butter, jams, honey, a pot of tea and orange juice was delivered to us...what a treat to have breakfast in bed!

Fuelled up and feeling very well rested, we set off for the Eiffel Tower and a boat trip down the Seine to take in the sights...

A bit of a dash back to Gare du Nord and we just made our Eurostar train back to London. 

Tout est bien qui finit bien!

(All's well that end's well)

Photos all my own

Trouble and Strife

My poor, long-suffering husband…. almost 11 years ago he promised to give me his unending love and devotion, to share his thoughts, hopes, and dreams with me. He also promised to be The One Who Disposes of All Things That Crawl and Flap and Buzz, and The Calm One in Adverse Situations… come to think of it, many of the adverse scenarios we have so far encountered in our lives together have been resolved by his expert spider slaying techniques. So actually, he got off rather lightly, all things considered… two roles rolled into one, so to speak.

Or maybe not… he did marry into my somewhat insane oddball mad as a box of frogs eccentric family. I always say he should have run for the hills the day he met my brother. This is the same brother who assured me as a child that if he cut my Barbie doll’s hair, it would grow back… even longer and more luscious. Who set fire to my favourite baby doll, using her to put out the flames of a fire he had started in his cupboard. The self-same brother, who decided that ironing the creases out of his shoe laces would be the perfect intimidating activity to accompany his interrogation of B… one requiring a fierce spotlight lamp, apparently positioned just right to illuminate the ironing board, and by happy coincidence, casting a blinding bright light into B’s eyes!

Then there's my mom, who can take practical jokes a bit too far at times.

Anyway, that's enough about my family and other animals.

So…. it’s the last evening of our Thai holiday, and time to bid a sad farewell to the beautiful, tropical paradise of our lush resort, the smiling Thai people, excruciating but invigorating daily Thai massages, and of course, satay chicken on tap. How depressing to have to pack to go home… isn't that the worst part of the trip? And such a contrast to packing to go away… that can take me weeks of excited anticipation. Packing to travel home I usually leave till the last minute… no need to waste any precious holiday time neatly folding dirty clothes!

Just grab the cases, flip them open, chuck everything in and….. whoa!!! 

Hang on just an eight-legged freak-ing moment! What in the name of all that is hairy and scary is THAT THING leering up at me from the depths of Suitcase Abyss?

Possibly the ugliest spider I have yet to set eyes on… and I’ve eye-balled quite a few. Growing up in the Tropics, I’ve had more than my share of Close Encounters of the Arachnid Kind.

This Thai variety was almost snow white…. which was quite fortunate, as it was thus easily spotted as it set off at great speed across the dark, teak floor boards, towards the floor-length curtains.

Nat: Kill it! Kill it! Kill it!

B {barefoot and barely clothed}: With what, exactly?

Nat: Don’t care… just kill it! Kill it! KILL IT!

B: Pass me a shoe, please.

Note to self: Flimsy flip-flops and insubstantial strappy sandals may look pretty on holiday feet, but they are about as much use as a chocolate teapot when it comes to Arachnid Annihilating Activities.

Nat: You got it? I’d stand on that sandal now though, just to be sure...! {B lifts said sandal and (as if by magic) the spider has vanished. Presumably, it has crawled up the aforementioned (very pale) curtains... just perfect for any anaemic-looking spider trying to go incognito}

Note to the management of the Sala Samui Resort and Spa: Subdued lighting is all very well and romantic… but it does nothing to aid Spider Spotting Situations. Ditto the white curtains. But thank you for so thoughtfully providing a very powerful torch in the room…

To cut short a long, long, LONG story… involving the torch, an umbrella, lots of shrieking, and a loud thump… the sneaky spider’s plans to stowaway to London in our luggage were well and truly scuppered.

…….

Random Useless Piece of Information: in Cockney rhyming slang, your ‘trouble and strife’ is your wife…

Eight-legged Freaks

Arachnokarma. Believe me, it happens.

Spend the morning confining to the bottom of your Dyson cylinder the lifeless bodies of hundreds of itsy, bitsy, teeny little spiders that had taken up residence in your kitchen blind, you can expect later that same day to look up into the malevolent eyes of the big, fat, hairy Daddy of all spiders…lurking on your car windscreen visor, while you’re gunning down the fast lane of the M25.

Nat: Houston....we have a problem!

B (driving): What sort of problem?

Nat: The sort that involves a great big hairy spider dangling just above your head!

B (turning a slightly paler shade of grey): Well, just flick it away!

Nat: With what exactly?

B: I dunno.... your hand?

Nat (wondering why, after 17 years of living with a woman who turns into an hysterical, shrieking banshee every time she spots the teeniest spider, this man could even joke that said hysterical woman would touch a great big hairy, scary spider!): Are you insane?????!!!!

B: Well use your water bottle, then. I can't do anything... I'm driving.

Nat (shaking violently but somehow mustering the strength to grasp the water bottle and use it to bat the enormous, deadly looking spider across to HER side of the car!): Cr*p! Now it's on the window! MY WINDOW!

B: So wind down the window and shove it out!

Nat: NOOOOOOOO! It will jump on me!

B: And I can't drive with you sitting in my lap like this!

Nat: Pull over!!!

B: I can't! There's no hard shoulder...

Nat: Pull over, right now!!!!!

B brings the car to an emergency stop at the side of the road. Nat opens the door and leaps out, to witness the gigantic, hairy, venomous spider being summarily dismissed from the car.

Nat: He's trying to crawl back inside! Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!!!!

B: Just get back in the car, woman! You're going to get yourself killed!

Why does he always have to be such a Drama Queen....?!

One of my favourite fridge magnets by Rose Rigden

The Day We Almost Ran Out of Gas...

We left Tweedsmuir (and its plague of mosquitoes), heading for the Rockies...a very long drive that would take us two days, with an overnight in Williams Lake. Weary of being a mobile mosquito buffet, most of the group were not keen to hang around Anahim Lake any longer than necessary, but our tour leader was in no great rush to get to Williams Lake - it was just a convenient port of call before the epic trek to Jasper. So, the ever helpful (some might say beguiling) hotel proprietor suggested we take a scenic detour via Farwell Canyon.

On the road again

Sounded like a good option, so we set off...stopping a couple of times along the way to admire the view and then ironically, as you will find out later, at the gas station featured above. We did not in fact fill up with gas here...instead we sampled tiger-tiger ice cream (orange ice cream striped with licorice and delicious!) in the coffee shop and admired the mounted cougar. We found out that the poor beast had been declared guilty of hunting livestock, and shot for his sins...only the cattle-rustling didn’t stop after his demise, so he was falsely accused.

An innocent cougar

Shortly after the ice-cream stop, we turned off for the detour, in search of Farwell Canyon...

Which way?

Farwell Canyon lived up to its name.... it was well far away, and possibly a much longer drive than our leader had anticipated. Just when we were beginning to wonder if we’d been sent on a long farewell by the hotelier (perhaps he has an odd sense of humour... bwahahaha!) we began a slightly hairy descent down into the canyon.

The Chilcotin River winding through the Farwell Canyon

We found a good spot to picnic

I was fascinated by the ruined log buildings of an abandoned ranch, close by. I wonder what prompted its residents to up sticks and leave one day? Possibly the end of cattle ranching in the area. A bit of a creepy place, that would make a great set for a horror film..."Ranch of the Damned", or perhaps "The Long Farewell"?

Having come down such a steep descent, we naturally had to drive back up again. Our tour leader had mentioned earlier that she was going to have to fill up with gas at some point, but she was quite relaxed about it. She’d said there was loads of mileage in the reserve, and we weren’t onto that yet. On that steep ascent, however, when the reserve warning light suddenly flashed up on the dashboard she was not quite as relaxed! We were going to have to find gas soon....on a Sunday, in a very deserted area. OK, time to kill the aircon...it was probably the hottest day of the trip....but conserving fuel was top priority.

Random shot from the van

All eyes were now pealed on the side of the road, looking for a sign to a gas station...we’d all become familiar with the distinct blue “Gas Food Lodgings” signs along the roads, but never had we been so keen to see one as that day! At least three times, we spied one in the distance, only to read “Golf” when we were close enough...who cares if there’s a $£%&*golf course in the vicinity, we needed GAS! By now, our tour leader was clearly getting a bit worried...we were getting closer to Williams Lake, but were still not close enough to walk into town with a jerry can to buy fuel. Never did a road seem so unending... but eventually we were on the outskirts of town. Luckily, it was a downhill run, as we literally coasted in on vapours and pulled into the nearest gas station.

Panic over.

Bridge over the Fraser River, taken from the moving van