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Wigtown, Scotland

Wigtown, Scotland is the book capital of Scotland due to an abundance of bookshops set in a small, quaint town. Each fall it has a book festival. It is on the south coast of Scotland and is home to just under 1000 people, most of whom seemed surprised to see us there as travelers.

My mum, Luba, picked Wigtown because we both love books and bookstores and she had read a book by the owner of one of the bookstores, which was all about the town and his bookshop. A small town full of bookstores and characters sounded good for me, so we made the trip south from Edinburgh. (For a detailed account of the trains and buses required to reach Wigtown, see this post here.)

We stayed at Hillcrest House, a charming bed & breakfast in an old house a short walk from both the town and the sea and run by a lovely couple from England.

The town was delightful. It is tiny. You could see everything twice in an afternoon and still get to bed early. We spent two nights and 1.5 days, which was perfect. We got to go to all of the bookstores that were open (some of them randomly close on certain weekdays), have leisurely teas and strolls. Very pleasant.

The most famous of the bookstores is The Bookshop, known for being the book store of the aforementioned book, for being Scotland’s largest secondhand bookstore, and for its cluttered and creative interior.

We browsed there for quite a while and first edition Alfred Dunhill pipe book. (I collect cigar, pipe, and tobacco books.) Sadly, the owner was away for on a buying trip at the time.

We twice went for shopping and tea at Beltie Books, which we loved due to the proprietor, who had a demeanor that was to our liking and made excellent cakes.

We loved all of the bookstores and walking to visit all of them. There is a website for Wigtown’s booksellers, but it does not include all of them. There are good maps and brochures that have better listings available at most of the shops (but certainly found at Beltie’s). The shops do keep some odd hours, so if visiting all of them is your goal, do some planning ahead of time. We were winging it, and missed some.

There are a number of cafes and eateries, including one that is all vegan and vegetarian.

I have no idea how the town functions outside of the book festival, business-wise. It is utterly charming, but everyone we spoke to seemed so surprised that we were visiting on holiday. It is quiet and certainly not overrun with tourists. We loved it though. All the locals were so friendly and…colorful. It felt somewhat like being in a BBC show set in a small town. Who knows, maybe a show set in the town is forthcoming.

We also took walks on some of the trails around the town. One led to the sea, past fields of sheep.

Another led to a martyrs execution site where the ‘Wigtown Martyrs” were tied to stakes and drowned in the 17^th C for, effectively, being staunch Catholics and refusing to take an oath to denounce a guy who had denounced the King.

That’s basically it for Wigtown. Books, tea, strolls, and martyrs. It was a lovely and relaxing stop and we both liked seeing a bit of small town Scotland, as well as the journey there and back.

With our books (Luba bought quite a few) we made the journey back north, this time to Stirling.

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To Wigtown, Scotland by Train and Bus

In southern Scotland is a town called Wigtown. If you are reading this, you likely know why Wigtown is a destination, but if not, people go to Wigtown because it is the ‘book capital of Scotland’, boasting maybe a dozen bookstores in a quaint town of about 900 people. Each fall they have a book festival. My mother had read a book about the town written by one of the bookstore owners and we are both keen readers and book hoarders so we decided to go. The issue was how to get to Wigtown by train and bus.

Scotland is not very big so the most sensible way to get to Wigtown is to drive, but I never learned how and my mother did not want the stress of driving in a foreign country so transit it had to be. There are no direct routes from Edinburgh or Glasgow to Wigtown and there was no useful information I could find to tell me which trains and buses to take, so I figured it out, which took a bit of effort, so here you are: how to get to Wigtown from Edinburgh or Glasgow without driving.

We started in Edinburgh but the first leg of the journey necessitated going to Glasgow, so this works for departures from either city.

We left Edinburgh (Waverley Station) on a morning train for Glasgow. All trains can be booked ahead of time on the ScotRail website https://www.scotrail.co.uk. As far as I could tell there is no need to book in advance, but I did anyway and then picked up the tickets at the train station in Edinburgh from a machine.

The train from Edinburgh to Glasgow takes anywhere from 44 minutes to about an hour and 15 depending on the train. They cost the same. We took the shorter one and arrived at Glasgow Queen Street Station.

From there we had to change not only trains, but train stations – from Glasgow Queen Street to Glasgow Central. The stations are a five-minute walk apart, but leave yourself a bit longer to get there and find your next train. 15 minutes was fine for us.

From Glasgow Central we took a train to the town of Barrhill. This leg of the journey takes around two hours, depending on the train.

This is where things got interesting. Barrhill is a town of maybe 400 people. You may see none of them. The station is unmanned, so you basically get off the train next to a building that will be closed, surrounded by fields of sheep. You cannot pick up or buy tickets there. There is no phone and are no taxis.

The sheep that will greet you in Barrhill

From Barrhill Station there is a road to Barrhill town, which is walk able. It took us 20 minutes. It is an odd walk because it really is just a country road with little or no traffic.

You leave the station on the only road and soon will hit a fork. Turn left heading downhill slightly.

Follow that road through fields and past a cemetery on your left.

Barrhill Cemetery – maybe more populous than the town

At some point you will see a sign welcoming you to Barrhill.

You will then reach a part of the road with houses and signs and your second fork in the road.

Turn right towards the town. The town is a couple blocks of mostly houses, but there is a hotel (closed when we were there) and a general store where you can buy snacks and water and whatnot.

So, you’ve turned right and about one block down on the left hand side of the street is an unassuming bus stop just before a little bridge.

Wait there for the #359 bus to Newtown Stewart. Don’t worry, it will come.

You can check the timetables for buses here www.stagecoachbus.com.

There are a couple of buses in the morning and a couple in the afternoon. We caught the 1:20pm bus, which was on time. This is like a regular city bus. The website suggests that you may be able to buy tickets in advance close to the date, but there is no reason for that. Just buy the tickets on the bus, but check the fares ahead of time, and bring exact change or at last small bills. You cannot pay with credit cards and I did not see an ATM in Barrhill (and you don’t want to get stuck there). If you did get stuck in Barrhill you could call a taxi from Newton Stewart, about 40 minutes away, from www.mcleanstaxis.com but I have no idea what that would cost. Barrhill does not have taxis.

The bus from Barrhill to Newtown Stewart takes about 40 minutes.

Tell the driver you want to get off at Dashwood Square. Newtown Stewart is a metropolis of about 3,500 people and has more than one bus stop. Dashwood Square is the main bus loop, just in front of city hall (where you can totally pop in and use the washroom).

City Hall at Dashwood Square, Newton Stewart

From Dashwood Square catch the #415 bus from Stance 1 to Wigtown. It will take only about 15 minutes and that bus leave frequently (every 15-30 minutes throughout the day).

On arrival in Wigtown, you will be dropped off in the town centre, with a square in the middle and book stores all around, walking distance to everything.

I loved Wigtown, but I loved the journey there just as much as being there. It was like a fun mini adventure and was a great way to see some small towns and countryside in southern Scotland.

A final note, to return to Edinburgh or Glasgow (to to go to Stirling, as we did) you just reverse the direction of this trip, however be sure to buy your train tickets out of Barrhill in advance, as there is no place to buy them in Barrhill.

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Edinburgh, Scotland

Any misgivings I had about going to Scotland were dissipated upon arrival in Edinburgh. Luba and I took the train from the airport, past green fields and hopping bunnies, and arrived at the Princes Street station just in time to see a fabulous sunset and catch a glimpse of the city before total darkness descended. We both just said “wow.”

It really is a beautiful city. The hills give it a wonderful tiered quality so you can see the castle, rows of pretty stone buildings, statues, and parks all at once. But it was late and we still had to find our way to our Air bnb. We walked from the tram stop up and then down again to reach Grassmarket. Once the fav spot for public executions, then a neighbourhood for poor people, now a cool area with pubs and cafes and our lodgings. (Note to self for future non-fiction history book: “From Murder to Micro Brews: The Gentrification of Grassmarket”.) On reflection, this area was the perfect place to stay. Central and with lots of food and amenities nearby, a hilly walk to both the train station and tram stops.

We checked out our flat and I went for a quick stroll before bed. After all, there was a lot of sight seeing to come.

We woke up (to an alarm – yes I set alarms on holiday, much to my mother’s consternation) and had a coffee on Grassmarket before walking up and down picture perfect Victoria Street. It’s easy to see why it is in pretty much every Google search I did about travel in Edinburgh.

Victoria Street, Edinburgh (from the other end)

We went for breakfast on a patio overlooking Victoria Street. The sun was shining and would continue to do so. I had not been looking forward to the food in Scotland. I expected few vegetarian options other than falafel stands and salads. As it turned out, everywhere we went in Scotland there was an abundance of vegetarian and vegan options. Organic, gluten free, et cetera. I ordered a vegan Scottish breakfast, which came with vegan haggis, beans, tomatoes, mushrooms, spinach, and toast. It was pretty good and now I can say I’ve had haggis (sort of).

From there we walked down part of the ‘Royal Mile’ to Edinburgh Castle, one of the two main sights in the city.

This is not the castle; it is just a fine, pointy black church

We opted not to take a guided tour, so I didn’t learn much, but we enjoyed wandering. The oldest of the existing buildings are late 16^th C but there has been a fortress of some sort on the site since at least the 12^th C. As with most of the sites in Edinburgh, it was quite busy with tourists, but there were no queues to speak of and I didn’t find the crowds bothersome, but I didn’t have the patience for a historical tour.

From there we walked more of the Royal Mile just to see what there was. As it turns out: loads and loads of touristy tartan shops. After a few days in the country even I started to get sucked in, thinking, “Perhaps I do need a tartan tam and shawl.” Thankfully, I had the sense to know that there would be no way I would wear or want such things once I was back home. Instead I bought a cigar at one of the many tobacconists in the city.

Another picture of Victoria Street.
They do have more streets here but this one is just so colourful.

We then walked back to near the Princes Street tram stop, where we parted ways. Luba went to do her own thing, and I continued to wander around. I had visions of finding a sunny patio and having a cigar, but I never did find quite the right spot. (Smoking is 100% banned inside in Edinburgh, but smoking outside, including on patios is fine; in fact, it seems to be encouraged.) I did enjoy my walk, aimlessly checking out the side streets and squares of the City Centre.

Looking back to the Old City, Edinburgh. This is not the weather I was expecting.

view of Edinburgh Castle from the City Centre

On my way back to Grassmarket, I decided to take the long way round and ended up pleasantly strolling in a cemetery and around the University of Edinburgh.

I reconnected with Luba and we went for dinner at Maison Bleue, a French restaurant on Victoria. It was a bit fancier than we were used to but it had a nice bohemian vibe.

“food first, then morals”
Maison Bleue on Victoria Street

If that has been our only day in Edinburgh, that would have been pretty satisfying, but the next day we had more planned. We walked to the Palace of Holyroodhouse: the home of the Queen of England when in Scotland and royal residence dating back to the 16^th C.

It was quite impressive. The rooms were fairly lavish and it was pretty neat to see where the Queen still has her dinners and get together when she is in town. I’m no monarchist, but I am Canadian and there is a certain interest or awareness of the Queen that is ingrained.

It was especially interesting to see Mary Queen of Scots’ bed chamber where the pregnant queen was forced to watch as her husband killed her secretary/secret lover. Historical drama! Tiny Beds!

We visited the remains of the abbey.

The grounds of the palace were especially lovely.

From there we went for a much slower stroll, stopping to check out lanes and views, and finally, to stop for a proper tea.

Fueled with caffeine and scones, we walked up Calton Hill for views over the city. The views were somewhat marred by the unfortunate angle of the sun at that time of day (morning would have been better), but the walk up was great and we chatted with a local man in his 70s who walks up the hill daily and had choice words for both Donald Trump and Theresa May.

We spent a while on the hill just enjoying the breeze and shade with a cigar and a couple of books.

After that we just ambled slowly and in a round about way back to our home, stopping to visit the Greyfriars Kirkyard and Kirk that I saw the day before and the café where J.K. Rowling apparently wrote much of Harry Potter. (Harry Potter has become a real claim to fame for Scotland. Take that, Robert Burns!)

There is so much more to do in Edinburgh, but we just wanted to be a bit more relaxed in our pace and decided we could skip museums and galleries.

What we couldn’t skip was browsing around Armstrong & Son’s vintage clothing shop, which itself has been in business since about 1840. It was a delight, though we both walked away empty handed.

We packed in it early that night as the next day we had an early train to catch heading south. I loved Edinburgh, could easily see myself living there, and looked forward to returning at the end of our jaunt.

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An Afternoon in London, Or ‘How Solo Travel Has Made Me A Bit Of A Jerk’

Scotland wasn’t on my travel list. It looked lovely, but these days I crave destinations that are more far-flung and a little dangerous maybe. I can’t stand it when I tell people where I am going and they have their own suggestions. “Oh you must go to this restaurant.” Et cetera. Scotland was one of those destinations. Plus, as of writing, it isn’t an independent country, so I don’t even get the satisfaction of going to a new country. Not that that is the reason I travel, but I do like lists.

So when I said to my mother, “Would you like to take another international trip with me?” and she said “Scotland” I was fine with it, but not excited. I stifled the urge to say something like, “What about Algeria? Or Bangladesh?” Instead I got to planning.

Scotland actually has a lot of charming places, green walks, and oodles of castles. It is historic and picturesque. Choosing the right places for a 9 day trip was tough. In the end we didn’t want to spend too much time traveling all over the country, so I just picked a few destinations: a day’s layover in London, a few days in Edinburgh, a day or two in Wigtown, to Stirling, and a day trip to Glasgow.

My mum and I hadn’t traveled together since we went to Peru about 4 years prior and I hadn’t traveled with anyone since. I’m not going to lie: traveling with someone is more difficult for me than traveling solo. There are discussions. Constant discussions. Discussions about where and when to eat, where to walk, when to stop, which train to take, et cetera. Mercifully, my mother pretty much defers to what I want to do, but out of the need to be (or to appear to be) considerate, there are discussions that must be had.

The first of those discussions happened when we had our layover in London. I’ve been to London. I lived there. But Luba (my mother) had not, so I was excited to show her around the places I used to work and hang out.

I planned a walk around some of the main sights. We got a bit into the walk, though St. James Park, past Buckingham Palace, down the Mall, through Trafalgar Square, to Covent Garden and Soho, and there were plans for more, but we ran out of steam. She hadn’t slept on the plane (a red eye flight from Vancouver) and, while I had, I was tired and cranky. Then it started to rain.

Weirdly happy to see these phone box sex adverts are still a thing.
I remember them from the 90s – back when people still used pay phones

We went to a cute little patisserie in Soho, unable to agree where to go next. If I were alone, I would have kept walking, ceaselessly, until it was time to go to the airport, but Luba wasn’t up for that. Neither of us wanted to go back to the airport early, and the rain didn’t want us to sit in a park or on a patio. Day one and we were on the verge of a quarrel. This does not happen when you travel alone.

But then the perfect solution struck me. What is my solace and comfort? My favorite way to pass a quiet and contemplative time? Cigars. I said, “Well, we could walk over to St. James Street and go to the Dunhill cigar lounge. I could smoke and you could read.” Success! We were both happy. As we walked there the clouds parted. I had an extraordinary limited edition Bolivar and Luba read her book.

Both restored, we went for a bit of a circuitous stroll before going back to the airport.

In the end, we didn’t stick to my plan and cover all of the ground in London that I would have had I been alone, but I got to show my mother a bit of London and we ended up having a nice afternoon.

Solo travel has taught me a lot: how to be strong and self-reliant, how to be content with my own company, how to meet people, and how to constantly step out of my comfort zone. But solo travel has also made me a bit selfish, resistant to compromise, and bossy. I want to do what I want to do. I’m not proud of those things, but I am pleased that I can set them aside (more or less) to still enjoy traveling with my mum.

We went back to the airport and took a short and sleepy flight to Edinburgh.

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Liechtenstein

On my last full day in Zürich, I decided to go to Liechtenstein. Why? Because it is there. A friend of mine, a real opinionated smarty pants, had scoffed at my plan to go to Vaduz, Liechtenstein. He had been there, maybe 10 or 20 years prior, and said “Don’t waste your time. you’ll regret it. There’s NOTHING there.” Of course, I didn’t care if there was anything there worth seeing or not; I had to go. It is a new country, a mere train ride away. I couldn’t resist.

To get from Zürich to Vaduz (capital city), Liechtenstein, you take a train and a bus. I’ll explain briefly, as it wasn’t totally obvious. At the man train station, on the day of (or before if you’re nervous) book a roundtrip ticket from Zürich HB to Vaduz, Post. You can also buy it from an agent in the kiosk. The train will take you to Sargans, just on the Swiss side of the border, and from there you take a bus. It is about 1 hour to Sargans and the scenery is stunning. At the station in Sargans, the bus loop will be obvious. Take bus 11 to Vaduz, Post. The trip will be about 30 minutes and all of the stops are listed on a monitor on the bus. It could not be easier.

The journey was terrific. The scenery was magnificent. Past a shining lake and velvety green farms and gentle hills, tiny villages with castles or churches perched just above them on the highest hill, and, increasingly, snowy mountain ranges. I took pictures, as best I could, through the train window.

In Vaduz, the bus stops just steps from the man drag, which is really all there is to see. It’s not much, but perfectly adequate for an afternoon. There is a church, a few different museums, cafes and restaurants, and an occupied castle looming above. Liechtenstein is some kind of “democratic monarchy”, which I think is another way of saying oxymoron.

I only visited one museum, the modern art museum, which i recommend, if you like that sort of thing. I took my pictures, slowly ate a raspberry tart and smoked a cigar in the warm spring sun (trying to protect my eyes from the group of men in spandex cycling attire at the table next to me. Blech.), and paid €3 to have my passport stamped at the info booth.

A few hours and I was satisfied. I think if one was keen to experience more of Liechtenstein, it might be nice to go to some other towns that look a bit more quaint, but my time was running short, and I had accomplished what I set out to do. It was a lovely day. (In your face, know-it-all friend.)

Back to Zürich, I walked around more, for no particular reason, except that the weather was perfect, and all of these little neighborhood joints started to open up and they all looked so appealing. I stopped and had a bowl of soup at one, and a glass of wine and a cigar at another. I finished the evening on a pedestrian street near my air bnb, outside of an Italian restaurant which was closed, but had left their outdoor tables and chairs out. I had a cigar and watched local residents go about their Sunday evening business.

It was a great end to my trip.

This morning I awoke and had breakfast with my airbnb hosts, who insisted on making me breakfast: muesli with apples and yogurt, tiny cups of strong coffee and squares of dark chocolate.

And then I was off to the airport.

Currently flying to Vancouver. The woman ahead of me has reclined her seat all the way and keeps stretching her fat arms over her head and reaching back and grabbing the top of the back of her chair, blocking my tv. If she keeps this up, I may lick her hand.

It has been a great trip: Tunisia, with a dash of Switzerland, and a pinch of France and Liechtenstein. Thoroughly satisfying. Not happy to be going home. Never happy to be going home, but at least I get to plan a new trip.

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8 hours in Lyon

It makes absolutely no sense. I wanted to fly from Montasir (the airport near Sousse, Tunisia to Djerba, Tunisia. The flight should have taken an hour. Maybe. The buses were too slow and the train doesn’t go to the island of Djerba, so I was set on flying and doing so today. Well, the only flight that came up in multiple searches was a flight from Montasit, to Lyon, France, and to Djerba. It seemed ludicrous…but the flight did offer an 8 hour layover in Lyon. That was appealing. I haven’t been to France in years and never to Lyon. So I booked it.

When I arrived at the airport for my 6:30am flight, the guys at check in thought it was crazy. One even offere

d to put me on a flight that connected in Tunis, but I declined. I was already looking forward to a coffee in the old city.

An 8 hour layover doesn’t mean 8 hours of walking around Lyon. It means 5 hours max. There are a few tricks to these just-long-enough-to-leave-the-airport layovers. I try to check in for both flights at the beginning and check my bag through to the end, so I’m not messing around with bag collection and checking in. That wasn’t possible for this flight, so I took my bag as a carry on and left it in the luggage storage at the train station. I also study ahead of time. If you’ve only got a half day, there isn’t time to figure out when you are there what you want to see or do. So I do my homework and determine what areas I want to visit and what I want to see and how I am going to get around. If I can (as I did in Lyon), I buy my transit tickets online ahead of time and I get foreign currency before landing so I don’t have to waste time in queues. And most importantly, I study maps intently. Like I am planning a bank job. I want to know, as much as possible, what exit to take from the metro and which bridge to walk across and what street to turn left on when I get to the other side. This satisfies both my desire to make good use of my short layover and my fondness for maps.

It all worked well today. I probably could have even spent another hour in the city but I didn’t want to risk missing my plane.

I took the express airport train and then the metro to Vieux Lyon; the old city…and also the most touristy, but it is popular with visitors for a reason. The streets are so charming, with old buildings hung with old signs, narrow lanes lined with cheese shops and quaint cafés, patisseries, and churches.

And overlooking it all is a cathedral on a hill.

I walked up and down the streets, stopping for a coffee and a pink praline tart – apparently Lyonnaise specialty. So good and disgustingly sweet.

I walked down the river for a bit, photographing churches and buildings.

Back on to the Rue Ste Jean, looking for number 53 or 54 and for a plain door, which would lead to one of the many traboules – hidden passages which lead between buildings to other streets and also to private residences. There are apparently 315 of them, but only a few are accessible or known to the public. According to the good book (Lonely Planet) some of them date to Roman times and the rest were in the 19th century. It was indeed a long passage, in some places providing access to apartments. Who doesn’t love secret passages? If only i had to pull a candlestick to gain access.

I then took the funicular up to the Basilica Notre Dame de Fourvière, which is a beautiful 19th century cathedral overlooking the city. There were priests wandering around, as well as worshippers, but they were outnumbered by tourists, so I was able to take pictures.

I then walked to Place Bellecour and took the train to Hotel de Ville to see some of the fancy buildings in that area.

At that point i headed back to the airport. I probably could have spent another hour, but I didn’t want to be rushing to catch my flight. I saw what I wanted to see, had an afternoon in France, and was on my way back to Tunisia.

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Lucerne

I awoke on day two in Switzerland to grey skies. I had a coffee and picked up some breakfast from my favorite eatery in Zurich – the local supermarket. (It’s preferable to spending a small fortune on coffee and breakfast.) Made a bee-line to the train station and caught a morning train to Lucerne. It was scheduled to leave at 4mins past the hour and at exactly that time, it started to roll. About 45 minutes later we arrived in Lucerne with Swiss precision.

I think I did the right thing by not going to Lucerne on a weekend, when it is teeming with tourists I am told. Things weren’t too busy on a Monday morning and i managed to get ahead of the one bus group I spied. To be fair to the tourists, it wasn’t like i was there to do research; we were all walking around photographing the same buildings. I’m just happier doing it away from other people.

The draw for Lucerne is that it is a charming town, easily walkable, with a number of old, decorative buildings, and a notable covered bridge. It is a perfect day trip from Zurich.

The day started out cold and grey, but finished up cold and sunny. Regardless, I Loved wandering the town. Every turn revealed some beautifully painted building, ornate fountain, or church square. There was one church in particular that had these huge, carved, wooden doors, one of which opened slowly when i approached it…but there was no one on the other side. “(The holy) ghosts!” I thought, but i watched as a couple walked in about 5 minutes after me and the door opened for them too, so I figured it was an automatic thing, which made more sense. Still though, it’s a creepy feature; like a petty miracle to convince non-believers to sign up. God saw you coming and he says, Come in.

There were no hi-jinx or misadventures; it was just lovely. I walked a million steps and then climbed up a bunch of stairs to get a better look at some ramparts (they don’t merit close inspection, as it turns out, but the walk was nice).

I had lunch from the supermarket. (Was going to splurge on daal and rice but couldn’t justify the expense). More walking until i felt like i had visited every historical sight in the city, at which point i trained back to Zurich.

I chilled at my abode for a couple hours and had coffee with my host. We discussed, amongst other things how expensive Zurich is (including its health care apparently, which surprised me) and how much we hate the current administration of the U.S.

In the evening i went to another cigar lounge – Manuel’s. it was very busy with business type men. I loved the room and the cigar selection but did’t find it as friendly as the lounge from the previous night. Still, sitting in a cigar-smoking room without judgment (and, in this case, also enjoying a coffee martini) is a rare treat.

The next day i was supposed to fly to Tunis in the morning but my flight was delayed until the evening, so i had a bonus day. I really wanted to go to to this medical museum where they have wax figures showing various diseases (it looks awesome) but it is only open Wednesdays and Fridays, so i walked all the banks of the centre of town (which lies along two rivers and with a lake at the end), enjoying the sun.

I went to the museum, which is small enough to be manageable and has some good exhibits, but is terribly organized. I had to ask for directions multiple times after the second floor completely disappeared.

Finally i had a cigar on the Bahnofstrasse in the sun and people watched until it was time for my train to the airport. (Again, i didn’t want to spend $30 on a sandwich and coffee.) I was particularly baffled how the people in Zurich really don’t dress any differently from the people in Vancouver, but they look so much better. Better jeans? Nicer sneakers? Or maybe it is because they are all thin – probably because they can’t afford to eat much.

On to Tunis.

Europe Switzerland Tunisia Trip 2018

Zurich

Zürich is one of those places that I never had any interest in. Or it’s not that I was disinterested; I just didn’t give it much thought. I figured Switzerland would be lovely but not life-changing. It seemed like a perfect place to spend a couple of days en route to Tunisia. A couple days of charming Cobble-stoned streets, pan au chocolat, and ornate churches before the real vacation begins. Plus, it’s a chance to go somewhere new.

As I write this I am in a smokey cigar room in Zürich (Manuel’s) smoking an H.Upmann magnum 50 and surrounded by men smoking, drinking, and conversing in German. I know it is an unpopular opinion, but I find German to be a very…appealing sounding language. I am happy.

I arrived yesterday morning. Early. Having flown from Vancouver I slept only a couple hours on the plane and only a couple the night before. I was somewhat delirious, but delighted. Zürich was -is- lovely. Pretty, decorative buildings, cute storefronts, calm squares, and rows of enticing cafés. The sun was out. I had taken the train from the airport and emerged in the light at the end of the Bahnhofstrasse – the main thoroughfare through the old town. My first sight was a Davidoff cigar store and lounge. I had chosen my destination wisely.

The hotels and even the hostels were all too expensive, so I opted for an Airbnb, at an apartment shared with its owner in the middle of the old town. I met my host by accident on the street near his building. A nice fellow, he showed me my accommodations, which were more that adequate. Certain friends of mine were certain he would murder me, as his Airbnb listing had no reviews and after i booked it he deleted the listing. Nearly 48 hours later and i am still alive.

After getting settled, i set off to explore the old city. It is exactly what one would expect. Very pretty and great for walking. The wide streets give way to winding pedestrian alleys, lined with antique shops, clothiers, watch shops. Eventually one inevitably finds their way to the river (the Limmet ) which winds through the city, various narrow bridges linking the sides, swans gliding underneath. The sun was shining and , although the city was extremely quiet, there were people out strolling and riding bikes, drinking coffee and smoking cigarettes along the banks.

I walked for hours, stopping for the odd coffee, stopping to visit churches and squares. Finally, i stopped for lunch at Haus Hitl, apparently the oldest vegetarian restaurant in the world. (Very good, but too many choices for me.)

I then walked back across the river to visit the Kunsthaus, an art museum. It was good. I recommend it. The problem was, at that point I was severely exhausted. I refuse to nap when arriving half way around the world. It is important to commit to the local schedule to combat lingering jet lag. But i was suffering. I had, about an hour, earlier nodded off over a coffee at the Café Voltaire. At the Kunsthaus I literally started to fall asleep on my feet several times and then dozed on a bench while gazing at a Kandinsky. It was rough.

I revived myself at the Hotel Storchen, where they have a perfect cigar lounge. Cozy, well stocked and staffed, with medieval stained glass windows and jazz music. I smoked a Bolivar and chatted with a man formerly of Canada, now a citizen of the world. I walked back to my abode in the dark and collapsed with exhaustion.

A couple of observations. Zurich is small and quiet. A day or two would be sufficient to take in its sights. Stores (ALL stores) close on Sunday by law. No supermarkets, pharmacies, convenience stores…nothing. Just bars, cafes, restaurants, and churches are open. Prostitution is legal. I haven’t seen a single beggar or homeless person (i assume they exist, but i haven’t seen any). Much more German is spoken than French. And it is super expensive. A coffee in a not fancy café averages $7, more for a cappuccino. A lentil curry at a shabby Indian restaurant is about $30. My round trip train ticket to Lucerne (45 minutes each way, in the cheap class) was $75. Other than my lunch at Haus Hitl, all my meals have been from supermarkets. An apple, piece of cheese and pretzel was $13. I’m thankful i brought some coffee and cliff bars with me. Cigars, thankfully, are the only reasonably priced item i have found.

The other saving grace is that the water here is drinkable and the city is filled with these stunning fountains from which you can fill your water bottle. So i’m hydrated, but a bit hungry. Tunisia will be a serious bargain by comparison.

Belgium Burkina Faso Trip 2016 Europe

In Bruges and Back to Brussels

My trip to Burkina Faso is ending the way it began: in Belgium. I returned yesterday quite late after my day layover in Istanbul. I was knackered, but i couldn’t resist taking a stroll around the square and surrounding streets, which had been decorated for Christmas since i was here two weeks ago.

It goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway: Belgium is a world away from Ouagadougou. Sidewalks, trash bins, tap water, frigid and clean air, cafes that look like cafes, people that don’t pay a bit of attention to me. I love the noise and excitement of Burkina Faso, but right now i am really appreciating the more familiar environment of western Europe, partly because i got to have a very long, very hot shower.

This morning i woke up very early and caught a train to Bruges. An hour and a half past quaint rural areas and small towns. From the station in Bruges it is a short walk to the Market Square. The square is beautiful, like so many European squares, ringed with narrow, pointy buildings in bright colours, housing inviting eateries and tea houses, imposing and intricate state buildings and throngs of picture snapping visitors.

But this was a but different because the square was filled with a Christmas market. An ice rink, decorations, and wooden booths hung with icicle lights selling food and knick knacks.

I wandered around the area, and over to the equally beautiful Berg square where i visited a beautiful and thankfully warm church.

I then followed the canals, stopping for breakfast at the most charming tiny cafe, all aglow in candles and Christmas.

I walked around aimlessly down the picturesque cobbled streets, stopping to take a million pictures. Locals walked dogs and rode bicycles. Tourists consulted maps and gazed upward.

I visited the estate housing the small but very pretty Jerusalem church, where the ticket seller thought i was under 26 and tried to sell me a discounted ticket. (I think it was the hat.)

In the church was a tiny little room with candles and relics where people had placed pictures of people for whom they prayed, i assume. I don’t pray of course, but i happened to have a tiny picture of me in my wallet (i take one when i travel because sometimes you need them for getting visas at the border). I placed it there amongst the others, singeing the corners to make it look old and worn. So if you visit that church you might see my face looking pious and prayed for.
I stopped in at an inviting looking tavern for a bowl of turnip soup and discovered that it is apparently the oldest tavern in the world, being over 500 years old. It was charming and the soup exactly what i needed.

Another square had more booths and decorations and the most amazing carousel i have ever seen – sort of a steam punk miracle of creatures/machine hybrids flying and crawling as it whirled. Unfairly, it was limited to kids 12 and under.

I walked and sipped hot chocolate until i could no longer tolerate the crowds.

I leave for Vancouver, via London, tomorrow afternoon; sad because i wish i could stay in Europe or take off somewhere exotic. Instead i will head home to email, work, and plans for the next trip.

Burkina Faso Trip 2016 Europe Turkey

13 hours in Istanbul

I said good bye to Burkina Faso and flew to Istanbul, arriving at about 7:00 am and having a 13 hour layover. This was perfect. I love Istanbul, but had not been there since my 2009 Turkey trip. I paid for a visa and passed swiftly through immigration. Then i was on the Metro. I switched to the tram and about an hour and a half after landing i was in Sultanahmet, gazing on the Blue Mosque and the Aya Sophia.

The city looked in many ways as i remembered, and the basic layout was easy to navigate. I wandered around and found myself on a street that looked like a cleaned up version of the street on which i spent every evening seven years ago, smoking shisha. There were lots of restaurants and i seated myself at the one which most appealed. During my breakfast, chatting with the waiter, i learned that this was the street i remembered, and that it had just gotten fancier. I remembered that there is a picture of me on the blog from my last trip to Istanbul, standing with a hookah in front of my regular joint. I pulled it up and the waiter called the owner over and it was the same place. It had changed a bit, but was basically the same and i had gravitated to it without knowing. This earned me free coffee in exchange for the promise to return again someday.

Istanbul is definitely cleaner and more organized that i remember. Better street signs and more tourist infrastructure. More international shops. These things detract a bit from the atmosphere, but it is still a great city. I love walking the streets past all of the super appealing shops selling scarves, lanterns, hookahs, and pottery. I love the cafes and the ubiquitous cats. And the exquisite calls to prayer that echo out over the city.

It was chilly, especially compared to Burkina Faso, but the cool air felt so refreshing.

I got lured into a lengthy Turkish coffee session with a carpet seller, which was pleasant and i managed to walk carpet-less, which is a small victory.

I then headed for the Grand Bazaar, where i became wonderfully lost amongst the stalls of crafts, handiwork, spices, and sweets. I then had mint tea with a seller of meerschaum pipes. I did not leave empty handed this time.

I finished the day off down my the Blue Mosque again, with a hookah of double apple shisha and just relaxed until i felt it was time to return to the airport.

A delightful day. I hope it is not another seven years before i return.

Wandering North

Category: Europe

Wigtown, Scotland

To Wigtown, Scotland by Train and Bus

Edinburgh, Scotland

An Afternoon in London, Or ‘How Solo Travel Has Made Me A Bit Of A Jerk’

Liechtenstein

8 hours in Lyon

Lucerne

Zurich

In Bruges and Back to Brussels

13 hours in Istanbul