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(De) “Do a nice curtsy!”, I was regularly asked as a child when visitors came to our house or when we visited distant relatives or friends. I would be trained in curtsy as soon as I could safely stand on my chubby little legs. After all, one had style and knew how to behave. I should be distinguished and ladylike. A curtsy girl was a sign of a well-behaved and good family. My maternal grandmother was behind this strict code of etiquette. For some reason, she attached great importance to very good behaviour. This is actually surprising because she came from a peasant family that wasn’t particularly delicate. However, since her youth, my grandmother had no desire at all for stable work. That’s why she hired herself out in the princely household of Thurn & Taxis, first as a kitchen maid and then as a chambermaid. Her enthusiastic stories about life in the castle accompanied my childhood and I also sensed that my grandmother would have liked the noble way of life very much. She considered herself a bit more distinguished than her surroundings, even if only inwardly. She attached great importance to good manners, even though she was relatively poor. For me, this meant that in addition to the curtsy that all girls had to perform in the 1950s, there were several rules of etiquette. "Greetings by name and look into the eyes" For example, when greeting an adult I had to consider quite a few things. A simple vague “Grüß Gott”, mumbled in the air, was not enough. “Always greet first and loudly and clearly, say the person’s name and look them into the eyes!” was my grandmother’s daily instruction when I left home. Since we lived on the top floor of an apartment building, this proved to be quite tricky. If, as often was the case, three neighbours were standing together on the ground floor having a chat, I had to disturb their intimate gathering if I wanted to follow my grandmother’s rules of etiquette. And of course, I wanted to. “Greetings, Mrs Weinzierl, greetings, Mrs Karl, greetings, Mrs Holzmann,” I called to the group and looked each neighbour deeply in the eye. “Greetings, Tanja!” each one replied dutifully and I was released from the greeting ceremony and could head outside. Afterwards, the women probably didn’t know exactly where they had just stopped their interesting conversation. Anyway, it had to be like that in a good house. Some neighbours caused me embarrassment, for example, when I ran around the street, absorbed in my game, and forgot to greet someone I knew first. A “Greetings-Tanja!” could then be addressed to me in a reproachful tone. “Don’t you know me any more?” was added somewhat teasingly. I don’t know what people were thinking. I guess they all felt more or less like co-guardians?! " Does the aunt get a Bussi (bavarian for kiss)?" Back then, in the 1950s, it never occurred to any adult in Germany to greet each other with kisses on the cheek. Kisses were reserved for close relatives and festive days. Basta! A kissing society did not yet exist in Germany. Except for us kids! If you were unlucky, then in the exuberance of a successful coffee party with a rather unknown great-aunt, you were sometimes asked: “Does Aunt Mare, Anne, Rose … get a kiss?” I didn’t yet know the expression for this kind of question, but the intention revealed itself to me instinctively: this question was purely rhetorical. A ‘no’ was not really accepted, and the adults kept whining until one gave in and was then also cuddled rather badly out of sheer joy. The good hand It was easier to shake hands unless you were left-handed. There was one good hand and the other hand. You had to offer the good hand for an appropriate greeting. The good hand was of course the right hand. That was not negotiable. The other hand, the left hand, was bad and no one wanted to take it and shake it. No reason was given for the disdain for the left hand. As children of the 1950s, we didn’t seem to have questioned these rules. When visitors came to our house or we visited someone, I strictly adhered to the rehearsed greeting ritual: shake hands, curtsey, speak the greeting phrase loudly and clearly, address the person by name and look into their eyes. I was able to do that. Unlike my little cousin, who obviously detested the whole ritual. He didn’t even have to do the complicated curtsy – bend one knee and bend the other knee backwards. The bow of the head, followed, in moderation, by the upper part of the body, had been invented for boys. Real gentlemen did bow when they introduced themselves. Only my cousin didn’t like it. He preferred to hide when he was at risk of having to go through the greeting ceremony, or even worse, the farewell ceremony with a request for a kiss. Reciting poems I, on the other hand, always rose to the challenge and was therefore also given the dubious honour of reciting poems at various festive events. My mother had a booklet that was always consulted on birthdays, weddings and even funerals to find thoughtful and appropriate texts. Since I couldn’t read yet, they would practise with me until I knew the verses by heart and then put me in front of jubilarians or wedding parties or whatsoever, where I would dutifully recite the rhymes whose meaning I didn’t understand. There was always some female relative lurking in the background with the poetry booklet in her hand, just in case I got stuck. To this day it is a complete mystery to me as to why this charade was done. Who should have enjoyed it? Was it a demonstration of educational achievement? Was it to show appreciation for those being honoured? I always sensed that the esteemed honourees were just putting on a good face for a dull game. But I may be wrong. I, as a child, felt stupid and had to believe that the adults knew what they were doing. However, I doubt that. Because once, as a little girl, I had to recite a poem at the funeral of a small child. I can’t imagine that this was really comforting for the mother, other than being well-intentioned. Noble reserve The refined nature of a family was also evident in its table culture. At my grandmother’s house, even snacks were never eaten out of the wrapping paper. The table was always set neatly and forks were used to pick up the sausages. No one was never allowed to use one’s fingers. If the bread was buttered and topped with sausage slices, you were allowed to use your hands. But not at my aunt’s and her husband’s house in Frankfurt. Being the household of a banker in an executive position, they were really posh. They not only ate lunch with knife and fork but also the sausage sandwich. Hands, even when scrupulously washed, were never allowed to come into direct contact with food at the table. So dinner was a real challenge for me. A round Knackwurst or Regensburger (a typical Bavarian sausage), which my uncle loved to eat, would often slip across the table. But my aunt worked hard on my lady-like behaviour and I lost my appetite. I always came back from my visits to Frankfurt slimmer than I was before I went there. In my childhood, fine table manners seemed to be a sign of social advancement. Anyone who was self-respecting kept moderation. Again, there were strict rules that were not easy to follow, especially for hungry children when it came to their favourite dishes. You had to eat what was on your plate. But what was not yet on your plate could not simply be taken. Everybody at the table had to ask if they could have some more of this or that dish. This was usually not a problem if there was still plenty of everything. On the contrary, it made the housewife proud if people enjoyed her food and asked for more. Yet, when it came to the last piece of meat, dumplings, cakes, etc., the situation was different, rather complicated. When the hostess offered the leftover piece around the table everyone refused. Dinner table etiquette dictated that you did not take the last piece if offered, even though you were hungry or wanted to snatch it off the plate. Only the last person to be asked had a real chance. He was able to grab it courageously with a “Yes, I don’t mind if I do!” and look good at the same time. Whilst the others were forced to agree, grudgingly, but with graciousness. This egg dance about the rules of table etiquette has always puzzled me. So many conflicting signals were sent out so that as a child you didn’t know what was appropriate behaviour and what was not. For example, I remember one afternoon in December when my parents, my grandmother and I were visiting one of my grandmother’s old friends. She had put a plate of gorgeous biscuits on the table and asked everyone, but especially me, to take plenty. So everyone took one biscuit each, praised the taste and texture, and then no one took any more and the conversation went on. In my head, however, I was arguing with my alter ego. “The biscuits are really good and there are still lots of them on the table,” went through my head. “Yeah, but everyone only took one, so you only get to take one!” the other one admonished. “But Auntie said I could eat as much as I wanted,” I grumbled. “That’s just what they say,” the other one enlightened me. “It would be rude for you to take another one without asking.” “But I can’t ask, because children aren’t allowed to interrupt adults in their conversation. And they’re talking non-stop all the time!” I objected annoyed. “Accept it, you won’t get any more!” said the other one. That was too much. I just grabbed one more, hoping that no one would notice anyway as they were so busy with their conversation. Big mistake! I had to leave the table and was ostracised, but not by the friendly hostess. She kept saying that she had put the biscuits on the table to be eaten. None of this helped! I had broken a rule of etiquette. But I have to say, it was still worth it. The biscuits were really delicious. Times have changed - no rules any more? Today, thank goodness, the curtsy and the bow only exist if you are invited to the Queen, for example, which happens extremely rarely, especially in Germany. I also think that nowadays children are no longer forced to give the “good hand” or kisses, but I may be wrong! Overall, I have the impression that today there are fewer rules of politeness or etiquette being imposed on children. As a teacher, I have often experienced that the pupils usually greet you happily and gladly when you run into them somewhere. Quite naturally. These days, however, the neighbourhood children see no need to greet me, even if I first address them with a friendly hello. We all see each other every day, but we are strangers. At least, that’s how it is in the big city. I get the impression that politeness and good manners no longer represent a great value in our society. The grown-ups often don’t behave as role models in public. For instance, when passing a swinging door, very few people look back to see if someone is following them and hold the door a little longer until the other person can take it over. It happens to me time and again that the door slams shut in my face. Or conversely, quite a few people even slip past me through the door I’m holding. But I never hear them saying thank you. I wonder if they think anything of it. In any case, it is a blessing that these hypocritical and absurd dinner table rules are no longer so strictly enforced. In our family, at any rate, there is no longer enforced shy restraint when it comes to eating the last piece of food. And plates of biscuits empty as if by magic. If everyone wants the last piece of food, we share it. If you express your wishes, you can have them fulfilled, I would say. (TA) It would be interesting to know if there were other or even more strict rules of etiquette in other families or other countries.

(DE) The youngest member of my circle of friends, three-year-old Bobby, is almost bursting with excitement waiting for Father Christmas. Then, on the evening of 24 December 2021, salvation comes in the form of lights on the Christmas tree and presents underneath. Christmas Dream of the Year 2022 Wishes come true, and you even get toys you didn’t ask for. The whole family is joyfully excited. Everyone unwraps something and is honestly or theatrically surprised. There is good food and sweets, and everyone seems happy and content with the sounds of Christmas in the background. This experience will shape Bobby’s memory of Christmas, year after year. My childhood Christmas memories go back over 60 years, in the 50s and 60s. Of course, the excitement and anticipation of Christmas Eve when the Christkindl (the Infant Jesus) would come was beautiful in my childhood. Still, otherwise, there were small but subtle differences. The Christkindl was the star – no one knew Father Christmas. 1953: First Christmas Christmas was mystical for me because to us children of the 50s, the Christkindl came. Who it was and what it looked like, nobody really knew. A mixture of baby Jesus and an angel? There was a story that he flew in, conveniently through the window, and quickly put the presents under the Christmas tree. Then, when curious children peeped through the keyhole of the door of the Christmas room, which was usually the living room or, in our case, the kitchen, to catch a glimpse of the Christkindl, he would take the presents away again. A very nasty threat. That’s why I pinched my eyes shut while waiting for the Christkindl so I wouldn’t accidentally catch a glimpse of him. Each kindergarten performed a nativity play. At least when I was a kindergarten child, I had already seen the Christkindl: At the nativity play that every self-respecting kindergarten put on. The newborn baby Jesus lay in the cot in the form of a baby doll or wax figure and was called Christkindl (Infant Christ). Christmas was a Christian festival in Bavaria in the 1950s. Mary and Joseph’s search for shelter, the newly born baby Jesus in the stable, surrounded by his parents and adored by the shepherds, the appearance of the Star of Bethlehem and the visit of the Three Kings from the Orient Kaspar, Melchior and Balthasar were staged as an annual play for parents and children in the kindergarten, at school and in church. Almost every child was able to get a part to play. If the acting talent was not enough for Mary and Joseph, they could play the ox and donkey. At least they didn’t have to learn any lines. The meaning of the celebration became apparent to a child. It was the birthday of the baby Jesus, and on birthdays you get presents, in this case representing Jesus, so to speak. There was no Father Christmas who gave out presents for no reason and didn’t even ask if you had earned them by behaving well. Instead, St. Nicholas, who on the evening of 5 December paraded through the streets with his servant Ruprecht to reward children, attached great importance to being reassured that a child had behaved well throughout the year. That one had not indulged in bad habits, such as sucking one’s thumb or being a picky eater. Sometimes even other family members were interviewed as witnesses. And all the time, his servant Ruprecht beside him threatened to beat children who had misbehaved with his stick or was ready to put them into the sack he had brought with him. St. Nicholas, on the other hand, was prepared to hand over any amount of sweets once he was convinced that you’d earned it. This bearded man with a bishop’s mitre was the precursor of the Infant Jesus. He could be seen and touched, feared and loved, and sometimes he bore an amazing resemblance to an uncle or family friend. Sometimes, perhaps when he was in a hurry, he would leave his gifts outside the door and ring the doorbell, just when Dad had just gone down to the cellar to get a beer. Yes, those were the fascinating, mysterious Christmas legends of my childhood. Is there a conclusive legend about Father Christmas from the North Pole? I don’t know. Present-giving marathon on Christmas Eve But then, as now, the lowest common denominator of Christmas was and still is: Family celebration! Even my rather quarrelsome family tried hard to keep something like Christmas peace, which at times led to strange rituals. During the first years of my life, I remember that Christkindl came in all three times on Christmas Eve. It seemed to be mainly occupied with me and my presents. Just after getting dark, I was sent out from my maternal grandmother’s kitchen into the freezing bedroom because the adults had heard the soft tinkling of the angels accompanying the Christkindl outside the window. And lo and behold, the little bell rang out shortly afterwards. The radio played “Silent Night, Holy Night…”, the candles on the wonderfully decorated Christmas tree lit up, the sparklers, which are forbidden nowadays, gave off sparks. 1954: The most beautiful thing was the Christmas tree There was the smell of pine needles, wax and wonder candles. I almost forgot from the amazement and awe that there were toys for me under the tree. When I had recovered from the shock and wanted to start playing, everything had to be packed up because the next stop was two doors down. At my paternal grandparents’ house, the Christkindl had already arrived before us. When we were still on our way upstairs to grandma and grandpa’s, “Silent Night, Holy Night…” was already ringing through the hallway. And again, the Christmas tree was shining, and sparks were flying in the kitchen. Again there were toys and this time also clothes underneath. It smelled of candles and pine needles here too. I was suitably amazed again, but no longer so surprised, and got my hopes up for being allowed to play a little. 1955: Mysterious, this Christmas miracle! But no! As before, everything had to be packed up again. We drove home to the flat that my parents and I lived in together, more or less only at weekends. During the first years of my life, my father worked away from home during the week, and my mother worked as a saleswoman from morning to night. So I lived with my maternal grandmother. But at Christmas, we were together in our flat, and there was the ultimate final gift-giving session. This time we were quicker on the scene and arrived before the Christkindl. But my parents had this seventh sense that it must be coming soon. And lo and behold, the sound of “Silent night, holy night…” could be heard. There were candles and sparklers on the tree, presents under the tree. All the familiar rituals were performed again— for the third time. I could not bring myself to marvel excessively, but it was nice to be able to play and eat sweets in peace. My mother had the talent of preparing beautiful lavish Christmas plates. She also went through the trouble of hanging biscuits, colourful sugar- and chocolate-coated stars in the tree. It was like a land of milk and honey for me. 1956: Last stop - Parental home It’s fair to ask why this marathon of handing out presents was organised in my family during my toddler phase in this way. I can only explain it like this. Triple Christmas stress for my working mother My mother worked as a saleswoman in a clothing shop and therefore had to work until 2 pm on Christmas Eve. In the previous four weeks before Christmas, the Advent, the Saturdays had been so-called “long Saturdays”, meaning the shops were open until 6 pm six days a week. Usually, in the 50s and 60s, shops had to close at noon on Saturdays. Only once a month were they allowed to stay open until evening. But at Christmas, people were supposed to be given enough time and opportunity to shop all they could. Oh, joyous consumer world! But the shop assistants had to cope with the shopping frenzy of the years of the economic miracle. So they stood in the shops until the bitter end, in this case until early afternoon on 24 December, and served stressed Christmas present shoppers at the last minute. Today, extended opening hours are made possible by shift work. Back then, the Christmas extravaganza was simply part of the job. So while my father and I passed the time at my grandparents’ house and developed a Christmas feeling with biscuits, stollen and storytelling, my mother sold shirts, ties and socks that were bound to end up under the Christmas tree. We were all relaxed and looking forward to Christmas, and then my mother arrived! Restlessness and stress on two legs! The handkerchief in my mother's hand is an indication of tears of exhaustion. She could have left the organisation of Christmas Eve to one of the grandmothers, but that was not in her nature. For better or worse, she wanted to stage the ideal Christmas with peace and shining child’s eyes according to her ideas. Everyone else, however, didn’t want to be nagged and did their own thing. So it came that I had to go Christmas-hopping at its finest. That was exciting in itself and the Christmas of that time is a magical memory. In one of those Christmas kitchens, we had sausages with sauerkraut and Schwarzer-Kipferl (special crusty rolls from the local bakery, Schwarzer), followed by a punch for the grown-ups. I don’t remember exactly where it was because I didn’t give a damn. The main thing was Christmas! 1957: A shop, a doll's house and even a doll's bathroom. In reality, we didn't have a bathroom yet. 1958: My doll children were also given presents by the Christ Child. Jealousy endangered the Christmas peace But there was another reason for this triple Christmas special: jealousy! The poles that were at odds with each other were my mother and her mother-in-law, my paternal grandmother. While my mother tried to put herself and her own mother, who just wanted to relax and enjoy her peace and quiet, in the foreground of the Christmas spectacle, my other grandmother instantly and relentlessly complained about being left behind. It was essential to her that her gifts to me were associated with her. Also, that she was the exclusive beneficiary of the child’s beaming eyes and that the ambience was designed according to her ideas. Therefore, there was only one solution to maintain Christmas peace, namely separate Christmases. At the beginning of the 60s, we finally had a living room and a bathroom. And these were the gifts at that time A few years later, when I was about 9 or 10 years old, Christmas peace was often not good. My parents now owned a modern three-room flat with a living room. That’s why all the grandparents met at our house on Christmas Eve. No more Christmas hopping! But my mother was still working in sales and came home exhausted and stressed out in the afternoon. Ideally, she would have needed some peace and quiet first, but the happy grandparents arrived almost simultaneously. They all expected a peaceful and harmonious Christmas atmosphere, thus stressing my mother even more. Palpable tensions were smouldering! But my mother always managed to get through the whole Christmas programme. The row usually came after the presents had been given. The jealous ladies had been eyeing each other to see if there were any reasons to be jealous. Jealous of better gifts, jealous of joy over a gift, jealous of anything. Little as I was, I tried to help to avoid a bad atmosphere on Christmas. I learned to show as much joy as possible with each gift, turn on the sparkle in my eyes, find appreciative words, look at each present for the same length of time, and treat it with mindfulness. I also listened with interest to my grandmother’s explanations of the quality and expense of her gifts. I affirmed that I was delighted that exquisite bed linen could now be added to my dowry again, which I would appreciate very much. Well, peace before sincerity! Our international Christmas today In the meantime, I have experienced many very different Christmases. When I was a student and lived in a shared flat, we celebrated without a Christmas tree but with a Christmas goose stitched together while playing cards. Then, of course, when my son was little, the magical Christmas spirits came back to life. Later, I spent many a Christmas alone, but that didn’t bother me much. My son, now grown up, lived in Asia for a few years and remembered that his heart was always heavy at Christmas and that he would have liked to be with his parents, father, stepmother and mother. Today it is like that. We have our own rituals, which are pretty international. First, we have a traditional Bavarian Christmas Eve with sausages and potato salad and have presents under the Christmas tree, brought by the Christkindl. Then, in the good old American tradition, we jointly raid our Christmas stockings filled with trinkets while still in our dressing gowns on Christmas Day. After that, the American stepmother and I cook the American turkey dinner all day, which we then ceremoniously eat in the evening. And finally, for the past six years, our Thai daughter-in-law has been cooking some delicious Thai dishes on Boxing Day. We are all huge fans of our international Christmas. (TA) If you want to learn how to build memories into stories and eventually write them up, you can find an example guide based on this Christmas memory on the page “Becoming an Author”. Link to the guide

Downing Street and Whitehall - Seat of the Prime Minister and the UK Government (UK) What a start to 2022 for Boris Johnson! Hardly a day went by without another revelation about the parties at No. 10 Downing Street during the lockdown. At a time when people were banned from meeting anyone indoors who was not a member of their household or their support bubble, when people were only allowed to go outside for an hour for exercise and essential shopping and meet with no more than one other person. As of 14 January 2022, we know of 16 parties. This includes several Christmas parties, including a Christmas quiz led by the Prime Minister, a few gatherings just to enjoy the beautiful weather in the garden of No. 10 Downing Street and to relax after a long and hard day. We also know of some leaving dos for valued staff. The last and most embarrassing farewell party, with a drinking bout and dancing until the wee hours of the morning, was for the Director of Communications, James Slack, on the eve of Prince Philip’s funeral. In the morning, the Queen sat alone in the choir stalls of Westminster Abbey due to lockdown regulations. What a contrast! Source: How many lockdown parties were held in Downing Street? Timeline: the alleged Government gatherings. 14.1.2022. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-59952395 There were reports of a drinking culture at No. 10 Downing Street and staff smuggling in alcohol from the nearby Coop in suitcases. The bottles were well-wrapped,so they would not rattle as they passed through security. The British public reacted furious and enraged. Members of Parliament were bombarded with letters and emails from angry constituents who, at the time, could not see their seriously ill or dying loved ones, who had suffered hardship because of the lockdown rules but had complied in the interest of the common good. Media headlines condemned the ruling elite’s behaviour, who make rules but think they are above the law, loosely along the lines of “There are binding rules for the people. But for us, these rules are only non-binding options.” The prime minister has been accused of fooling the public. Source: Downing Street Parties: How many wine bottles fit in a suitcase, and other questions. BBC. 1/14-22. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-59959622 Denying, twisting the truth and playing dumb Embarrassing, too, were the excuses and empty apologies. Since the first reports of parties at No. 10 Downing Street surfaced, the prime minister has categorically denied the parties, or at least any knowledge of them, and insisted that all regulations had been followed at all times by him and his staff and cabinet members. When video evidence of a party surfaced, he expressed outrage that such a thing had happened on his watch and condemned such behaviour strongly. He assigned Cabinet Secretary Simon Case to conduct an investigation. However, Simon Case soon stepped down from the task since he had apparently attended one of the parties. Boris was confronted with further allegations, evidence of parties, and rumours of his own involvement. When it came out that Boris Johnson had also been to at least one of the parties, he said he had not known it was a party. He had thought the gathering was a work meeting with colleagues at the end of a long, hard day. When the prime minister finally apologised, it sounded hollow, and no one believed him. He didn’t even have the decency to personally apologise to the Queen for the party on the eve of Prince Philip’s funeral but asked his office to do it for him instead. Later, Boris Johnson explained that he had not known that the garden party on 20 May 2020, to which 100 people had been invited, had violated the lockdown rules. No one had told him that. Moreover, he categorically denied that he had been warned by several staff members that a party in the garden of No 10 Downing Street might violate the lockdown rules. The denial came after his long-time special adviser and close confidant, Dominic Cummings, released a statement agreeing to swear under oath that he and others had expressed concerns to the prime minister about a possible breach of the Covid rules. However, the prime minister ignored all warnings and allowed the party to go ahead. Yet, Boris insists that the 20 May 2020 garden party was a working meeting and no rules were broken. Source: Boris Johnson: nobody warned me No 10 party was against the rules. The Guardian, 18 January 2022. https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2022/jan/18/boris-johnson-nobody-warned-me-no-10-party-was-against-the-rules How pathetic is this!!! First, the Prime Minister doesn’t know his own lockdown rules and regulations, which are known to everyone in the UK, and when they enlighten him, he decides to ignore them! Boris Johnson seems to support an entirely different government regime than one of democracy and the rule of law. “ Either my right honourable friend had not read the rules or did not understand what they meant, and those around him, or they did not think they applied to them. Which was it, Prime Minister?” Former Prime Minister Theresa May’s question to the Prime Minister in the House of Commons session on 31 January 2022 I nternal Investigation – Let the fox guard the henhous e The opposition and his own Conservative party members pressure him to resign after this farce. After all, there are votes to lose! Nevertheless, the Prime Minister intends to sit it out. Boris Johnson and his close allies are asking all critics to wait for the report of Sue Gray, civil servant and Second Secretary of State at the Department for Equality, Housing and Communities. The idea is presumably to gain time and somehow grasp when and how the enquiry report will be published. There is actually hope for Boris Johnson in this regard. The independence and authority of Sue Gray are very questionable despite her excellent reputation. Sue Gray was tasked to establish the facts about those allegedly involved when her boss, Cabinet Secretary Simon Case, who was initially entrusted with this investigation, had to step aside. He had taken part in a Christmas quiz in his office himself and was therefore involved. Sue Gray has a reputation for being thorough and fair in her investigations. But what can she do when her hands are tied? She has no investigative powers. She can’t force witnesses to talk to her. She, therefore, has limited options to establish the facts of the case. Without the revelations in this 2nd week of January in the media and through leaks, she would not even know about most of the parties. On the other hand, establishing the facts should not be tricky, as everyone going in and out of No. 10 Downing Street must be checked by security guards, and there are many cameras. Moreover, every presence and absence should be documented. So why is it taking so long to get data and facts? Turkeys voting for Christmas! Another question is, what will happen with the report? Sue Gray’s job is a fact-finding exercise. Therefore, it is not her job to pass judgement and draw political and legal consequences from the findings. So to whom does Sue Gray hand over her report, and who evaluates the findings? Who decides on guilty and not guilty? Who decides what information is made public and in what form? The answer, which leaves a logically thinking person stunned, is Simon Case and Prime Minister Boris Johnson! How crazy is that? Like turkeys voting for Christmas! The Prime Minister could use Sue Gray’s report as a get-out-of-jail-free card. Find a formal error! Query interpretations of the results! Ignore results or veto them! By the way, this is a common practice of the Prime Minister, as, for example, the enquiry into Priti Patel’s bullying behaviour towards staff has shown. Boris Johnson refers everyone who demands clarification and consequences to the findings of the investigation, which are not yet available. Is he hoping that the scandal can be downgraded to minor misconduct, or does he possibly know that this report will not threaten him? High-ranking officials, politicians, and media representatives rightly fear that the investigation findings could be scrutinised, modified, and reinterpreted by those involved in the events. They, therefore, suggested that instead, an independent person, e.g. a retired judge, should receive Sue Gray’s findings, review them and then make recommendations on how to proceed. Others called for a professional police investigation. Source: The Guardian: No. 10 parties inquiry should have more independence, say former civil servants. 13.01.22. https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2022/jan/13/no-10-parties-inquiry-boris-johnson-sue-gray-former-civil-servants This call for a neutral and objective assessment of enquiry findings is not just a question of decency or common sense. It is a question of separation of powers, the rule of law, and, ultimately, democratic principles. How about a police investigation? When reports emerged of parties at No. 10 Downing Street, concerned opposition MPs asked the Metropolitan Police (Met) to investigate. However, the Met declined to investigate the illegal parties, saying there was no evidence. One email invited 100 staff to a “bring your own booze” event, which the prime minister admitted to attending. Video footage showed the No. 10 Downing Street press office members discussing how to describe the party if asked by the media. The subsequent resignation of Allegra Stratton, the press secretary. Were these deemed not enough evidence for the police to investigate? However, the Met did say they relied on Sue Gray’s report before launching their own investigation. Even as more and more cases came to light and the Good Law Project called for investigations, the police still refused to investigate. Instead, they closed the case despite the blatant disregard for the lockdown rules at No. 10 Downing Street, the seat of government. It looks like the police simply believed the government’s assurances, i.e. the accused, that no rules were broken. Seriously? Is this the usual procedure in criminal cases to believe the accused’s assurance that no law was broken more than circumstantial evidence and witnesses?! In the meantime, the press has done much investigative work for the Met, and more evidence emerges daily. The inaction of the Metropolitan Police seems to suggest that the police, like the ruling elite, have double standards. Not everyone is equal before the law! The Good Law Project is preparing to take legal action to force the Metropolitan Police to do their job. However, there are indications that the police follow a particular strategy regarding compliance with Corona measures. Police rely on persuasion – politicians on punishment In a BBC interview, Justice Minister Dominic Raab said that the police do not usually investigate matters retrospectively for cases going back a year. There is a core of truth in this untrue assertion by the Justice Minister. Of course, the police investigate offences that happened in the past and are not time-barred. Still, in the case of violations of the Covid regulations, the police do not routinely investigate retrospectively. So what does the law say about investigating breaches of the Coronavirus Regulations? According to Crown Prosecution Service guidelines, Covid offences fall under the less severe types of crimes, usually tried in a Magistrates’ Court. The sentencing powers are more limited, and there are also time limits for bringing proceedings. However, for covid offences, the time limit for initiating proceedings is three years of the alleged violation. But usually, the police issue a penalty notice where the offender can pay a fine to avoid criminal proceedings. So under the law, the police can prosecute Covid violations and have done so in many cases, but not retrospectively. No investigations were launched, and no criminal proceedings were initiated when individual political figures violated Covid regulations. Examples include when Dominic Cummings, then special adviser to Boris Johnson, travelled from London to Durham during the first lockdown; or when Matt Hancock, then health minister, was filmed kissing his assistant in the office during Covid social distancing regulations. It was a scandal but without legal consequences. Police authorities said they generally avoided prosecuting Covid violations retrospectively. Instead, they preferred to talk to people and encourage them not to breach the regulations, and only as a last resort did they initiate proceedings and issue fines. Nevertheless, it has been revealed that the Metropolitan Police have investigated several cases of Covid breaches and that more than a dozen Covid breaches have been prosecuted in Westminster Magistrates’ Court since December last year, including those involving parties. Source: https://fullfact.org/law/dominic-raab-police-investigate-downing-street-party/ 08.12.2021. So while the police relied on persuasion, politicians called for denunciation and punishment. In television interviews, Boris Johnson and his cabinet ministers, led by Home Secretary Priti Patel, urged the public to report their friends and neighbours to the police if they broke the lockdown rules, such as exceeding the number of friends or family allowed to meet. What hypocrites! The police fined thousands of people for meeting friends and family members in parks and gardens in violation of the Covid contact restrictions. Perhaps the police should pay them back the money they were fined? Peter Stefanovic, CWU News’ lawyer and filmmaker, has exposed this shocking hypocrisy in a brilliant video clip. See his tweet below. After much public pressure, Metropolitan Police Commissioner Dame Cressida Dick finally announced on Tuesday, 25 January 2022, that the Met would launch a criminal investigation into the parties at No 10 Downing Street. The Met’s decision was welcomed by many who hoped the Partygate affair could soon be cleared up. Sue Gray promised her full co-operation and to hand over her findings to the Met. However, a few days later, when Sue Gray was about to present her report to the Prime Minister, she was asked by the Met only to publish a heavily redacted version of the report. In addition, the Met asked her to delete critical sections dealing with the most severe allegations and her most explosive findings. Why on earth would the Met ask Sue Gray to redact parts of her independent report that everyone eagerly awaited? The Met’s request caused public confusion and an outcry of incredulous anger. Opposition and concerned Tory politicians condemned the Met’s request, indicating a rigged game. The Met defended its decision by arguing that the full publication of the report would interfere with its investigation. However, the Met promised that Sue Gray’s report could be published in full once the police investigation was concluded. Critics warned that this would mean a further delay of weeks, if not months, before the report was fully published. And that delay would benefit Boris Johnson, who hoped that everything would be forgotten by then, or at least the dust would have settled in the public’s eye. Some Tory MPs are currently waiting for the publication of Sue Gray’s report to decide whether to join other rebels within the Conservative Party. This would mean that the Tories intend to replace Prime Minister Johnson with another Tory MP. To set the process in motion, 54 out of 360 Tory MPs (15 %) must submit their vote of no confidence in Boris Johnson in writing to the chair of the “1922 Committee”, the committee of Tory backbenchers. In the subsequent vote within the Tory parliamentary group, the prime minister must win at least 50 % of the votes if he wants to remain in office. However, the rebels are hesitant because if the prime minister gets the necessary votes, he will be immune from further motions of no confidence from his party colleagues for a year. Therefore, undecided Tory MPs may have to wait for the police to complete their investigation. This delay buys Boris Johnson time to work on critics within his own party and keep his party’s base in line by distracting them from the issue. This, in turn, would also keep constituency candidates threatened by the scandal in line with him. No wonder his performance at Prime Minister’s Question Time in Parliament on Wednesday was upbeat and cheerful. When the Leader of the Opposition asked, he promised to publish the report in full, of course. He also laughed it off when the opposition demanded he resigns because a prime minister under investigation by the police for criminal activities was not fit to lead the country. Although the Met’s request was not made public until two days later, on Friday, it can be assumed that Boris had prior knowledge of this. Many Tory politicians privately expressed their concern that public trust in the political system was eroding. Source: Downing Street Parties: Sue Gray won’t wait for police inquiry. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-60177028 On Saturday night, 29 January 2022, critics demanded the Met be removed from the enquiry because of a conflict of interest. Dame Cressida Dick, the Metropolitan Police Commissioner, is the most senior police officer in the country. Her immediate superior is Home Secretary Priti Patel, who owes her office to Boris Johnson. Priti Patel had extended Cressida Dick’s position as police chief for another two years in 2021, despite a series of scandals surrounding Cressida Dick. The plot thickens! There are calls for another person, perhaps a retired police chief, to be put in charge of the Met’s investigation. Source: Conservatives accused of ‘levelling up’ stunt to save Boris Johnson’s job. https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2022/jan/29/conservatives-accused-of-levelling-up-stunt-to-save-boris-johnsons-job . 29 January 2022. What is the message of this tug-of-war over investigations into the government? Clearly, there is a lack of objective, independent scrutiny within the UK system of government. Is this perhaps related to British government officials considering their special position above the law to be God-given? The fair question is whether the people they represent see it that way too, or at least accept it. Strategies to save Boris’ Bacon After a week of turmoil (mid-January 2022) with calls for resignations from all parties, the Prime Minister is said to have locked himself in No. 10 Downing Street at the weekend to ponder how he might survive the conflict. Distraction is the tool of choice of all populists and also that of the British ruling elite. – Operation Save Big Dog. First of all, it is reported that he and those close to him have launched Operation Save Big Dog. There are two aspects to this strategy. Boris Johnson is determined to change the culture within No. 10 Downing Street to survive. It is unacceptable that officials drink alcohol and hold parties whilst restaurants and pubs are closed, and personal contacts are forbidden throughout the country. He certainly would hit the nail on the head with that one. But this is not a cultural change. So what is meant? Introducing a ban on alcohol on Government premises? But that already exists. A civil servant who goes shopping during his lunch break and wants to carry a bottle of wine back to the office for dinner at home gets into trouble. Everyone knows about this ban, including the party-mad lot at No. 10 Downing Street, because why else would they have smuggled the alcohol in suitcases past security?! What else could cultural change mean? Decency? Law-abidingness? Integrity? We hear that an overhaul of the prime minister’s top team is also under discussion. Some of his supporters think this could work; others say such a measure is too lax and does not address the crucial issues. Whatever is meant by that! However, there are rumours, vehemently denied by Boris Johnson’s spokesman, that the PM will make some of his staff scapegoats , so they take the rap for him. Who would be in the firing line? According to The Guardian, Johnson’s First Private Secretary Martin Reynolds is among those most at risk. He has worked with Johnson for many years and has significantly influenced day-to-day decisions. However, he is facing dismissal for sending out the email inviting 100 staff to the infamous “bring your own booze” party in May 2020. Also at risk is Chief of Staff Dan Rosenfield , who took over after Dominic Cummings and Eddie Lister left at the end of 2020. He is accused of approving the claim that no parties were held at No 10 Downing Street, which proved to be a serious strategic error. Jack Doyle , who had been appointed director of communications after the departure of Lee Chain and James Slack, is at risk because the press office was the centre of the party and drinking culture. Doyle had offered his resignation when it was revealed that he had made a speech at the Christmas party on 18 December 2020. Johnson did not accept it then. It will be interesting to see who will take the rap for Boris. Sources: https://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry/boris-johnson-operation-big-dog-red-meat-nadhim-zahawi_uk_61e51df0e4b0a864b074bdbd Minister Denies Operations ‘Big Dog’ And ‘Red Meat’ Are Underway To Save The PM, 17 January 2022. https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2022/jan/16/operation-save-big-dog-who-is-in-line-of-fire-no-10-boris-johnson-partygate , 16 January 2022. -Operation Red Meat – Diversionary tactics Boris Johnson is desperately looking for diversionary scenarios, urging his party colleagues in the cabinet to come up with something to keep his backbenchers on his side – a strategy dubbed “Operation Red Meat”. But, of course, this is denied by the government and the Tories. However, what cannot be denied is the fact that frustrated constituencies are pressuring increasingly Tory MPs to distance themselves from the prime minister if they want to be re-elected. As a result, diversionary tactics are staged every few days. These include, for example, plans to scrap the BBC licence fee altogether. This a plan that would seriously jeopardise the future of the BBC as this is its primary source of income. Many Tory ministers and backbenchers, who have long criticised the BBC for its political coverage, would surely be delighted. It would kill two birds with one stone: distraction through media hype and closing ranks in the Conservative Party. The BBC is trusted and admired nationally and internationally for the thoroughness and accuracy of its news, reporting and its wide range of programming for all ages. It is the oldest and largest national broadcaster in the world. It celebrates its 100th birthday this year (18 October 2022). The BBC is funded primarily by an annual television licence fee levied on all UK households, organisations and businesses that use its radio, television, online and iPlayer services. The fee is set by the government and voted on by parliament. In 2019, annual revenue from the licence fee was almost £3.7 billion, representing 76% of the BBC’s total revenue of £4.9 billion. (£159 a year per household, or £13 a month). The government’s attack on the BBC threatens freedom of speech, press, and democracy. In its intention to abolish the national public service broadcaster, the government is attacking the principle of a democratic society. This entails ensuring access to fair, independent and balanced news media for all, broadcast media that should inform, educate and challenge, and exercise a degree of scrutiny over government and parliament. Holding those in power to account is an essential function of the news media. No wonder the BBC and other independent media are a thorn in the side of this government. As Polly Toynbee writes in The Guardian (16 January 22): “Britain’s influence has been deliberately vandalised by Conservatives who talk mindlessly of “patriotism” while demolishing all the vehicles of national pride abroad: foreign aid has been cut right back, while the British Council – almost as old as the BBC – is to close 20 offices around the world. British academic influence has been battered by the needless withdrawal from the Erasmus programme, and scientists are locked out of Horizon research funding. Now the BBC is mortally threatened.” Source: The BBC must defend itself with all its might against this mortal threat. The Guardian 16 January 2022. https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2022/jan/16/bbc-culture-secretary-funding-licence-fee On Sunday, 16 January 2022, Culture Minister Nadine Dorries threatened to abolish the licence fee permanently but softened her stance a day later. She announced that BBC licence fees would be frozen until 2024 and gradually increased in line with inflation after that. She justified the freeze by saying that this was necessary to help poor people who could not afford the licence fee and would face imprisonment if they did not pay. This decision is less radical than was expected, even though the temporary freeze will leave the BBC with a funding gap of £285 million until 2027. The BBC may be economically damaged, but it is safe for the time being. So it seems that either the government has realised that it is making a big mistake by trying to destroy the BBC, or the threat is a red herring from Boris Johnson’s current problems. The unexpected announcement of easing pandemic measures also makes an excellent distraction and an electoral gift from the Tories to their constituencies. In a surprise move, the beleaguered Boris Johnson announced on Wednesday (19 January 2022) that he would drop the Plan B measures as the country would have to live with the virus. This would remove Covid regulations in England, including the requirement to wear face masks. Plan A measures (such as the recommendation to continue wearing face masks when indoors with many people and the need for travellers to undergo testing two days after entering the UK) will remain in place for now. However, Boris Johnson promised further relaxation of the travel rules would be announced soon. Tory MPs who had opposed the entry restrictions were pleased, and this announcement is likely to help the prime minister gain more support. Business bosses, at any rate, welcomed the news of the end of Plan B as this would give them an economic boost. But some academics and practitioners said it was too much liberation too soon. Royal College of Nursing CEO Pat Cullen linked the change's reason and timing to the prime minister’s political crisis and warned that the country could not rely on vaccines alone. The pressure on the health system was unrelenting, she said. Dr Susan Hopkins, the chief medical adviser to Public Health England, advised people to continue wearing masks on trains, undergrounds, buses, and busy indoor areas and to get tested regularly. London Mayor Sadiq Khan said that wearing masks would still be mandatory on the capital’s public transport despite the law being scrapped. And, of course, immigration. Illegal migrants are always a red herring, and it always works! In this respect, measures are in the pipeline that certainly have the potential for discussion. It is rumoured that a policy to tackle the illegal channel crossing by migrants, which the government has long promised, could be launched soon. Home Secretary Priti Patel is expected to announce soon that the navy will be deployed to fend off boatloads of illegal migrants. However, critics amongst defence experts say that using forces in this way instead of focusing on threats from Russia and China would be a distraction from the real problems. But dealing with refugees seems to be a better distraction from the PM’s failures for the British people than the tensions between Europe or the UK and Russia and China. As a result, foreign policy may be subordinated to the political well-being of the Prime Minister and the Conservative Party. Even a series of long-overdue social measures and tax laws could be used to secure votes for the PM and his party and consign his transgressions to oblivion. The long-awaited levelling-up policy to improve deprived towns and areas is imminent. This policy is much anticipated by Tory MPs, especially those who won their seats at the last election in 2019 when frustrated Labour supporters voted for the Tories because they were promised significant improvements in their living conditions. But unless Boris Johnson and Michael Gove, Minister for Levelling-up, come up ASAP with a clear strategy, the electorate would see those election promises as hollow and empty and attributed to current failings. Pressed for time, Michael Gove’s Department for Equality, Housing and Communities issued a press release at the end of January saying 20 towns and cities in the original “Red Wall” (former Labour) constituencies in the north of the country would benefit from a supposedly new £1.5 billion fund. This announcement was to show that the government would fulfil its election promise of levelling up disadvantaged regions. However, this announcement backfired severely. Gove’s ministry had to backtrack and admit that the new fund was not new money but money already approved in the autumn budget 2021. The statement was consequently torn apart by opposition politicians. They exposed it as a gambit on how far Johnson and his ministers were willing to go to get the “Red Wall” constituency Tory MPs to back the Prime Minister. Source: https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2022/jan/29/conservatives-accused-of-levelling-up-stunt-to-save-boris-johnsons-job This hasty announcement also reveals another important point: the government is not remotely serious about equalising and reducing inequality in this country. Reforming and overhauling the health system is proving extremely difficult. Covid has exacerbated the backlog in the NHS, i.e. the lengthening of waiting times for examinations and operations. Clearing the backlog in the NHS has been promised for a long time and is urgently needed. The planned increase in the National Insurance contributions is supposed to fund measures to reduce the backlog. But this will not be enough, according to experts. Presumably, Tory MPs will not be prepared to accept further tax increases or charges before the election. Therefore, this issue will probably not be a priority in the near future. By contrast, the issue of fighting inflation could positively impact the approval ratings of the Tories and Boris Johnson. The cost of living has risen in the last year due to inflation, the rise in energy costs and the economic impact of Covid and Brexit etc., which is hitting low-income families particularly hard. So Boris Johnson could think about abolishing VAT. That would provide some relief. Chancellor of the Exchequer Rishi Sunak is expected to announce such a bill soon. This move could be a kind of “get out of jail” card for Boris Johnson – as long as Chancellor Rishi Sunak doesn’t take credit for it. Source: Operation Red Meat: The Policy announcements to help save Boris Johnson and if they will work. https://inews.co.uk/news/politics/operation-red-meat-explained-boris-johnson-policy-announcements-1405473 17 January 2022. Is the party soon over for Boris? “Two years ago, British Prime Minister Boris Johnson was on top of the political world. Today he looks like a dead man walking.” So commented the Washington Post on 13 January 2022 on the PM’s recent scandals. The Post warned that if the Conservative Party was not careful, it could soon step down as well. Indeed, members of the Conservative Party are concerned about the impact the party-gate scandal could have on the party and whether they would be able to retain their seats in parliament. “Lead or step aside!” demanded a growing group of Conservative MPs. – Loyal followers Oddly, most of his cabinet members still stick behind him and defend him. So does his loyal supporter Jacob Rees-Mogg – in his usual condescending manner. When Douglas Ross, the Leader of the Scottish Conservatives and a potential leader of a rebellion of Tory MPs, criticised Boris Johnson, Rees-Mogg made little secret of his contempt for his party colleague. In a television interview on Newsnight, he dismissively stated that Douglas Ross had always been an insignificant lightweight who had always been in opposition to the prime minister. That Ross has the full support of the Scottish Tory Party behind him and can be potentially dangerous to the government, something Rees-Mogg ignores for reasons of arrogance or loss of reality. Other cabinet members praise Boris Johnson, point to the successes under his leadership and urge MPs to support him. Among them is Nadine Dorries, the culture secretary. She is perhaps the most prominent supporter in the cabinet and across the party. However, she was recently brusquely expelled from a Tory WhatsApp group critical of Lockdown for trying to mobilise support for Johnson. Priti Patel, the Home Secretary, owes her post and the fact that she still holds it to Boris Johnson. He dismissed allegations of bullying against her by Patel’s staff, saving her from negative headlines, investigations and dismissal. Nadhim Zahawi, Minister of Education, a long-time ally of the Prime Minister, lets everyone know that Boris Johnson’s job is safe and what a successful Prime Minister he is. However, what precisely these successes were and whether they were of Boris Johnson’s doing, he does not explain so conclusively. because Boris Johnson’s so-called successes occurred when Dominic Cummings was running his activities. After losing his chief adviser, he stumbled from one misjudgement to the next. Moreover, his successes are dubious. Any Tory leader would have won the last election against a divided Labour Party. The credit for the successful vaccination campaign goes mainly to the scientists and the NHS and not to Boris personally. Under Johnson’s leadership, Britain has shrunk as a global power, a consequence of Brexit, which weakened relations with allies and key trading partners in Europe. But that is a different story. – Intrigue, betrayal and race for government positions In addition to the benefitting “cheerleaders” among the Conservatives, some distance themselves from the prime minister. Some hope for a chance to rise under a successor. Rishi Sunak and Liz Truss are considered potential opponents to Boris Johnsen as PM. Both still (half-heartedly) support him but have already begun to position themselves for a likely leadership battle and are courting the support of Tory backbenchers. Another motive for dismantling Prime Minister Boris Johnson could be revenge. After Boris Johnson dumped his long-time friend and compatriot Dominic Cummings, he sought revenge. Cummings and his friends from Vote Leave supported Boris Johnson in the Brexit campaign and helped him win the 2019 election. When Boris Johnson came to power, Dominic Cummings joined him as a special adviser and his colleague Lee Cain became communications director. However, under the pressure of the Covid crisis, significant tensions and heated arguments arose between the Vote Leave faction and the Prime Minister’s wife, Carrie, and her friends. They argued about the direction the government should take. As a result, Boris cut his ties with Vote Leave, and both Dominic Cummings and Lee Cain left Downing Street in mid-November 2020. Making an enemy of a friend with insider knowledge is always dangerous. Cumming’s revelations to the House of Commons Select Committee on 19 May 2021 about Boris’s incompetence shocked many. But none of this has hurt Boris Johnson’s position. Yet, Cummings continues to feed the media and whoever wants to hear damaging information about Boris Johnson. But nothing, not even an unleashed Boris Johnson, can be as damaging and hurtful as what the Conservative Party is doing to itself right now. They have crossed red lines in their boundless fear of losing votes and power. Tory fury spills over as Boris Johnson clings on The current scenario has something apocalyptic about it from the Tories’ point of view. Tory MPs report being inundated by their constituents’ angry emails and phone calls. Conservative associations across the country report dissatisfied members and resignations in protest against Boris Johnson and the Conservatives’ unwavering loyalty to him. Rightly, many Tory MPs fear that they will lose the upcoming local elections in May 2022 if Boris Johnson does not resign. One MP said, “The sad thing is that good MPs and people who work hard for their local constituents will have to pay the price (meaning Boris Johnson’s unsustainable behaviour) at the local elections in May. “He’s a coward.”…” It’s the fact that he lied. If he had said I did it, I’m sorry, then that would have been fine. But he lied. He has lost everyone’s trust.” (Voice of Tory voters) Source: h ttps://www.theguardian.c om/politics/2022/jan/17/grassroots-tories-want-boris-johnson-to-quit "In the name of God, go!" This disapproving attitude of many Conservative party members came to a head for all to see during Prime Minister’s Question Time in Parliament on Wednesday, 19 January 2022. Boris Johnson faced a Tory MP defecting to the Labour Party benches in front of the rolling TV cameras on that dramatic day. On that same day, one of the most senior Tory MPs and ex-ministers, David Davies, called on Boris Johnson to resign (“In the name of God, go!”). Rumour has it that in January 2022, some 30 Tory MPs declared their support for a vote of no confidence in the Prime Minister. More party colleagues are expected to withdraw their trust in the PM following Sue Gray’s enquiry findings. The decision of many Tory colleagues on whether to support or oust Boris Johnson depends on whether they believe he will bring them vote losses or vote gains in the 2022 local elections. And this is where the government comes in. The crackdown on rebels among the Conservatives is perfidious. Tory MPs report that some of them have been threatened with funding cuts. The planned redrawing of parliamentary constituencies next year, when several constituencies are likely to be dissolved, has also been used as a disciplinary measure to crush the rebels. Ministers had pressured and intimidated them into abandoning their plot against Boris Johnson. A senior Tory MP, William Wraggs (chairman of a House of Commons committee), accused the government of blackmail. He said the rebels had been threatened with the withdrawal of government investment in their constituencies. MPs reported that ministers, advisers and staff at No.10 Downing Street had encouraged the press or social media to publish embarrassing stories about those suspected of withdrawing confidence from the prime minister. Wakeford, who defected from the Tory party to Labour, said he was threatened and coerced into supporting the government. If he didn’t, then he would not receive the funding for the promised school in his constituency. Meanwhile, other MPs have come forward, accusing the government of putting pressure on them by threatening to deprive them of funds for their constituencies. The idea that some country areas are denied promised funding for schools, roads and other projects because their MPs are unwilling to stand by the failing prime minister is intolerable to any Democrat. LibDem leader Sir Ed Davey accused Boris Johnson of behaving more like a mafia boss than a prime minister. Labour deputy leader Angela Raynor called for a thorough investigation. However, the government denied any wrongdoing. Boris Johnson said he saw no evidence of blackmail. He refused to investigate the Tory MPs’ allegations until they produced evidence to support their claims. This could prove difficult as the party’s whips know how to pressure MPs without leaving a trail. The job of a whip is to get MPs in line to ensure that they vote the way the party leadership wants them to. The name “whip-in” probably comes from an old hunting term where whippers were tasked with keeping the pack of hounds in line. The whips are known to use intimidation and promises of promotion to ensure that potentially dissenting MPs are brought into line. This time, the whips may have overstepped the mark, as the allegations of blackmail and threats to withhold funds for their constituencies or cancel long-promised projects border on criminal behaviour and fraud. A red line has again been crossed. And this time, they may not get away with it. The beleaguered MPs plan to release a secretly recorded conversation with the Chief Whip, Mark Spencer, and to supply news stories to back up their claims of intimidation. Sources: In the Name of God: Go. Tory fury spills over as Boris Johnson clings on. The Guardian.19.1.2022. https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2022/jan/19/boris-johnson-faces-growing-demands-to-quit-from-tory-backbenchers?utm_term=61e8ec53ac83a81938ee24ff2deb4078&utm_campaign=GuardianTodayUK&utm_source=esp&utm_medium=Email&CMP=GTUK_email Boris Johnson: I have seen no evidence of blackmailing. BBC 20.1.22. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-60068612 What if the whole partygate scandal is a diversion from something much worse? Yes, the parties at No. 10 Downing Street are outrageous, and the Prime Minister and his colleagues are laughing in our faces. But what if this partygate scandal is just a red herring of something much more severe? George Monbiot of @DoubleDownNews warned that the government is taking away our freedoms in a big way without us realising it. Here’s a link to his podcast tweet. He reminded us that a Bill is currently going through its final stages in Parliament, the Police Bill . This bill threatens our democracy. It contains measures to stop and ban all forms of protest in the country. They include banning all forms of non-violent protest used throughout history worldwide. They also include new powers for the police to stop and search people and ban certain people from participating in demonstrations even if they have not committed a crime. If this law is passed, our fundamental democratic rights will be taken away. Therefore, it is extremely worrying that this bill could be quietly introduced into parliament with hardly any discussion in the media. The voices of the opposition went unheard, and with its large 80-vote majority in parliament, it was easy for the government to push this bill through. Fortunately, the members of the House of Lords, which has to confirm bills, showed more democratic understanding and sent the bill back to the House of Commons with proposed amendments for further discussion and voting. This will buy more time. So while everyone, media, parliamentarians and the country as a whole, stare spellbound and paralysed at the government’s brazen misconduct, human and civil rights are being curtailed, unnoticed by the public. The nationality and border protection legislation is another repressive piece of legislation. With this new Bill, the British government wants to overhaul the asylum and immigration system, allegedly to make it fairer and more efficient. In reality, it gives the Home Secretary new powers to turn away refugees and asylum seekers coming to the UK for protection and to deport undesirables. In addition, there are plans to strip British citizens of their citizenship and make them stateless without first informing them. Opposition politicians and many national and international organisations, such as UNHCR (the UN Refugee Agency) and Médecins Sans Frontières (MSF), have expressed serious concerns. They believe the measures envisaged in the draft law are glaringly flawed and likely to have severe consequences for people fleeing persecution and violence. The Bill contravenes the 1951 Refugee Convention, the treaty that has protected refugees for decades (of which the UK is a signatory) and other legal obligations of the UK. This bill would drastically undermine the country’s international standing. With this Bill, the Home Secretary seeks to criminalise, detain and push back people seeking protection, including children and survivors of torture and sexual violence. This bill would make the UK one of the most refugee-hostile countries in the world. Instead of improving protection for the persecuted, refugees would be discouraged from entering the UK by any means necessary. Priti Patel, the Home Secretary, has already promised 18 more such measures under the Police Act. This is disturbing, frightening news. There should be an outcry in the media and society. But nothing of the sort is happening. A wise rule is: When everyone looks at one point, look around! Distraction is of the essence for magicians, thieves and for politicians. We would therefore do well to be vigilant to protect our democracy. We need to be careful not to be distracted by parties, scandals and the Prime Minister’s silly clownish performances, or his outrageous and irritating behaviour whilst at the same time the most draconian laws are being introduced and enforced. Boris Johnson is only a representative of a system Whether he falls or not, either now or later, Boris Johnson is badly wounded as a politician and as the prime minister. Patrick Cockburn’s analysis in i-news of Johnson’s place in history sums it up: “ But a wounded populist is a dangerous thing, as Donald Trump has shown as he spews out calls to arms to rally his core supporters. Johnson is reacting in a somewhat similar fashion, threatening the BBC, one of the few remaining British institutions with real prestige in the world with defunding and sending the Royal Navy to stop refugees crossing the Channel. The egotism and irresponsibility about Johnson at bay that is breathtaking, and it will probably get worse. He may not have started the decline of Britain, but he has certainly speeded it up.” Source: Patrick Cockburn’s Dispatches. What will be Johnson’s place in British history? Expert analyses on world news. I-news, 22.01.2022. Okay, that may be true. But we must be careful and remember that it is not the behaviour and attitude of a single person like Boris that does injustice to a democratic country. It is the elitist system he represents and upholds. Another elitist prime minister could soon replace Boris, and the show would go on. As long as this elitist governing system is maintained, there will be one rule for them, the elite, and a completely different rule for us, the people. There will be no accountability and no honest leadership working in the interest of the people. (LL) Update 4 February 2022: After I’d finished writing this article (31 January 2022), a turbulent week followed that brought more chaos for the PM, Downing Street and the parliament. So I’ll include some key issues. First, on Monday, the watered-down report by Sue Gray still managed to reveal that the Met are investigating no less than 12 party events, including one in the PM’s Downing Street flat. Gray also blamed leadership and judgment failures for the scandal and excessive alcohol consumption in Downing Street offices. In his statement to Parliament, Boris Johnson accepted the findings and promised a shake-up of Downing Street operation. However, he faced criticism from his own side and the opposition. A beleaguered Johnson attacked the opposition leader, Keir Starmer, unfairly. He used an incorrect conspiracy theory from an extreme far-right website to smear him. He accused Keir of failing in his former Director of Public Prosecution role to persecute Jimmy Saville, the worst child sex abuser in history. This erroneous claim backfired severely. The PM was hit by a storm of protests, including his own MPs and lawyers of the victims of Saville’s abuse. The Saville smear dominated political debate, and his Cabinet ministers were forced to defend Johnson. On Thursday, and within 24 hours, Boris Johnson lost five of his Downing Street key staff. First, his long-standing top policy aide, Munira Mirza, resigned, giving her reason for her resignation Johnson’s use of false claims of the child abuse case to score political points. Further Downing Street resignations followed. Some (Doyle, Rosenfield and Reynolds) by mutual agreement, others (Elena Narozanski, political advisor from the No 10 Policy Unit) could take no more. Source: https://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry/exclusive-boris-johnson-emails-tory-mps-promising-to-listen_uk_61fd43e6e4b09170e9d01acf , 4 February 2022. https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-60254837 . What do key resignations mean for the PM? 4 February 2022. And so, the story continues to run. But Johnson stubbornly will not go but fights on. He is causing more and more damage to our democracy by doing so. People will simply lose trust, not only in Tory politicians but also in democracy and our political system. LL My analysis is divided into several areas and includes: The Failure of the Political Elite in Dealing with Covid in the UK The Priorities of the Elite The Common-sense Mantra Sleaze, Cronyism, Mismanagement in the Covid Crisis Consulting the Government: Struggle to be heard and independent #scandal #noconfidence #attackondemocracy #breachesoflockdownrules #operationsavethebigdog #Partygate #operationredmeat

– Associations and an emotional statement on the war in Ukraine – *A LEMMING is a crowd member with no originality or voice of their own. One who speaks or repeats only what they have been told. (DE) I was a LEMMING* for half of my life. Born into the young Democratic Republic of Germany, even as a toddler, I was subjected to socialist achievements such as a weekly crèche, from Monday morning to Saturday evening in the community only, and all-day kindergartens. Later, as teenagers, we gathered as Pioneers and then in the Free German Youth (FDJ). Community and collective in word and deed, in thought and feeling! And I somehow fell through the cracks. Because of my lack of social aptitude, I was denied a place at university in my desired subjects of history and art education, even though I had passed the A-levels “with distinction”. So what had I done wrong? I didn’t want to be the person responsible for agitation and propaganda (AgitProp) in the FDJ group. So I was only suitable for the subject of mathematics, which probably required less social unison. This obsession with collective unison produced a society of lemmings. Only the class enemy and my father watched West German television in the sixties. We children were not allowed to do so, and my communist father excused his media alienation by saying that he had to know the class enemy. There were no internet or social media channels back then. Still, there was citizenship as a curriculum subject. There was a wall a thousand metres away, and behind it, the class enemy was supposedly waiting with murderers and bombs. Our government and the political leaders kept us ignorant at all levels – working, eating, sleeping and paying homage to socialism, just not thinking for ourselves but repeating uncritically what was said. And so I was like a LEMMING. So I followed the herd to the cliff. But the information was unstoppable. We listened to Radio RIAS and watched West-TV; we began to think and to doubt. Artists and writers were waking up and protesting against being patronised and disempowered. It was a learning process. I recognised the lies and the liars and realised the betrayal of our lives. The freer our thinking became, the narrower our scope became. For example, I received disciplinary punishments for being a teacher and not going to the polls at 8 am but 2 pm. My boss felt compelled to discipline me because I had no problem fulfilling my civic duty as a teacher to go to the polling station “at the same time as the antisocial elements” who went to vote at that late hour. I received disciplinary sanctions for not participating in the communal reading of Neues Deutschland every morning in 1986. For this purpose, a teacher had to read specific articles from the party organ “Neues Deutschland” to the assembled staff and school employees. I stayed away from this spectacle and explained that I had been able to read by myself since childhood. However, in the eyes of my superior, this was insubordination that needed to be sanctioned. Nevertheless, I didn’t really fight back and remained a LEMMING until the end of the GDR and beyond. The liberation from the “collective” in my head took a few years. It was only in a completely different school and cultural environment in Munich that I was amazed and delighted to learn how democracy works on a small scale. I was allowed, even expected, to think for myself. My opinion was heard. And I understood the difference to the atmosphere and constraints of my socialisation in the GDR. Live democracy I was allowed to participate in a democracy; I was allowed to live democracy, speak my mind, travel to many countries, tear down walls in my brain, and understand what LIFE really is. Because the value of a democratic society still touches me deeply, the Russian invasion of Ukraine shakes me to the core. It is not only destruction, displacement, suffering and death that shock me, but above all, the fear that the Ukrainians could be deprived of their democratic basis. And that is why Ukraine must not be turned into Putin’s LEMMING STATE. The people of Ukraine have learned and lived democracy for 30 years. They are no longer lemmings. They are fighting for their lives and for a life of democracy and humanity. I have turned off my heaters and oiled my bicycle. Of course, this is only a tiny contribution, but I never want to be a LEMMING again. And I don’t want to contribute to others having to be LEMMINGS either. (KK) There is not only one way in a democracy.

To understand the extent of incompetence, one must understand the elite’s character traits as a social stratum, a class, and a status in society. The priorities of the elite differ, and so does their understanding of democracy. When the Covid pandemic began, Boris Johnson was otherwise occupied. Instead of his seat of Government in Downing Street, he was staying with his fiancée, Carrie Symonds, at the Prime Minister’s official country residence, Chequers, where he was preparing for his divorce and writing his book on Shakespeare. He skipped five weekly meetings of the crisis team Cobra (Cabinet Office Briefing Room A) and delegated all Covid-related duties to Matt Hancock, his health minister. Downing Street and Whitehall - Seat of Prime Minister and UK Government Scientists’ warnings of a pandemic fell on deaf ears, and the Government ignored urgent calls from the National Health Service (NHS) to order PPE masks and gowns. Unfortunately, these failures in February 2020 may have cost the lives of thousands of people in the UK. Source: The Times, 19 April 2020: Coronavirus: 38 days when Britain sleepwalked into disaster. https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/coronavirus-38-days-when-britain-sleepwalked-into-disaster-hq3b9tlgh The Government did not cover up the dangers, as was the case in China, but underestimated or ignored them for a long time. Private, personal matters of the prime minister had priority. Such an attitude is somewhat reminiscent of a phenomenon known from pubescents who have a problem with giving reason and duty priority over the principle of pleasure. However, one expects different behaviour from a prime minister. This attitude could also explain the Government’s laissez-faire attitude towards mass sporting events such as the Cheltenham Racing Festival in mid-March 2020. Despite rising Covid infections and hospitalisations, the famous horse race, which attracts about 250,000 visitors every year, was not cancelled. SAGE (Scientific Advisory Group for Emergencies), the committee of scientists who advise the Prime Minister and Cabinet in crises, was also apparently unaware of the potential risk of infection at mass events, despite simultaneous debates in other countries, and remained ambivalent in its advice. Horse racing is the biggest sporting event after football in the UK and generates millions in tax revenue each year. The organisers expected that the 250,000 visitors would spend around £100 million on the city’s hotels, restaurants, bars and clubs. The cancellation of the Cheltenham Horse Racing Festival would have been very costly and highly unpopular. Racing has mighty patrons, including the Queen, politicians and people in business. The event is also known for networking. It provides opportunities to initiate lucrative business deals in an informal atmosphere. Thus networking is an indispensable prerequisite for obtaining money and power and for maintaining it. One of the Jockey Club directors is Baroness Dido Harding, wife of Tory MP John Penrose. She is a close friend of former Prime Minister David Cameron, who arranged for her to become a member of the English House of Lords in 2014. She is also close friends with the keen horseman and racing enthusiast, Health Secretary Matt Hancock. Shortly afterwards, he appointed Dido Harding as director of the Covid testing and tracking programme, which, with a £22 billion budget, is a crucial part of the Government’s response to Covid. Over these three days (10 – 13 March 2020) of the Cheltenham Festival, the elite was networking and opening doors for future projects. The scenario was different for others; for example, a waitress who later recalled in an interview that she was terrified of catching Covid in the crowded bar. However, she had no chance to protect herself because social distancing and mandatory masks did not yet exist and not working was not an option. NHS data analysis of the impact of the Cheltenham Festival and the two simultaneous major football matches in Manchester and Liverpool showed that together they had caused over 100 deaths, 500 hospitalisations and 17,000 infections. Faced with criticism, the Government and Health Secretary Matt Hancock later unanimously justified their decisions by saying they had been guided by scientific advice. Source: https://www.theguardian.com/world/2021/feb/20/virus-dispersion-hub-packed-racecourse-cheltenham-festival ”Wash your hands for as long as it takes to sing ‘Happy birthday to you ‘ twice” At this time, countries like China, South Korea, and most of our European neighbours discussed far-reaching restrictions to contain the spread of the virus. The British Prime Minister’s message was: ”Wash your hands for as long as it takes to sing ‘Happy birthday to you ‘ twice”. This message is a relatively trivial way of dealing with a pandemic that would cause nearly 150,000 deaths in the UK (by the time of writing in late October 2021). Equally worrying, the scientific advisors initially suggested herd immunity as a strategy, and the Government briefly found this option acceptable. The emergence of herd immunity means that most of the population develops antibodies through infection with the virus and thus becomes immune. According to the prime minister’s calculation, the economic damage would not be too significant since only older people over 80 would be affected. When there was neither a vaccine nor medication against this unknown disease, such a strategy was reckless, unrealistic and irresponsible. Source: https://www.thetimes.co.uk/article/cummings-boris-johnson-said-covid-only-kills-80-year-olds-6fprlj5gf Shying away from responsibility In times of crisis like the Corona pandemic, a responsible government must strike a balance between individual liberties and human rights, such as the physical and mental integrity of the entire population. For Boris Johnson, socialised in the upper class, however, the principle of personal freedom has traditionally been a precious asset worthy of protection, outshining all else. In the pandemic, however, it has become apparent that personal freedom is quite different. While some people do have the choice not to go to the pub, restaurant, supermarket or use public transport for the sake of their health, others, such as waiters, shop assistants, bus drivers, supermarket staff, etc., cannot choose; to mention a few examples. Therefore, in my view, it was simply irresponsible how lax the reaction was initially to the study by Prof. Neil Ferguson of Imperial College. This study predicted that more than half a million people in the UK would die from the Covid disease without interventions. This data prompted Boris Johnson to make a “radical recommendation” in a TV address on the same day, 16 March 2020. He recommended that people should, if possible, work from home and avoid places like pubs and restaurants. While the Bavarian Prime Minister, for example, declared a state of emergency and ordered closures, border controls and exit restrictions, the Prime Minister could only bring himself to make a recommendation for the time being. This recommendation only meant that nothing was legally binding. So the before mentioned waiter in the pub had the personal freedom to choose between health risks or destruction of livelihood. In the imaginary world of an elitist socialised Boris Johnson, such alternatives do not occur. Of course, the prime minister and his Government also looked beyond Britain to Europe. There, they were preparing for a strict lockdown. The dangers for the United Kingdom were obvious and would have required quick and decisive action. Instead of taking responsibility for unpopular and difficult-to-implement measures and communicating the need for them, people were left to their own devices. Legally regulated financial support was not in the Government’s focus. However, financial aid is of existential importance for many people who work and live as wage earners or as self-employed. Later, ministers and scientists justified their hesitation by saying they thought the population would not accept drastic measures. They simply completely misjudged the needs of the people, whose living conditions they only rudimentarily know. However, history showed that exceptional times justify exceptional actions and are accepted by the population as long as they appear necessary, proportionate, practical and reasonable and are limited to the foreseeable future. When the UK did impose the lockdown a week later, on 23 March 2020, there were already 12,648 confirmed cases of Covid and more than 1,000 deaths. It was evident that the virus was out of control. This data forced the Government to react. Unfortunately, it had missed the moment when it could have acted. The Prime Minister, Boris Johnson, contracted Covid and his severe illness revealed how unaware the ruling elite are of its responsibility for the entire country. While Boris Johnson was fighting for his life in hospital, Foreign Minister Dominic Raab was temporarily in charge of government business. But Raab only governed on a consensus basis with the cabinet's approval. So it was unclear what powers he had to make crucial decisions, such as imposing more drastic measures or developing and implementing an exit strategy from the lockdown. No matter how small, there is usually a well-trained, entrusted and empowered deputy in any business, but not so in the Government of the United Kingdom. So, in all seriousness, a government in the middle of a pandemic was not capable of acting because the prime minister was ill. What if he had died?! The question is whether this clique of friends and former schoolmates is even aware of their responsibility for an entire country! What do these people want? Positions? Power? Business? Winning? Image? Peerage? More recently, in early October 2021, Boris Johnson faced demands to urgently tackle the growing crisis in the country: Price increases, tax rises, fuel shortages, labour shortages, and supply chain crisis, a problem last seen in the 1970s and now experienced by many British citizens and businesses as a “side effect” of Brexit. The Prime Minister rejected all responsibility and dismissed the current “pressures” as side effects of the country’s post-Covid economic recovery. Boris Johnson, in all seriousness, told business leaders who expected the Government to take action to solve problems that it was not his job to “solve every problem in the economy”. He urged business leaders to simply pay their employees more to absorb the rising cost of living and make jobs more attractive to domestic workers, as there was no way to issue thousands of short-term visas to foreign workers. Angry business leaders then accused Boris Johnson of simply passing the buck after dismissing and denying their fears of rising inflation and disrupted supply chains. They said the country was in crisis and the Prime Minister refused to acknowledge this and do anything about it. Source: https://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-10060043/Boris-denies-claims-supply-chain-chaos-just-ending-UKs-low-wage-economy.html To escape the challenges posed by business bosses and the precarious supply situation in the short term, Boris Johnson retreated with his family to the luxurious villa of his friend and minister Lord Goldsmith on the Costa del Sol. This break was already the second holiday in four weeks. The Prime Minister’s subordinates stayed behind to administer the crisis because solutions would be the responsibility of an elected government. Chancellor Rishi Sunak, for whatever reason, was also not available for government business at this time. The steel industry chief, who feared that the lights might go out in the UK within 4 to 6 weeks, did not consider it appropriate for the prime minister to take a holiday in such a situation. Soon the unravelling of the Government’s irresponsibility in handling the pandemic became public. On 12 October 2021, a comprehensive and damning report compiled by MPs on two cross-party committees (health and social affairs and science and technology) sharply criticised how the Government had handled the pandemic from the outset. The report said it was one of the biggest public health failures the UK has ever experienced. The delays and mistakes made by ministers and scientific advisers in the early stages of the pandemic cost at least 20,000 lives. Source: https://committees.parliament.uk/publications/7496/documents/78687/default/ ; https://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/entry/mps-uk-covid-report-lockdown-herd-immunity_uk_61645a08e4b019644427c7ae Cabinet member Steve Barcley, however, repeatedly refused to apologise for the Government’s failure during interviews. Even though he had not read the report, he dismissed any blame. He insisted that the Government followed scientific advice, protected the NHS and made decisions based on available evidence. The newly appointed science minister, George Freeman, even went so far as to blame Covid victims for a severe course of the disease because they were overweight. He was scapegoating people who perhaps have a metabolic disorder for the Government’s inaction at the pandemic’s beginning. Source: Metro 13.10.2021 Covid Verdict: It’s your fault. Sorry? Fat chance. It is insulting to blame Covid victims and their families. When someone takes office in a government, they get responsibilities with the power. One is responsible for success and failure because one has made decisions. These decisions include which experts to consult and what to do with the advice and opinions. Instead of blindly following the suggestions of scientific experts, the Government representative must carefully consider the results in context. Otherwise, experts might as well take over the Government for a while! Advisors and scientists can never take away the responsibility of governing from the elected members of the Government. However, in the current make-up of the Government by representatives of the elite, this principle seems to be unknown. Profile orientation instead of task orientation I presume that the elite are very concerned about their image, focusing primarily on media effectiveness. Therefore, decisions are made based on whether they can be portrayed in a particularly effective way in the media and not whether they are practical and efficient measures. Spectacular things produce spectacular coverage. That’s how it works. An excellent example of this is the construction of the Nightingale Hospitals. As early as the end of March 2020, intensive care units across the country were already overcrowded. The public health system reached its limits very early on due to the steadily reduced capacity caused by constant cuts in the previous ten years of the Tory Government. Without admitting past mistakes, a spectacular solution was needed. The army was deployed and built within nine days a gigantic hospital in the O2 Congress Centre in London. The Government praised itself for this Herculean achievement and commissioned the construction of similarly gigantic hospitals. The danger of overburdening the health system will thus be averted, they promised. However, what the Government overlooked, which is typical of this Government, was that the appropriate specialist staff was unavailable. Shortage of skilled workers! A well-known phenomenon in the industry had apparently not filtered through to the Government. It was impossible to move highly professional critical care staff out of hard-pressed hospitals to maintain safe staffing ratios. As a result, for example, only a handful of patients could be treated at the new Nightingale Hospital in London over the Easter weekend of 2020, when record numbers of critically ill Covid patients were admitted to London hospitals. In total, 51 patients were treated at this Nightingale hospital, with a capacity of 4,000 intensive care beds, before it was converted into a Covid vaccination centre. Source: https://www.bmj.com/content/369/bmj.m1860 . Covid-19: Nightingale hospitals set to shut down after seeing few patients. But you’ve had your media hype, and the public really doesn’t look that closely for so long. Politicians had distinguished themselves, but the task of protecting the health system had not been fulfilled. In the months that followed, six more Nightingale hospitals were built across the country, at a total cost of over £220 million and with a capacity of over 11,000 intensive care beds. But, again, they could hardly be used for said reasons. Since then, four of these hospitals have been closed down; three are threatened with closure but will continue to be used at least as vaccination or diagnostic centres for the time being. The closure of these Nightingale hospitals, some of which have yet to admit a single Covid patient, raises two questions: Has the pandemic response disproportionately focused on developing intensive care capacities? How did the decision to embark on such an expensive profiling project come about without even a politician, scientist or healthcare expert having pointed out the problem of shortages of skilled workers? Or perhaps hints from the practice were ignored in order not to jeopardise the prestige project? In any case, task orientation, which one may expect from representatives of the people, looks different. When solving a complex task, it is generally known that it is essential to include diverse perspectives and levels, which means the expertise of practitioners is also needed. However, Boris Johnson and his cabinet, marked by a sense of class and know-it-allism, kept amongst themselves. They consulted the scientists of the SAGE group but neither asked people with long-standing practical experience in the health sector for advice nor did they look across borders to Europe. Instead, they made ill-conceived decisions and demanded their execution. This approach appears to be a pattern. Decisions fail in the face of reality because politicians from the elite seem not to value practitioners and their expertise; hence, they do not involve people working at the grassroots level in the decision-making process. Consequently, protests from the people who should implement these wrong, not far-reaching enough or unimplementable measures regularly led to urgently needed revisions. This ineffective way of working is probably based on the assumption that practitioners are more or less recipients of orders with whom one does not cooperate at eye level. The elite’s understanding of democracy – Jovi and Bovi In a democracy, all people have the same rights and obligations. Yet elites are people who are used to influencing social decisions, i.e. exercising social power. The tension between elites and democracy and what elites thought of the principle of equality became evident in the Corona crisis. Whoever makes the laws somehow seems to be strangely above the law, loosely based on the Latin mentioned above saying, “ What is allowed for Jupiter is not allowed for the ox”. This scandalous elitist self-concept of inequality is evident in handling the regulations restricting freedom of movement and contact restrictions. Let’s take the example of Dominic Cummings, a close advisor to Prime Minister Boris Johnson. Dominic Cummings – the exception to the rule! In March 2020, when he feared that he and his family had contracted Covid like the Prime Minister, he travelled with his wife and child from London to Durham (268 miles, 431 km, 5 hours driving time) to be nearer his family in the event of illness. He was spotted in the following days, apparently not ill, on an outing with his wife and child near Durham Castle. The directive to the rest of the population was to stay at home under all circumstances. Thus, not only did people have to endure loneliness and isolation, but they could not see their loved ones in nursing homes and even visit seriously ill and dying relatives or friends in hospitals. This was a tough time for many, whilst a government advisor made life easier for himself. Why? Because he could! The Durham police considered his behaviour as only a minor offence. The Prime Minister, with his cabinet and the Government’s scientific advisors, gave Cummings full backing. Original sound bite: “What Cummings did, any responsible family man would have done.” Excuse me? What? An outcry went around the country at this gross violation of the lockdown rules. So the government advisor who does not abide by the curfew is a responsible family man, and the ordinary citizen who does the same is sanctioned?! This episode ultimately undermined the binding nature of the Government’s lockdown rules and caused significant damage to the pandemic. Source: Dominic Cummings potentially broke lockdown rules, say Durham police. The Guardian, 28 May 2020. Matt Hancock – everyone is the same except me! Completely absurd is the story of Health Minister Matt Hancock, which happened in May 2021. He had been secretly filmed in his office (the footage was sent to and published by the Sun newspaper) hugging and kissing his assistant. That his long-standing affair with his closest aide was made public is one thing, but that he breached his own ban on contact with people from another household is another. It becomes tragic-comic when one considers how Hancock had handled the resignation of Prof Ferguson, who was guilty of similar misconduct. He had called for the latter’s resignation because, after all, the contact restrictions and rules of distancing would apply to everyone. However, not to himself. This offence probably would not necessarily have led to his resignation if other political disputes had not fuelled this scandal. For a long time, Boris Johnson had covered for his health minister, even when he came under intense attack from Dominic Cummings (after his departure as a special adviser) for his failed policies during the pandemic. But in the end, the Government probably needed a scapegoat for its mismanagement of the Covid crisis. Thus, the timing of the scandal was favourable to the Government and unfavourable to Hancock. Source: https://www.theguardian.com/politics/2021/jun/26/matt-hancock-resigns-after-questions-over-relationship-with-aide Prof. Ferguson – My mistake, my consequences! Unlike Boris Johnson, Dominic Cummings, Matt Hancock and other ruling elite members, Prof. Ferguson did not think that his breach of the rules weighed less than those of ordinary citizens. Someone observed and made it public that he had received visits from his mistress when one had to stay strictly at home and avoid any contact with members of other households. He immediately admitted his misconduct and instantly resigned from his position as Scientific Advisor on the SAGE Committee. His integrity and expertise remained unaffected by this misdemeanour, and the media regularly approached him for comment. People usually forgive if someone admits a mistake and takes the consequences. After all, we are all human beings. Source: Prof Neil Ferguson quits Government after ‘undermining’ lockdown. BBC 6 May 2020. After all these scandals, the public was sensitised to the ruling elite’s sense of inequality “ what is permitted to the Jupiter is not permitted to th e ox”. Therefore, misdemeanours had to be covered up from then on. Fake pilot projects to bypass quarantine rules In July 2021, the law was that anyone warned by the Covid app that they had been in contact with an infected person would have to go into quarantine. With the simultaneous removal of restrictions, this rule led to significant problems in everyday life and sometimes partially paralysed the economy. For example, sometimes, it was no longer possible to operate all tube lines regularly because too many employees were in quarantine. Therefore, removing the lockdown restrictions and, at the same time, maintaining strict quarantine rules is more akin to a foolish act than a well-thought-out measure. The situation became even more absurd when government officials were among those affected. They reached deep into their bag of tricks. When the newly appointed Health Minister Sajid Javid tested positive for Corona in his first week in office in July 2021, Downing Street announced that Cabinet members who had come into close contact with him would not have to isolate themselves as required. The reason given was that they would participate in a VIP pilot programme with daily tests. These individuals included Prime Minister Boris Johnson and Chancellor Rishi Sunak. This argument had worked months earlier with government member Michael Gove when he returned from the Champions League final in Portugal with his son and did not have to go into what was supposed to be mandatory quarantine like everyone else. Yet, it did not work this time. The opposition and the public had learned their lesson and resented this brazen behaviour. The politicians concerned complied. A small step forward to equality before the law? Or “ What is not permitted to the ox is not permitted to Jupiter ” or something like that. Source: Covid-19: PM and chancellor self-isolate after rapid U-turn. BBC, 19 July 2021. Source: Polly Toynbee, Mon 19 July 2021, The Guardian: Boris Johnson’s ‘freedom day’ isolation tells us the virus is everywhere. Further analyses In other articles, I deal with other phenomena that came to light during the crisis. The Failure of the Political Elite in the UK in Dealing with Covid The Common-sense Mantra Sleaze, Cronyism & Mismanagement in Covid Crisis Consulting the Government: Struggle to be Heard and Independence Boris’ Partygate – an Attack on Democracy (LL.) #oneruleforusandoneruleforthem #lackofresponsibility #lackofunderstanding #rulingelite #politicalelite #politicalfailure

-Munich 1945 to 1953- (DE) "For God's sake! That can't be! It's gone! Just gone!" I, a mere six-year-old, was standing on Guldeinstraße in the Schwanthalerhöhe district of Munich on a freezing cold winter's day in 1946 and was terribly frightened. The food stamp my grandmother gave me to buy a quarter of a pound of sugar at the supermarket in Astallerstraße had disappeared on the way. Stunned, I stared at my clammy fingers, which had held on to this precious stamp as tightly as they could, and now it had disappeared. What a disaster! Such a tiny part could easily get lost. My grandma and I frantically searched the snow-covered road for the tiny stamp. Our chances of finding it were not good. But we were lucky; we found it in the snow slush. Relieved, we carried the small, completely soaked, but precious scrap of paper home. My grandma ironed it until it was flat and dry so that we could set off again to get hold of some sugar.   This anecdote is typical of the post-war period from 1945 onwards. The supply situation was disastrous, especially for the inhabitants of the cities. There was hardly any production in Germany, and transport routes such as railway tracks, roads and bridges had largely been destroyed by targeted bombing. Even inner-city streets were often barely recognisable under all the rubble. Peanut butter from the black market - pure madness! When all supplies were used up at the end of 1946, the daily requirement of an average adult was rationed to a meagre 1550 kilocalories. In 1947, it was often only 800 to 1000 kilocalories. If there was nothing left, nothing could be distributed. The allocation of food vouchers corresponded to this measure. Too much to die and too little to live on, as the saying goes.  With the introduction of the war economy by the National Socialists, food was rationed from 1939, and food stamps were issued. Even after the war, the occupying powers and the regional German administrations retained this supply system. It was only finally abolished in 1953. Until then, food stamps were issued alongside the DM even after the currency reform in 1948. Like most other families in our neighbourhood, inflation was an almost insurmountable problem for us. My father was not among the 25 per cent unemployed in those first post-war years. He immediately got a job at the post office. But his wages were almost worthless. A pound of butter cost 360 Reichsmarks, a pound of bread 190 RM and a kilo of coffee could cost between 500 and 1100 RM. Who had that kind of money? Very few people could pay these prices, which were charged on the strictly forbidden black market. According to official statistics, the average salary in 1947 was around RM 1,833 monthly. Of course, the unemployed had even less at their disposal. Therefore, other ways of obtaining food had to be found, namely the so-called hoarding trips. This involved the urban population going to the surrounding villages to exchange expendable items such as jewellery, silverware, paintings, etc., for potatoes, eggs or other foodstuffs. Those who had nothing of value had to resort to begging. I don't know whether my parents also went on such trips, for example, to the Stauchbäuerin in Warngau. But I know that my father and I once ran a black-market business together. One day, given the daily shortage, a camera seemed dispensable to my father, so we both made our way to Hackerbrücke. In some of the Reichsbahn railway carriages, one could find Americans with whom the people of Munich could barter. Similar black markets existed all over Munich, for example, at the Viktualienmarkt or Sendlinger Tor.  Many people hoped to obtain cigarettes such as Lucky Strike or Chesterfield from the GIs at Hackerbrücke. The cigarette currency was a very well-functioning means of payment in the post-war period. If you had cigarettes, you could exchange almost anything for them. Cigarettes were definitely more valuable than money or other goods. I can't say whether my father received cigarettes for his camera because, as a little boy of six, I wasn't interested in that. The powdered milk we packed and the food tins were more appealing to me. And if I had known how good peanut butter tasted, my excitement on the way home would have been even greater.  But this delicacy, which, according to the label, was called "peanut butter", was utterly unknown to us. The whole family tasted this strange spread with some suspicion. But what can I say? It was a divine treat! We all ate it, wholly enraptured by the delicious flavour, and even today when I receive peanut butter as a gift from my daughter, I enjoy eating it and reliving my childhood memories. Hunger is the best cook! My life had changed fundamentally in the summer of 1945. I don't know why my parents brought me to live with my grandmother at Guldeinstraße 41 for a few months at that time. But I assume my mother wanted to stay at the Stauchhof with my two-year-old sister until my father made our flat on the third floor at Gollierstraße 36 habitable again.  Guldeinstreet in 2011 Gollierstreet 36 (2011) Typical blocks of flats in Schwanthalerhöhe Also, I was six years old at the end of the war in 1945 and was due to start school in September. As my parents were planning to return to Munich, enrolling me in our neighbourhood school immediately made sense. I went to the Ridler school, although the Bergmannschule would have been closer. But this school had been so severely destroyed during the war that it could not open for the time being.  I can't remember my first day at school, and I don't recall the lessons, the teachers or my class, but I can still clearly picture the blue tubs and containers in which the school meals were delivered. We spooned up mushy pea soup or chewy porridge with a chocolate flavour. Unforgettable! I liked both. After all, hunger is the best cook. But my grandma was definitely a magician in post-war cuisine. From the few ingredients that were available to her due to the food stamps, she made her own delicious "odrahde Wichspfeiferl" (today we call them "Schupfnudeln") with home-made sauerkraut, and home-made broad noodles were also on the menu. These were my favourite dishes. I didn't have to go hungry. I was fortunate at that time.  These post-war years until the currency reform in 1948 have gone down in history as years of cold and hunger in Germany, especially in the cities. However, my family managed to ensure that I didn't feel the general lack of essential supplies as a child. Memories of hunger do not overshadow my memories of this time. But perhaps it's also because of my nature that the glass is always half full rather than half empty for me.  I still remember the warming rooms in the neighbourhood in my childhood because there wasn't enough fuel for the wood and coal stoves. At least we were lucky to live in an undamaged flat. It could get uncomfortably cold there, but we were always better protected. But what could the people do who didn't have a flat, who had only made a makeshift home in the rubble? They could only protect themselves from freezing to death in the warming rooms.  There was also hardly any fuel for public facilities such as schools, so pupils were asked to bring a few coals to school if possible.  In addition, the winter of 1946/47 was the longest and coldest of the 20th century. From November 1946 to March 1947, Germany literally froze over. Even shipping routes became impassable, and stored potatoes, Germany's most important staple food, froze in their crates. The post-war period in Germany, particularly in big cities like Munich, was a terrible time, and many people couldn't survive the hunger and cold.  However, I was lucky that my family was complete and healthy and had not been bombed out. Only my grandfather had been mistreated in the Dachau concentration camp and was only released to die in 1943, and my uncle on my mother's side was killed in the last days of the war. Both my father, whose war injury had not left any long-term damage and who was not a prisoner of war, and my mother soon found a job. He worked as a parcel courier at the post office, and she was a clerk at a retail company. My parents didn't have big salaries, but they had work and, therefore, a certain degree of security. Childhood in the rubble  I can't remember why my father was at home in the Guldeinstraße that afternoon and not at work. But I still clearly remember tripping during the Fangermandl game and hitting my head on a manhole cover. The wound just above the eye in my right eyebrow was bleeding profusely, and I was unsurprisingly upset. At the time, people didn't have any medication or bandages at home, nor was there an emergency telephone number that could have been used to call paramedics or an ambulance. Apart from that, there was no rescue service as we know it today. So my father carried me on his shoulders all the way, more than three kilometres, from Guldeinstraße to the clinic on Nussbaumstraße, where my wound was stitched and bandaged. The scar is still visible today. I was a typical boy of Schwanthalerhöhe! Little Sabine, about four years old, was also running around, playing with the children in our street, and was less lucky than me. She was run over by a lorry in front of us and died instantly. I didn't see the moment of the accident, but I saw Sabine lying under the twin rear tyres of the lorry. She was dead. Nobody could explain how the accident had happened. There were few cars on the road at the time. Maybe that's why she hadn't recognised the lorry as a danger. It was a mystery. All the residents of the neighbourhood, but especially those in Guldeinstraße, where the accident had happened, were in shock for a long time.  Looking back, I only realise today that we children of the post-war period lived quite dangerously. The playgrounds of my entire childhood were backyards, streets, and the surrounding ruins. There were adventures to be had there.  We searched through the ruins and rubble for pieces of brass or copper, for which we got a few pennies from the ironmonger and tugged at the cables, never suspecting what might be lurking under the rubble at the other end. Possibly an unexploded bomb! Well, and of course, we also did some dangerous nonsense. There was a camp nearby made of planks nailed together. We didn't know what it had once been used for. Maybe it was a shooting range because we found a lot of cartridges in it. If we had also found a suitable weapon, an accident would certainly have happened. But as it was, we found another way to ensure it went off. We dug the cartridges we had collected into the ground and set them alight. We were very impressed by our heroic deed.  Parents in our neighbourhood at that time were not overprotective. The adults reminded the children to watch out for this and that, to leave this and that alone, and then left them to their own devices or in the care of their older siblings. Nothing happened to my sister and me. We were lucky or perhaps protected because my working parents hired a domestic help to look after my sister and me before and after school or kindergarten. Sometimes, she would send me to the Bürgerheim pub at Bergmannstraße 33 to buy a single "American cigarette" for 30 pfennigs. She allowed herself this luxury.  The Bürgerheim pub still exists today. In the post-war period, it was an important meeting place for the residents of Schwanthalerhöhe. Not only was a warming centre set up there, but even after the currency reform, cheap food such as lung ragout with potatoes was still available for ration stamps. This is a mixture of innards such as sour lung and pork belly.  Currency reform 1948  Speaking of currency reform. The currency reform on 21 June 1948 put an end to the economic and everyday chaos of inflation, black markets and shortages. The changes were almost immediately visible in the shop windows. Where there had been nothing before, overnight, there suddenly was bread and sausage and fabrics and clothes and the like.  The new currency - Deutsche Mark (DM -1948) The shopkeepers had hoarded goods so they could sell them from the cut-off date for good money. All those who didn't own anything in kind only had the one-time 40 DM allowance per family member. Savings were exchanged for RM 100 at DM 6.50. A huge loss. In the end, savers were among the losers.  On the eve of the currency reform, you could no longer buy anything for Reichsmark, and everyone realised it wasn't worth hoarding the worthless money.  My friends and I have this fact to thank for our very special miracle of the currency reform.   We were about nine years old and already realised that the adults were in a frenzy because the currency reform would finally become a reality. The term meant very little to us, only that there would be different money.  Of course, we didn't realise the significance of such a currency changeover in everyday life, and, to be honest, we didn't care. But what made us euphoric on Saturday, 19 June 1948, was that people gave us money. Just like that. Unbelievable!  On this memorable day, we suddenly owned 20 Reichsmarks. What a wealth! Naturally, we wanted to use it to afford an otherwise unaffordable pleasure. We decided to take the tram to the zoo. That alone was an event in itself. From there, we walked to Lake Hinterbrühl.  We imagined how we would pompously and boastfully rent a boat from the local boat lender, Mr Wagner, and pay generously with our own money. Then, like we thought rich people tend to do, we would sail across the lake and simply do nothing. All the way to the boat rental, we talked about what it would be like and how surprised the boat lender would look. We didn't quite understand why Mr Wagner didn't want our money. He waved us off and said that we could keep our worthless money. Our dream of making big payments and cruising around like rich people was over.  But our disappointment was limited because the good man took pity on us and let us travel on his wooden boat for free. In our imagination, we were no longer rich people but wild pirates on the seven seas. There was something about that!  Post-war children and their little happiness  Our wishes were very modest. We children considered ourselves lucky if we had saved up 10 pennies to buy a Stranitze with dried apple peel from the grocery shop "Decker" on the corner of Kazmair and Ganghoferstraße on our way to school.  The term "Stranitze" is no longer known today. These are triangular bags made from newspaper. Today, this type of bag, although no longer made from newspaper, is still used, for example for roasted almonds,  In the late 1940s and early 1950s, wafer crumbs with leftover chocolate were an absolute luxury—one bag for 35 pfennigs. We could only afford that very rarely and only if we pooled our money.  What a lucky coincidence that the large "Limmer" bakery was in the neighbouring house. The bakery was located in the rear building, and we, the children from Gollierstraße, found it very interesting to see how the large sacks of flour were unloaded from the delivery lorries and lifted by a small crane attached to the front of the building.  And we hoped that baker Limmer would appear in the courtyard and ask us if we had already sweated today. We always eagerly answered affirmatively because if we said we had sweated, we were given pretzels. We never asked ourselves what was behind this question. The main thing was that we got a pretzel! The "Pfanni dumpling"  From 1947, the exhibition centre, bordered by Theresienwiese to the east, Ganghoferstraße to the west, Heimeranstraße to the north and Pfeufer and Radlkoferstraße to the south, was once again home to exhibitions of all kinds. Of course, we children would have been very interested to see and taste everything there was to see and taste, but we didn't have the money for the entry fee. I can't remember exactly which food fair it was and what year it was in the 1940s, but we were determined to get inside. There was bound to be something delicious to taste. And we made extensive preparations to ensure that we would succeed.  Before the opening, we loosened some planks from the fencing at a suitable spot in Heimeranstraße so that they only hung from a nail at the top. We could then push them aside if necessary and quickly slip through. Once we were on the site, everything was straightforward. We walked unnoticed to the lighthouse in front of Hall 7 and waited for the inspector to make his rounds at the entrance. We naturally mingled with the visitors, looked at the goods on offer and were magically drawn to the Pfanni stand. Why? There was something to try.  We didn't know then that we were about to enjoy a historic innovation in the food industry and ready-made products - the Pfanni dumpling.  In 1949, Werner Eckart set up the Pfanni factory in the Munich district of Berg am Laim near the Ostbahnhof railway station and added the "Urknödel" (original dumpling) to his range of dried potato products. Pfanni also presented this "Urknödel" to an astonished audience at a food fair or the Munich Central Agricultural Festival in 1949. I can't say for sure. The decades-long triumph of this ready-made product is well known.  We children of the post-war period certainly appreciated that we were allowed to try these little dumplings with tomato sauce at the trade fair stand. It was a real treat!  It was certainly worthwhile for Pfanni to treat us children so generously because we were the customers of the future. In any case, I have enjoyed eating Pfanni dumplings all my life, but with roast pork and not with tomato sauce.  Many years later, while working as a parcel carrier, I got to know the managing director of Pfanni-Werke, Dr Lange, and told him about our illegal visit to the trade fair and the dumpling feast. I am only now honouring his request to write this story down. I first had to learn to type on a typewriter and then on a keyboard. But better late than never!  Neckache Row at the cinema However, we couldn't scam our way into one of the cinemas in Schwanthalerhöhe as we could at the fair, so we kids had to beg our parents for some money. None of us were given regular pocket money.  The Merkur cinema at Gollierstraße 24, which opened in 1927 and closed in 1962, was the most popular. I can still remember the silent film "Goldrausch" (Gold Rush) (1925) with Charlie Chaplin and "Das große Treiben" (The Overlanders) (1946). But of course, we boys were particularly impressed by the westerns starring the American actor Tom Mix (*1880 to +1940).  Tom Mix, the cowboy with style and a big heart, also appeared in German cinemas in the 1920s, and his films were very popular. The cinema-goers of the 20s and us boys of the 40s liked the dramatic and adventurous stories of the Wild West hero, which were humorously told on the screen in black and white and mostly silent.  As children, we always took seats in the so-called "neckache row" in the cinema when we had the 85 pfennigs entrance fee together. These were the cheapest seats in the very front row. We had to bend our heads way back to see the whole screen. After a while, you would get neckache, hence the name "neckache row". In those days, when nobody had a television but at most a radio, going to the cinema was a very welcome form of entertainment. Back then, several cinemas in our neighbourhood were within walking distance. In addition to the "Merkur", we could also go to the "Westend", the "Ganghofer" and the "Eden", as long as we had somehow managed to raise the 85 pfennigs entrance fee.  Swimming in the "Dante"  There was no outdoor pool in our neighbourhood. To go swimming, we children had to go to the "Dantebad" in the Gern district. That was a good four kilometres away, about an hour's walk, and then, tired from swimming and romping around, an hour back again. There was a tram connection, but we saved ourselves the 20 pennies for the tram because otherwise, we wouldn't have had enough money for the entry fee to the Dante.  We only travelled to the Dantebad by car once, which was an adventure. A neighbour, Mr Schindlauer, offered us a lift to the outdoor pool in the back of his Ford lorry with a wood-gas engine. We were thrilled and sat excitedly on the back of the lorry. It was the first car journey of our lives. The day of our first holy communion and our first traveling by car In 1948, on the day of our holy communion, we were allowed to go by car again. My friend Fritzl, who lived in the same house as me, Annerl from the neighbouring house and I were invited by the baker Limmer to celebrate the day by driving with him to Lake Starnberg in his English "Austin Traveller", a kind of estate car. We sat in amazement on the wooden loading area. What an experience! Such a great car and so fast!  But as the journey progressed, Annerl got quieter and quieter and huddled in her corner. She felt sick from the rocking on the rather bumpy road to Starnberg. At that time, there was still no sign of a motorway for miles around. Annerl wasn't feeling well at all and had to vomit. Of course, that wasn't how Mr Limmer had imagined it. But he took it in his stride. But we children all agreed that the trip had been fantastic. Despite Annerl's sickness! The first Wies'n  Yes, we children from Schwanthalerhöhe lived in modest circumstances, but I have fond memories of those years as a school child. Everything was an adventure. Many things were experienced for the first time. After all, we war children had been young children at a time when the world around us was getting darker and poorer. In the post-war period, new doors and paths were opening. And many things were also "for the first time - again!" for the adults.  The first "Wiesn" (Oktoberfest on the Theresienwiese) after the war took place in September 1949. For me and all the other 10-year-olds, it was the first Oktoberfest of our lives because no Oktoberfest had been held from 1939 to 1949. It was a tremendous event.  Business-minded as we were, we pushed the carousel at the Stibor children's carousel for 10 pennies an hour and then jumped on and went for a ride. This ride still ran without a motor. We had to use our own strength to get it going. What luck for us!  We could afford the 20 pfennigs entrance fee for the Devil's Wheel with our money earned. You were allowed to ride for as long as you wanted; of course, we made the most of it. It was great fun. This cult ride is still trendy at the Oktoberfest today.  When we got hungry, we went to the chicken roastery and begged for the chopped- off chicken offcuts we were given to nibble on.  That was our world, and the Theresienwiese, which is so world-famous today because of the Oktoberfest, was part of it. I learnt to ride a bike there, for example. It was an ideal place for it. It was a vast square where nothing was happening most of the time except during the two weeks of the Oktoberfest.   My father had assembled a bike for me from parts of old bikes, and now I was learning how to ride on the Theresienwiese. There was no obstacle in sight, just a vast empty space. Some distance away, an elderly couple strolled unsuspectingly across the area. But as part of my cycling exercises, I rode right between the man's legs from behind. I was utterly baffled about how this could have happened, and the man was understandably very annoyed. He called me a stupid idiot and barked at me unnecessarily, asking if I couldn't have been more careful. If I could have, I would have done so immediately, but I was distracted by balancing and pedalling!  Schwanthalerhöhe or Westend, a working-class neighbourhood Schwanthalerhöhe, also known as Westend, was created at the end of the 19th century. Although initially planned as a residential suburb of Munich, it developed into a densely populated working-class neighbourhood. This was because many industrial companies were established along the railway line, which meant work for the people. The accommodation offered by private landlords to workers and their families in the rear buildings and courtyards was dark, small, damp and unhealthy. Water had to be fetched in the hallway, and there was one toilet for several tenants in the stairwell.  When the workers joined to form co-operatives and built their own apartment blocks, living conditions improved somewhat. The standards of the co-operative flats were basic, but at least they were no longer run-down neighbourhoods. Social tensions repeatedly led to a high crime level, and the Westend and Schwanthalerhöhe neighbourhoods were known as the "broken glass district" and "robbers' quarter".  I don't know whether our neighbourhood also had a bad reputation in the 1940s and early 1950s. Children aren't interested in such things. We weren't aware that there were no villas in our neighbourhood but rather run-down apartment blocks with peeling plaster. And compared to the ruins that existed for quite a while after the end of the war, every block of flats looked lovely.  Of all the possible crimes committed in a "robbers' neighbourhood", I can only remember one. A murder in our street, at Gollierstraße 36!  A woman who lived on the ground floor was found murdered. For the adults who discussed this case heatedly, it was because this married woman went to another man who lived in the neighbourhood whenever her husband wasn't at home. It was a complete mystery to us children why she would be murdered because she was visiting someone. The whole thing was very mysterious!  Nevertheless, we weren't afraid of a murderer in our street. We instinctively believed that this crime had nothing to do with us children.  We soon forgot all about it. It wasn't that exciting after all.  Our family gradually moved away from Schwanthalerhöhe. At the end of the 1940s, we moved with my grandmother to a larger flat at Maistraße 4 in Ludwigsvorstadt. For me, this meant moving to Tumblingerschule. In 1951, my father got us a flat in the post office block at Ruffinistraße 9 in Nymphenburg-Neuhausen. I had to go to a new school again, the Renata School. But I always made friends quickly, and many children lived in our block of flats. So it was no problem to make friends.  In 1953, after the 8th grade, I started my professional life at the age of 14. I did an apprenticeship as a carpenter in Kazmairstraße. So, every morning, I returned to my old home on Schwanthalerhöhe or in the Westend, whatever you want to call it.  What happened to me then is another story. (HB)

(DE) The distance between Landshut Main Station and Munich Central Station is approx. 77 kilometres. A cyclist can cover this distance in a good four hours. In earlier, happier times, the Deutsche Bahn regional train travelled this distance in 45 minutes. The regional train in 2024 will take four hours and 30 minutes.   Travelling with Deutsche Bahn ist often quite adventurous in 2024 So how can that be? Unfortunately, this railway story is told quite often these days.   Stranded again and again!   On 1 August 2024, Günther, a staunch rail traveller, starts his return journey from Landshut to Hamburg, his adopted hometown, at 11:30 a.m. with high hopes. He has travelled this route countless times. He knows that he will need time to change trains at Munich Central Station because the regional trains are not necessarily very punctual, and when booking, he has factored in possible delays. Günther is a very relaxed person and doesn't have a problem with waiting at any railway station. But what happened that day made even his temper boil. The regional train from Landshut to Munich usually stops in Moosburg an der Isar and Freising before reaching Munich Central Station. About 10 minutes after leaving Landshut Main Station, the train arrives in Moosburg according to schedule on this particular August day and stands and stands and stands... for an hour on the track. After waiting on the train for an hour, passengers are asked to leave because the train cannot continue its journey due to a signal box failure in Freising. Passengers should now wait outside the train for an alternative or find one themselves. Loudspeakers inform the stranded passengers of this and other possibilities for reaching destinations such as the airport or the central railway station. Anyone who originally wanted to go to Munich Airport with all their luggage is starting to worry. As a passenger, you plan several hours until check-in anyway. But this margin is now rapidly shrinking. Anyone who, like Günther, had planned to change to a long-distance train in Munich has lost all hope of reaching their booked train.   Hundreds of passengers, some with huge suitcases in tow, were stranded at the railway station in Moosburg an der Isar that day, unable to get on or off. Freising cannot be passed on any tracks and all routes from this location, whether to the airport, the central railway station or Munich city centre, lead via Freising. Naturally, this blocked route impacts all travelling traffic around Munich. Travellers are at a complete loss on the platform and the station forecourt, trying to understand the alternative routes by other means of transport, about which the loudspeaker provides information. Anyone with no local knowledge or who doesn't speak German has an awful time in a situation like this. At this point, you would need people who could provide advice and help answer the relevant questions or solve the problems. But they are no longer available at such a small railway station. No information desks! No railway staff at the station! The automatisation of Deutsche Bahn's service is certainly not helpful at times like this. Günther certainly makes himself useful. He advises those unfamiliar with the area or language as best he can. He translates the announcements into English and keeps calm. He sits and waits by the track, where there is no longer a train because there has to be another train at some point. It's hard to imagine that nothing is really going to happen. And lo and behold, a glimmer of hope appears on the horizon. After all, there is still a train to Freising. But that's the end of the line for anything travelling on the tracks, which means neither the train nor the S-Bahn can continue. He finally takes a bus to the airport, which is at the other end of the city and, therefore, a long way from his original destination, the central railway station. Though the idea seems tempting, he plans not to fly to Hamburg, but he knows an alternative S-Bahn route from there via Ostbahnhof can take him to the central station. And indeed, the plan works. Almost! At Ostbahnhof, however, all passengers are again forced off the S-Bahn because, on this day, no S-Bahn stops at the central station or any station on the main line (the main line on which almost all S-Bahns in Munich connect the east and west). They only run from Ostbahnhof in the east to Pasing station in the west but do not serve the central station in the city centre. If you've lived in Munich for a few years, you'll know another underground connection that isn't affected by the fiasco. Günther has this knowledge advantage and arrives at Munich Central Station 4.5 hours after his departure from Landshut. Tourists from outside the city may have taken a little longer, as the S-Bahn and U-Bahn connections are often quite confusing for strangers, even on days when everything is working. However, those days when everything runs like clockwork are becoming increasingly rare. So Günther finally stands in front of the DB (Deutsche Bahn) information desk in the late afternoon to enquire about a train connecting to Hamburg. He doesn't want to change trains again and would prefer to stay with friends in Munich and continue his journey home the next day. There are plenty of trains to Hamburg, the unfriendly DB employee at the ticket counter tells him brusquely, so he can't interrupt his journey to Hamburg until the following day unless he buys a new ticket. And after all, he had bought a super-cheap ticket, so he couldn't make such demands. Now, of course, you could argue that by buying a discounted ticket, you had also concluded a somewhat precisely formulated contract with DB, which one of the contractual partners, DB, could not honour. After all, passengers had something in mind when booking this particular connection. You would think that if one contractual partner, namely the passenger, now has to change all their plans and lose every comfort they had booked, such as a seat reservation or a direct connection, the other contractual partner would show goodwill and postpone the day of travel. Not at all! A ticket is a ticket for a journey from A to B, when and how it cannot, and obviously, it does not have to be guaranteed under all circumstances; only the day is fixed. Passengers have no room for manoeuvre - individual needs or not. Very well! Nobody has money to give away, so Günther decides to take the 17:09 train, which is due to leave directly for Hamburg. He calculates that he can still catch the last underground train to Volksdorf, a district in the north of Hamburg, and leans back and relaxes. Lucky him! But only nearly! In Hamburg-Harburg, it's hard to believe that history repeats itself. 'Everyone, please disembark! The train ends here.'  Well, and now Günther is happy that he has neither a suitcase nor a travelling bag to carry but a rucksack on his back, so he can use his two walking sticks, which he has to use as a walking aid. He has to hurry. The S-Bahn from Hamburg-Harburg takes him to Hamburg Central Station, but not home. There's an underground train to get there, but there's only a little time to get the last one. If he misses the connection, his only option would be to take a taxi. That would cost a good €60 for the journey. But he makes it and arrives home at 00:35, after a 13.5-hour train journey, getting stranded five times at stations and using his walking stick to make the last underground train.   An unfortunate isolated incident? A singular event? Just one-off bad luck? - Not at all! Some will now say that it can happen, that anyone who travels frequently by public transport has experienced something like this. After all, Germany has the largest railway network in Europe. Having lots of services would also increase the likelihood of problems. That is all true. And yet the deterioration is evident for railway employees and travellers alike. Several years ago, Deutsche Bahn advertised with the slogan 'Carefree travelling with the Bundesbahn'. This 2007 advertising slogan sounds like a joke in 2024. According to current statistics, punctuality can only be expected with a probability of around 60 per cent these days. And the railway infrastructure, i.e. the signal boxes and tracks, has been rotting away for several decades. Now, the peak of decay has passed, and everything is falling apart almost simultaneously, as railway employees publicly complain in the media. A journey like this is no longer carefree if you have to expect that you will get stranded somewhere in the middle of nowhere and there are no train attendants, service staff at the station or other helpful people from DB to answer questions, suggest solutions and take care of things.   Another example: the railway is trying to set up replacement services!   In June 2024, Carolin also got stranded on her journey from Munich via Nuremberg to Hof an der Saale. It's actually a good connection between Nuremberg und Hof, with a relatively frequent service and a journey time of one hour and forty minutes. But shortly after Nuremberg in Hersbruck, an emergency doctor is called to the track, resulting in a 45-minute wait. When the train finally continues its journey, the valued passengers are told that they all have to get off at the next station, in Pegnitz, because the train ends there. The railway is trying to set up an emergency bus service. In Pegnitz, a loudspeaker announcement asks travellers to wait in the station's forecourt. There is no rail replacement service far and wide, and there is no railway employee who can tell them more about the prospects of solving the problem. The loudspeaker announcement merely said that the rail company was trying, which, of course, does not mean that they will succeed. And what if the railway's attempts are unsuccessful and people get stuck in Pegnitz or possibly hours later in Hof?   It is now almost 5 pm. How long can you wait if you have to change to other regional trains in Hof, which don't necessarily run every hour? Such questions and fears are not overly anxious in a situation like this. Travellers would actually like to ask a DB employee about this. But there isn't one on site. Five fellow travellers and Carolin, therefore, decide not to wait indefinitely but to charter a taxi to Bayreuth together and have Carolin's husband pick them up there by car and drive them to Hof. Carolin finally arrives in Hof at 6.30 pm, having left Nuremberg on time at 1.14 pm.   In crises, humanity helps, not the app!   The annoying thing is not even the delay of a good two hours, but the danger that you can suddenly get stranded at any place, at any station, and that there is no human support, such as a trustworthy, competent service from a member of staff at these locations. It is unsettling that the railway only 'tries' to be reliable. And it is unbearable not to be kept constantly informed about the status of things. Of course, this is due to the universally lamented lack of staff, but not only that. Automation, from online ticket purchases to information via app, has enabled savings to be made on service staff. In crisis situations, however, you need people who can leave standardised paths and react appropriately to the situation. People who pick up the phone and call heaven and earth to find out when and how things will continue. Perhaps five minutes after the passengers in the taxi had left Pegnitz for Bayreuth, a bus would have turned up as a replacement means of transport. But if there is no up-to-date information, then you don't know whether you might only find out in the middle of the night that the journey can no longer be expected to continue.   You don't have to push the train! We have a locomotive!   This is what happened in the autumn of 2023 on a journey from Munich to Hof an der Saale. This regional train usually has a section attached to it that is detached in Schwandorf and continues to Prague. The delay, which had already accumulated up to Regensburg and was even longer in Regensburg, was no longer mentioned on the train. Every railway traveller in Germany is used to this by now.   But as soon as the train had left Regensburg station, the train attendant or driver informed the passengers that everyone had to get off the train in Schwandorf, as this train would not continue to Hof or Prague—end of the announcement. There was even an approachable train attendant, but unfortunately, he didn't know how to proceed either. We would just have to organise a locomotive! But how and when? Nobody knew. All the travellers then stood at a loss on the Schwandorf platform and didn't know what to do next. First, passengers travelling to Prague were given precise and reliable information: there would be no more trains to Prague that day due to damage to the track. Schwandorf may be a lovely little town in beautiful countryside on the beautiful blue Naab, but if you want to go to Prague, you won't be enthusiastic about it. Some people would have preferred to have been informed of the cancellation of their onward journey less than half an hour beforehand when still in Regensburg. This city can at least compete with Prague in terms of tourism. I don't know what happened to those travelling to Prague, as there were no announcements about rail replacement services or offers of assistance.  The people whose destination was Hof were told by chance via the illuminated sign on the platform that a train was waiting on another platform. There was probably no member of staff to make a loudspeaker announcement. We then learnt on the train that the replacement train had not yet found a locomotive. So we sat, waited, worried, joked, gritted our teeth and hoped! The train attendant or driver kept announcing we shouldn't give up hope. People laughed and rolled their eyes. And a while later, the redemptive announcement came: 'Dear passengers, I'm pleased to inform you that you won't have to push the train to Hof after all because we have a locomotive and will be able to depart soon.' Laughter and applause!   Phenomena of our time  Of course, no one was happy about the delay and the unfortunate circumstances and the uncertainty suffered, but the situation was more bearable than the scenarios described above because a human being, a railway employee, was present, at least with his voice and his humour. In crisis situations, people need someone of flesh and blood to talk to. People who care! Staff cuts, as planned by the railway management in 2024, are irresponsible against the backdrop of increasing unreliability on the railway lines.   Everyone in Germany, and since the problems during the European Football Championships also abroad, knows that the German railway network is dilapidated and parts of the infrastructure, such as signal boxes, are barely functional. This is the reason for increasingly frequent malfunctions of all kinds and for delays and strandings at some railway stations.   Many more stories could be added to the ones described here. Stranded in Essen, stranded in Stuttgart... In such cases, staff who can act as a reassuring point of contact and provide advice and assistance in solving individual problems are needed. Display boards, loudspeaker announcements, or mobile phone apps are not sufficient in such situations. (TA)   Further information on the reasons for the cancellation of Deutsche Bahn: https://www.sueddeutsche.de/wirtschaft/deutsche-bahn-verspaetung-fahrplaene-zugausfaelle-lux.2NC8cPRtQUSFjZ9Lsxbr2C https://www.sueddeutsche.de/wirtschaft/berthold-huber-interview-deutsche-bahn-verspaetungen-lux.22fhWeEybYXf7jSEQvtsAJ https://www.sueddeutsche.de/wirtschaft/deutsche-bahn-bilanz-sanierung-probleme-1.5778766 https://www.fr.de/wirtschaft/verkommene-gleise-hoher-profit-11700172.html (2019) https://www.sueddeutsche.de/meinung/deutsche-bahn-mitarbeiter-chaos-kommentar-lux.DoS6pReD4h7nYHTqDss2jF https://www.bundesrechnungshof.de/SharedDocs/Statements/DE/2023/db-dauerkrise.ht https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deutsche_Bahn

Dear Readers, We could not update our travel blog during our travels because of technical issues and the internet. Now we are back home and have updated and completed our blog in a new document called part 2.  https://www.rememberrelatereflect.com/en/post/epic-trip-to-australia-part-2 As so often, we want to escape the wet and miserable winter in the UK and the annoyingly overly soppy Christmas festivities, seek the sun and the heat, and stay away from the madness of the world. This year, we decided on a faraway destination neither of us has ever been to before: Australia. We have given ourselves two months off to go on what we like to think of as an epic trip to the other side of the world. The plan is to leave on Christmas Eve and fly to Australia via Hong Kong. We will spend three days in Hong Kong. We then continue to Melbourne, where we will spend a further three days and celebrate the coming of the year 2025. On New Year's Day, we fly to Tasmania, where we will pick up our motorhome and set off to explore the island's beautiful nature, wildlife, and extraordinary history. (After all, many of the convicts sent from Britain in the 19th century to serve their sentences in Australia ended up here.) After that, we will fly back to Melbourne, pick up another campervan, and explore some of the State of Victoria's National Parks as we travel along the famous Great Ocean Road. We will then drive to New South Wales and the Blue Mountains before finishing in Sydney, where we will stay for our final three days. From there, we fly home via Hong Kong. This is our rough plan, which I am sure we, or circumstances, will change. We shall wait and see where we end up and what we experience. Time will tell. If you want, you can join us on our adventure by visiting this travel blog from time to time. Hopefully, you will enjoy our blog as, hopefully, we enjoy our travels. We read many books to plan and organise our adventure. However, we must have an open mind and, more importantly, be flexible to not miss out on unplanned opportunities and adventures that we may come across. Notice to our readers: In order to safe luggage space we decided to take our iPads with us, rather than the bigger laptops. Unfortunately, the editing on our iPads isn’t fully compatible with the software of the blog. Therefore, to fully edit and upload the amount of pictures that we would love to show you, our readers, we will have to wait until we are back in London. Then you will be able to appreciate literally the fuller pictures of our travels. We apologise for this little hiccup but do our best with the photos we can upload. If we cant’t get a decent internet for the rest of our trip, then we won't be able to upload any more texts and photos while we're on the road. Don't worry, we'll catch up on that as soon as we're back in London. Tasmania travel 1.-31. January 2025 3.6 South Tasmania 24th to the 31st January 2025 Sorry guys for the delay in posting. But we were the last 6 days without internet in the South East of Australia. More about this later. Now back to our last days in Tasmania. After a week on the east coast we continued our journey south to complete the circle of our Tasmanian trip. We passed by Maria Island, which is very popular with tourists because of its expressive landscape and wildlife and would have been well worth visiting. However, we can’t stop everywhere - and our time is running out. Our next stop was Port Arthur. Port Arthur is a historic site located on the Tasman Peninsula in Tasmania. It is  renowned for its significance as a 19th-century penal settlement. Established in 1830, it served as a convict colony for hardened criminals and is now a UNESCO World Heritage-listed site, offering insights into Australia's colonial history. Visitors can explore the haunting ruins, including the penitentiary, guard tower, and church, as well as take guided tours to learn about the lives of convicts and the harsh conditions they endured. Port Arthur is a poignant reminder of Australia's convict past and a major tourist destination for those interested in the history of forced migration of convicts by the British Empire. Port Arthur Convict Colony About 12.500 convicts served their sentences here between 1830 and 1877. Exhibits at the visitor centre highlight that Port Arthur was more than just a prison. It was home to convicts, military and civilians and their families. The militaries and civilian officers were tasked with security and administration of the settlement. The convicts worked in many industries and produced goods and services for local use and to be taken to Hobart to be sold. For example, convicts worked in wood workshops, making everything from broom handles to renowned boat building. In particular, the boat building at Port Arthur became a successful industry because of the low salaries the convicts received and their boat building skills. Other workshops included shoemakers and blacksmiths. The site contained more than 30 historic buildings, many of them now ruins. Some were nicely renovated with beautiful gardens. These were mostly the sites where the military and civilian officers and their families had lived. Of the penitentiary only the outside walls remained, parts of the house was destroyed by a fire, others by neglect. Still one can see amongst the ruins the tiny cells where the convicts were held. A 20 minute cruise showed visitors around the peninsula, giving them the opportunity to see Port Arthur from the sea but also to see the “Isle of Death”,  the cemetery where convicts and soldiers and civilian workers were buried. Between 1833 and 1877 around 1199 people were buried at this settlement’s cemetery. The convicts did usually not get a gravestone. Another island is “Point Puer”. This was the boys’ prison. It operated from 1834 - 1849 and was the first juvenile reformatory in the whole British Empire. The new idea was to separate young offenders from the older convicts, to protect them from criminal influence of the older and hardened convicts. Most of the boys were aged between 14 and 17, the youngest were just 9 years old. One needs to know that at that time the legal age for prosecution was seven. Point Puer was known for its strict discipline and harsh punishment. Many of the boys also received an education and some were given the opportunity of trade training, i.e. as wood worker, shoemaker or blacksmith. The Penitentiary The hospital, of which only the outer walls were left, had two wings, housing six wards, a provision store, a kitchen with baking oven, a morgue and a waste collection room. Convicts and soldiers were treated on separate wards, while civilians and their families were usually treated at home. A plaque about Dr. Thomas Coke Brownell describes well the work of the physician at that time. “When Dr. Brownell returned to Port Arthur for his second round of medical service in 1840, his family had grown to 11. He and Elizabeth, at that stage had nine children. This stint lasted 15 months and he described it as ‘arduous and extensive’. With more than 1000 convicts at Port Arthur, the doctor was also medically responsible for the 600 boys at Point Puer, 340 convicts working the Coal Mine, not to mention the military personnel, civilian officers and their families. In 1842, he recorded having treated over 13,000 cases.” In more recent time the historical site became infamous for the ‘Port Arthur Massacre’, which refers to a tragic mass shooting that occurred on April 28–29, 1996, on the very site. It was one of the deadliest mass shootings in modern Australian history and a pivotal event that led to major reforms in Australia’s gun laws. A 28-year-old man, Martin Bryant, armed with semi-automatic rifles, opened fire at the Port Arthur historic site, killing 35 people and injuring 23 others. The attack spanned two days, with Bryant fleeing the scene and later taking hostages at a nearby guesthouse before being captured. The massacre prompted the Australian government, led by Prime Minister John Howard, to enact strict ‘National Firearms Legislation’ (the 1996 National Firearms Agreement). This included, a ban on semi-automatic and automatic weapons. Mandatory buybacks of prohibited firearms and uniform licensing and registration requirements nationwide. The reforms greatly reduced gun-related violence in Australia and are often cited globally as a model for effective gun control.  A memorial garden has been created at the Port Arthur site to remember its victims. We walked around the site for about four hours. Then we were exhausted. The experience was bleak, not helped by the cold and windy weather and dark clouds that contributed to an atmosphere of misery in this place. We needed a break and something to cheer us up. The best way to do this, was to visit the Tasmanian devils and kangaroos in the nearby Tasmanian Unzoo. ———— What is an Unzoo? The concept of an "Unzoo," pioneered in 2005 by zoo designers John Cole and Ray Mendez, reimagines traditional zoos by prioritising animal dignity and natural habitats over human-centric entertainment. Unlike conventional zoos with cages and enclosures, Unzoos remove or conceal barriers, allowing animals—both resident and wild—to roam freely in immersive environments while visitors engage in ethical, educational encounters with wildlife. The first intentional Unzoo, launched in 2007 on Tasmania’s Tasman Peninsula by Cole and the Hamilton family, focuses on conserving endangered Tasmanian devils and serves as a global model for blending conservation, ecotourism, and habitat restoration. By emphasising animal autonomy, natural coexistence, and transformative visitor experiences, the Unzoo challenges traditional zoo ethics, advocating for a future where humans collaborate with nature rather than confine it. ————- The Tasmanian Unzoo was very relaxed. They used this vast land of wild forest where these animals live and make it a pleasant and safe environment for the animals. Instead of organised tours for visitors you simply join one of their rangers in their work and they share their knowledge of working with these wild animals. We were lucky. We joined Dominique in his work around the place and he had a lot of experience, in particular of working with Tasmanian devils and their behaviour. We learnt, that Tasmanian Devils are almost blind and if they are frightened, they retreat into a dark safe place, in this case a round metal container. Our visit coincided with their mating season. That meant that the male devils are tense and aggressive. Dominique teased one of the devils by holding his booted foot close to him, and the devil, thinking this could be a rival male devil, started to bite the boot. This happened to Dominique although he has known this little devil since he was a baby and feeds him everyday, but, as said before, the mating season changes attitudes. A Tasmanian Devil Wombat Pademelon We then went over to the kangaroos and pademelons. They were lazily dozing in the grass or eating carrots. One of the females had a little one in her pouch, but all we could see was one leg sticking out. All the time we were there, the little one did not show its face. Then we learnt how to feed the birds. Dominique rang a bell indicating to the birds that it was dinner time. He poured a handful of bird seeds into our palms and we had not to wait long until the first green rosellas came and sat on our palms, picking the seeds out of our hands. Dominique also tried to attract the yellow bellied sea eagles by trapping a big tuna fishtail into a tree trunk. Only seagulls came, but the fishtail was too heavy for them to carry away. Dominique told us, that the tide was out, making the local small penguins easily visible. The sea eagles would then fly down and pick the penguins up with their claws, as they love to feed on them as they are full of proteins. Emu Dominique was originally from Seattle. He came to Tasmania 24 years ago and started working with a variety of wild animals, he loved the animals so much that he stayed. During COVID he was trapped on the East Coast at a Tasmanian Devil Conservation Centre. That’s were he learnt most of his knowledge about the Tassie devils. He has found his dream job working in the Unzoo and is devoted to this life working with and looking after these wild animals. And his enthusiasm rubbed off onto us. Whilst listening to him we lost track of time and before we knew it, it was closing time. We thanked him, wished him well for the future, then drove back to our camp. Hobart and the South On Sunday 26th January, we drove towards Hobart and the surrounding area. We only had five days left in Tasmania and wanted to see as much as possible. There are no campsites in the city of Hobart, so we stayed at a small campsite in the village of Snug, a 30 minute drive south of Hobart, the Snug Beach and Caravan Park. From there we could either go by local bus to Hobart or make use of their park and ride scheme into the capital. At the same time, we were well placed to explore the beautiful southern peninsulas. Snug is located opposite Bruny Island. We had originally planned to visit this island, which is well known for it spectacular scenery and gourmet local produce. It is separated from the main island of Tasmania by a channel, the D’Entre Casteaux, and can be reached only by ferry. It is home to a small population of people who prefer to live with nature, near beaches and forests. Bruny Island is divided into North and South and interconnected by a narrow passage of road surrounded by the sea. We were looking forward to this visit and were deeply disappointed when we were told by Apollo, our camper van rental company, that using a ferry with our camper van was forbidden. At least, now we could use the opportunity to drive along the costal road and see a glimpse of Bruny Island. At one of our photo stops, we met a friendly farmer. He told us that there was no need to go to Bruny Island as this stretch of land we were travelling on would be the same beautiful landscape. The only difference was that Bruny Island was full of tourists and expensive shops. He encouraged us to follow the coastal road all along and assured us it was all paved road and suitable for our camper van, and to enjoy the views of the channel but also visit the nice little villages and towns. After our friendly chat we thanked him for his recommendations. And that’s what we did. We greatly enjoyed our trip along the coast and drove through apple orchards, lovely fishing villages, drove along the river Huon and golden fields with rolls of hay that had just been harvested. We stopped for a welcome coffee break in a wonderful village, called Cygnet. The cafe we stopped at even had its own apple and pear orchard in the back garden which we were encouraged to walk through. In Franklin, one of the fishing villages, we spoke to a friendly guy called John, who was from Victoria. The reason he was in Franklin was that he and his friends took part in the bi-annual small boat race from Franklin to Hobart, along the river Huon. Everyone was very excited. Some had come from as far away as Perth to take part in this event. John told us, he originally came from Devon, in England. His parents came to Australia in the 1960s on the £10 Pom Ticket from England. He was 10 years old, and had a free passage to Australia as children travelled for free. In the 1960s, the 10 pound Pom tickets were a way for British citizens to travel to Australia for a reduced fare, instead of £110 (in comparison, an average annual salary in Britain in the 60s was £350). The scheme was part of the Assisted Passage Migration Scheme, which ran from 1945-1982, and was intended to increase Australia’s population with skilled workers for its growing economy. People taking part in the scheme were expected to stay at least a few years in Australia. Between 1945 and 1972, over a million migrants came to Australia under this scheme. It was most popular in 1969, when over 800.000 migrants came over. Some migrants returned home after a few years and were called by the Australians the “whinging poms”. The next day, Monday, 27th January was a national holiday (on Sunday 26th had been Australia Day). So it was free to park anywhere in the city of Hobart and we took advantage of this and took the camper into town. Hobart, the capital of Tasmania, is a historic city nestled at the base of Mount Wellington (Kunanyi), offering stunning natural landscapes and outdoor activities like hiking and mountain biking. Known for its colonial architecture and waterfront charm, it features the iconic Salamanca Square, with its many galleries, cafes, restaurants and shops in historic sandstone warehouses. There is a lot to see and do in Hobart. We strolled along the waterfront and the Salamanca Warehouses and the historic houses of Battery Point. Then we visited the MONA (Museum of Old and New Art). To reach the museum you take a scenic 25-minutes ferry ride from Brook Street Pier (the ferry itself features a pink cow carpet and a wine bar). The museum is Australia’s most provocative private museum. Founded by eccentric millionaire David Walsh in 2011, it blends ancient artefacts with avant-garde contemporary art, focusing on themes like sex, death, and existentialism. The museum is built on the cliffside beside the Derwent River and its subterranean, bunker-like structure is as striking as its contents. MONA ditches traditional labels in favour of its downloadable "O" app, which offers cryptic commentary. Known for bold installations (such a digestion machine or vulva casts), it hosts edgy festivals and has transformed Hobart into a global arts hub. A rebellious mix of art, architecture, and irreverence, MONA defies museum norms and has become a must-visit destination and transformed Hobart into a global arts destination, boosting Tasmania’s tourism and economy. We wandered around its many floors, found some of the art excellent, most weird, some questionable. Whether you love it or hate it, MONA is a must-visit museum for its audacity, innovation and refusal to play by the rules. We then took the opportunity of the glorious sunshine and good views and drove up the torturous road to reach the viewing platforms at the very top of Mount Wellington. Mount Wellington towers over Hobart, and is an iconic natural landmark and a must-visit destination. Its elevation is 1,271m and offers panoramic views of Hobart, the Derwent River, and Southern Tasmania. Its indigenous name is Kunanyi (Palawa kano language), reflecting its deep cultural significance to the Tasmanian Aboriginal people. View of Hobart from the viewing areas of Mount Wellington The drive with the camper van to the top was 20 km and took 45 minutes. It was at times a bit hairy because the road was narrow, steep and very curvy. And also the people coming down meeting the people coming up had its moments. It was beautiful at the top, but then we had the same nail-biting drive down again. We were very lucky with the weather, because on the next day, 28th January, it was cold, windy and cloudy. In the morning the temperature was 14C, but felt like 8C. We went back to Hobart, this time making use of Hobart’s park and ride scheme. We booked ourselves on one of the Hop-on-Hop-off City Loop double decker buses to explore the city’s sites. Very few people braved sitting on the open top deck because of the wind and the occasional showers, most of us huddled below deck, trying to keep warm. Although we got off on a few occasions to visit a particular site, like the Cascade Brewery or the Female Factory, it was a lazy, but enjoyable, way to get to know the key sites of Hobart. When we drove back to our campsite, we could see a bushfire in the mountains behind our campsite. Smoke from the bushfire was so dense, it blocked out the sunlight and the high wind blew the smoke over our campsite. Many fire engines passed along the main road heading to the source of the fire. Helicopters and seaplanes were constantly flying above us, bringing water to douse the flames. The fire continued burning all night and into the next day. It is the height of the summer in Tasmania and for the last few days everybody was told that the Government had banned fires, such as BBQs, because of the danger of bushfires. Bushfires - a constant threat In the remaining days we checked out the places that we wanted to visit, such as the animal sanctuary Bonorong in Brighton. At other times we just drove around, taking in the wonderful sites of the peninsulas south of Hobart, travelling along roads that hugged the shoreline. Now, on our last night, we have to clean the camper van, pack our bags as tomorrow we have to return the camper van to the rental company and fly back to Melbourne. In the last month we got accustomed to our life in the camper van. There are a few mistakes which you only make once, for example, hitting the shower button in the tiny bathroom while sitting on the toilet and getting drenched, or opening the camper door early in the morning without switching the alarm button off and waking up the whole campsite by the alarm. We also frequently hit our head on the upper shelfs until Dave stuck tea towels on them and fixed them with sticky tape. That helped a bit. It takes time to get accustomed to the small space in the cabin and one needs to carefully coordinate moving around. Otherwise, we loved it. It is great to have your own space and the freedom of the open road. We look forward to the next part of our holiday, the day after tomorrow, when we pick up our next camper van in Melbourne. Bye bye Tasmania. We drove 3800km in Tasmania in a month. Tasmania is a small island (as big as Ireland) and has a spectacular range of climates from rain forest to arid bushland, from mountain tops to wonderful golden beaches and deep-blue coves. On a sad note, Tasmania is the roadkill capital of the world. And because of this, certain species of wildlife are in danger of becoming extinct. That why it is important to support conservation projects as it is they, and not the Government, who do the vital work and most people who work in these conservation centres are volunteers and give their time freely. 3.5 East Coast. 17th to 24th January 2025 On Friday 17th January in the morning we undertook the long journey from Longford to the East Coast. Instead of the shorter route via the A3, which only takes about two hours, we took the scenic route via Lilydale, where we visited a lavender farm, tasted lavender tea and learnt how lavender is grown and their oil extracted. Then we passed by Scottsdale and did a detour to the Legerwood Memorial Carvings. This consists of a few trees whose branches were carved into people in memory of those local Tasmanians that fought and were killed in WWI. Earlier, in Scottsdale town we found a smaller carved tree in memory of local Tasmanians who have fought and died in the Vietnam war. In other places before too, we came across war memorials that honoured those Tasmanians that died in wars, be it the WWI, WWII, Korean War, Vietnam war, Golf War I and II. We wondered why people from remote Tasmania were involved, and lost so many of its people, in so many wars throughout the world. Was it their loyalty to the British Empire? The road was long and twisty, the landscape beautiful, varying from verdant forests and lush green pastures up in the mountains to arid dusty straw-coloured plains. Photographing does not do it justice, so we gave up. We passed by the town of Derby, that is nowadays a paradise for mountain bikers, as is the whole area. As time was running we skipped visiting the Pyengana Dairy, famous for green hills and its cheese making, as well as the St Colombia Waterfalls and the Pub in the Paddock where they feed local beer to their pigs. Perhaps we will find time to come back later. Now its time to visit the East Cost. We planned to stay for a week in this area. The East Coast of Tasmania with its classic seaside towns and peaceful hinterland villages has been a holiday destination for Tasmanians and mainland Australians for generations. It stretches from the Iarapuna area in the North (which includes Bay of Fires) to Orford in the South and is renowned for its excluded beaches, breathtaking national parks, fresh seafood and cellar doors (wine yards) with sweeping views. The East Coast counts various National Parks to its area, including the Freycinet National Park in the South, best known for its Wineglass Bay. We stayed for four nights at the St Helens Holiday Park. St Helens is the largest town on the east coast. It’s considered a great base for exploring the north east’s natural beauty and is just a few kilometres away from the beautiful Binalong Bay and the Bay of Fires. We arrived at our next campsite in St. Helens, at the Big4 St. Helens Holiday Park by mid afternoon. Once we’d checked-in and settled (meaning marking our spot by putting our chairs and table out) we set off again to explore the area nearby and perhaps find some fish to cook for tonight. Unfortunately, the crayfish shack is already closed and we continued driving in glorious sunshine beside Georges Bay onto a peninsula which leads to St. Helens Pt. There we admired the blue sea and met some brave Tasmanian families with children swimming and splashing in the cold water. The air was fresh too, about 18 degrees and very windy. Tasmanians are obviously used to. They laughed when we asked if they don’t feel cold, just a bit. We drove back home via a supermarket where we were able to get some local squid for tonight’s dinner. Yummy. Yummy squid! 18th January 2025 The next morning it was overcast but later the sun came out. First we went back to the  Bay of Fires Lobster fish shack where you can buy fish and seafood straight from the boat. We bought a whole lobster (for 54 AUD) and a big slab of Gummy shark fish that should last us for the next few day’s dinners. Altogether it cost us 75 AUD (£37.50), a feast of three dinners for both of us. Freshly caught, cooked and ready to eat! Yummy! There is a lot what one can do to explore Tasmania’s most colourful coastline: Cruising along the Bay of Fires or go on any of the many organised walking tours offered, including a four day/ three night guided walk through the bush. If you come in the right season, you can jump on a game fishing charter for deep sea adventures hunting marlin, albacore tuna and yellowfin tuna. Divers can explore underwater caves and colourful sea life. The area has also excellent mountain biking tracks, with a series of trails, including an epic 42 km wilderness trail from the mountain to the sea. We decided to do our own thing. We drove along the Binalong Bay with its great views of the Bay of Fires, which is known for its extraordinary, clear blue seas, brilliant white beaches, and the striking orange lichen covered boulders. The Bay of Fires, set between Eddystone Point in the North and Binalong Bay in the South, has stunning views and secluded beaches. Binalong Bay was busy with tourists and there were many cars on the road but hardly any parking spaces to get to the beaches. So we drove along the Bay of Fires, on twisty roads through forest and bush and stopped at various viewing points; we strolled along deserted beaches, we clambered onto rocky, lichen-covered headlands, stopped to take photographs and took in the wonderful landscape, that changed at every twist in the road. How did Bay of Fires get its name? Historians came up with various versions to this question. Some say, the bay was given its name in 1773 by captain Tobias Furneaux in the ship Adventure, who saw the fires of aboriginal people burning on the beaches. Others say, the name came from the orange lichen-covered rocks that glow bright in the sunshine. On the next day in the afternoon, we drove along St. George’s Bay and decided to walk to the other side of the peninsula to Beer Barrel Beach, 45 minutes each way. What we thought was an easy stroll along the beach led us through rough bushy landscape away from the beach. I was pretty scared that we would come across snakes, as we were told that all snakes in Tasmania are poisonous, but bravely walked behind Dave, stamping my feet to scare any snakes away. After more than 20 minutes walking along a small path through jungle and bush, we decided it was better to walk back and instead find a walk along the beach in the sunshine. Luckily we did not find any snakes. Walking through thick bush. Back on the waterfront, we met a woman on a jetty, fishing with her dog at her side. She had already caught two baby squids. We got chatting. She was local and used to go fishing with her Mum, who’d just recently passed away. So she continued fishing in memory of her. She told us that a few years ago she had to go to Melbourne, and as her mother did not feel well, she took her with her to get examined by a doctor in Melbourne. For months, she’d been complaining about pain but the doctors in Tasmania did not find anything wrong. In Melbourne, she was quickly diagnosed with terminal cancer, there was nothing they could do anymore for her. The daughter was angry and bitterly disappointed by the Tasmanian health care system and warned us, to be careful, not to get ill or have an accident here in Tasmania, as the health care was really bad. When we drove back we had an interesting encounter of a different type. Here is Dave’s report about it: As I drove back to the campsite I passed a police car waiting to come out of a side street. He followed me for many kilometres and kept his distance and when I slowed down, so did he. I could only assume, he’d already decided that he wanted to nick me and would follow me until I did something wrong. And when I did, then he could officially stop me and check my papers. We came to the end of the road and I turned right onto the main road. As soon as I did, he switched on his blue lights, drove up close behind and I stopped. He got out of his car and said to me “You can’t stop here, mate” and I said “But you wanted me to stop.” He said ”Drive on to a car park one kilometer ahead”. So I did. The reason for the stop? He said, I had pulled out dangerously in front of a car and made him brake so hard, he almost had to stop. That’s not what happened, but as a Brit you cannot argue with an Australian policeman. My licence was taken and checked and I was breathalyzed. Then I had to wait whilst the results came back. The test came back negative and I was given a caution. He said: “Don’t forget, you are in a camper van and they are longer than cars.” “Thank you, officer”. And - our camper van is the same size as a Ford Transit. I think, I’ll cover the Britz Camper Van rental decals from the sides and the back of our camper van. In other words, these rental camper vans stand out like a sore thumb as they are often driven by people that are not used to drive camper vans. So police treat them as an easy target, and just wait for the opportunity to pounce if somebody, who is not used to driving such a vehicle, makes a mistake, or they had been visiting a winery or distillery for tasting. Thanks God we had not taken up any of the many offers of wine and whiskey tasting. Our next stop along the East Coast was Coles Bay, a tiny seaside community, next to the granite peaks of the Hazards mountain range. The town is an ideal place for exploring the nearby Freycinet National Park and its abundant wildlife, including Tasmanian pademelons and wallabies (little kangaroo types), and echidnas (hedgehog like but bigger creatures). We stayed at the Iluka on Freycinet Holiday Park for 3 nights. Again, there is lots to do and see at Coles Bay and the Freycinet National Park. Coles Bay is the Gateway to the Freycinet Peninsula, which offers pristine beaches, coastal and mountain walks and native wildlife. Tours offer fishing, boating and rock climbing activities and the famous Wineglass Bay Cruise. It cruises for five hours along the spectacular coastline of Freycinet National Park, from Coles to Wineglass Bay and secluded beaches on the other side of the Freycinet National Park, that can only be reached by water, helicopter or a full day bush walk. The cruise was tempting as it promises spectacular views of the National Park and especially the Wineglass Bay and also of its remarkable wildlife, such as dolphins and whales, sea eagles and cormorants. However, the last few days were extremely windy and reports of people having been seasick on the cruise were putting us off. However, the humpback whales and dolphins have already started their migration north a few weeks ago, so there was even less chance of spotting and photographing wildlife. So we decided to save ourselves 300 AUD (£150) each for seats on the upper deck (with nibbles and drinks) and put it to better use, i.e. eating the widely praised local seafood. Instead, we explored the Freycinet National Park on foot. We walked to the Wine Glass Lookout Point and took photos of the stunning views of the bay and the surrounding mountains.  During the next few days, we also walked some of the other walks in the National Park and to secluded but reachable beaches, for example on Honeymoon Bay and Muirs Beach and to the Cape Tourville Lighthouse. View of Wineglass Bay at the Freycinet National Park Muirs Beach Walk to the Wineglass Bay Viewing Point Walk in the Freycinet National Park Wineglass Bay At the Cape Tourville Lighthouse we met a delightful couple from Belgium, Sita and Class, both nurses in the Emergency Department in their home town. They had finished the day before a tough climb up the Amos Mountain. In parts they had to climb on their hands and knees at it was scary and dangerous coming down the mountain as they did not have good walking shoes. They were lucky they made it down without too many scratches on their hands and knees. They’d decided to take a year out to tour around Australia. They started in October last year in Perth, where they bought a Nissan Patrol and modified it  to their own specifications, with a kitchen and fridge and a clam tent on top where they sleep. We had a long chat about life and travel on the road and wished them well for the rest of their trip. Once they were gone and all the other cars had left the car park too, a little Kangaroo appeared between the bushes eating grass and was not in the slightest bothered by us taking photographs. (But it sneezed twice into Dave’s face). Bless you!! We greatly enjoyed the stunning landscape, despite the heavy gusty wind and a temperature of 17C during the day at sunshine, which cooled down at night to 12C. And this is their summer!! Thankfully our camper van has central heating which Dave usually switches on at 6 am. We felt for our poor neighbours sleeping under canvas. When reading the tourist guides, the amount of tours throughout Tasmania to explore the local winery’s and whiskey distilleries and breweries is enormous; tour guides proud themselves of the gourmet cuisine in exclusive restaurants, promising a larger than life gastronomic experience. Especially, in the holiday paradise along the East Coast. However, that’s not what we found. Well, we did not do the wineries and distilleries or breweries as we were driving (and good thing we hadn’t when we were stopped by the police). The few gourmet restaurants we found were remote and rather expensive, even more expensive than London prices. That would okay if we were only for a week in Tasmania, which is what most tourists here do; but we are travelling for two months and have to budget. Other restaurants we found, were mostly mediocre and not worth their money. Anyway, we are both very good cooks and love cooking in our little camper van. So we were looking forward to buying fresh seafood and preparing it ourselves. But even that is a problem. We were so much looking forward to the East Coast having read the mouth watering reports of the abundance of fresh seafood you can find there. Unfortunately, that’s not what we found along this coast. There were very few, if at all, places to buy fresh fish, be it at fish shacks on the bays or in the shops, apart from the big supermarkets in big towns. For example, the only fish we found in the two general stores in Coles Bay was frozen fish fingers. Most of the fish caught in these areas either go directly abroad or to mainland Australia, or to the local fancy gourmet restaurants. Luckily, in the Coles Bay area, we found a place, 15 km outside of town, Freycinet Marina Farm, a small simple restaurant, which also sold seafood to take away for reasonable prices. We shared a platter of 12 fresh oysters to eat in their lovely place, and also bought 12 juicy king prawns and a bowl of scallops, which they carefully packed for us so we could take home and  cook for our dinner later. What did all this come to? 80 AUD (£40).  For that price you couldn’t even get two plates of breaded king prawns at the Lobster Shack Restaurant in Bicheno, where presumably the batter was so thick, that when you removed it, you were left with only shrimps left to eat. When we’d passed by the Lobster Shack Restaurant one afternoon to check it out, the place was full of tourists eating and drinking big plates full of breaded prawns, lobsters, oysters and fish and chips. We enjoyed our home cooked seafood and fish dishes and always find, the Luger-Lowe Restaurant is the best!! 3.4. Launceston Area and Tamar Valley 14-17 January 2025 14th January 2025 From Stanley we drove along the North coast on the A2 Bass Hwy. We stopped shortly in Devonport at the “Strait off the boat” fishmonger to stock up again on gummy (shark fish) and tiger prawns for tonight’s dinner and, after a delicious lunch with fish bites and fries, (in England we call this fish and chips) continued to Launceston though the Tamar Valley, the famous wine growing area. It took us until mid afternoon to arrive at our Caravan Park in Longford, which is a 20 minute drive south of Launceston. Our camping place was close to the river and there was a bench beside the river, a lovely spot, where we would sit and relax watching the river flowing past. A peaceful place on the river Once we settled in, we drove out again to explore Launceston, which is the second largest city in Tasmania after Hobart, and the third oldest in whole Australia, dating back to 1806. It presents itself as a cultural hub with its museums and art galleries. Launceston is also proud of its thriving food and drink scene, with its many restaurants and pubs, showcasing the wines from the nearby Tamar Valley Wine Region and the local craft beer. The city has been named the UNESCO City of Gastronomy.  We drove into town trying to find a petrol station before we run out of diesel and a place to park, which both became a difficult task because of the heavy rush-hour traffic and the confusing one way street system. Finally, we were successful and could even leave our van at the petrol station while exploring the town. We walked towards the river Tamar passing by the Queen Victoria Museum and Art Gallery (QVMAG) and the Royal Park. The town felt very busy, hot and windy and we decided, as there was so much more to see in this area, to concentrate on smaller towns and historical places. 15th January 2025 The next day we drove to Ross, a small town about a 50 minute drive from our base in Longford. We were interested to learn more about the history of this place. Like most of Tasmania, Ross was built on the back of convict labour. An example is the beautiful sandstone Ross Bridge  dating back to 1836, Tasmania’s second oldest bridge. The bridge is adorned with 186 enigmatic carvings that include people, animals and other motifs. The work was deemed of such high quality that the two convict stone masons, James Colbert and Daniel Herbert, overseeing the work, gained their freedom for their efforts. Ross Bridge built by convicts A plaque reports on the history of Ross and the building of the bridge. At the time of 1821, the town was little more than an inn by a crude bridge crossing over the Macquarie River. The area had been under military guard since 1812 to protect travellers and local settlers from attacks from bushrangers. With time, more settlers moved into town and more facilities and improvements were needed. So, a convict work gang was established to labour on the construction of public buildings, including the Ross Bridge. After the building work was completed in Ross the convict work gang of 40 men were moved to other areas for work, and the building where they lived was converted into the Female House of Correction and Hiring Depot . This new institution was designed to perform three main functions. As a “lying-in hospital” for pregnant convicts, with a nursery for newborn infants; as a “house of correction” for convicts on probation and for convicts who had committed offences while in the colony; as a “hiring depot”. Convict women would be hired out to landowners in the Ross and Campbell Town area for domestic service. The Ross Female Factory operated only or seven years, from March 1848 until the last convicts left in January 1855. More information here: Commonly called ”Female Factories”, the correct title for such establishments for female convicts was “House of Correction” as the name implies these establishments were a means of improving the habits of women. The methods used to reform convicted women changed over time. Prior to 1820, flogging and the iron collar had been used as punishment, but were replaced by solitary confinement and classification. Women were separated into three classifications, crime, second class and assignment class. This class system allowed the authorities to keep more hardened criminals separate from the minor offenders, and those awaiting assignment. Crime class women worked at the washtub or a similar hard labor; second class women worked at the lighter tasks of spinning, weaving or sewing; whilst the assignment class was charged with cooking and cleaning and were available for assignments to settlers in the surrounding area. After a female convict had served her six months probation period in crime class, she was made a pass-holder, meaning that she could leave the factory to work within the community, usually as a servant in one form or another. Farm servants, housemates, kitchen mates, nursemaids, or laundresses. Women who were not assigned, remained working in the factory. When a woman had served about 2/3 of her sentence and had not committed any more offences, she was eligible for a ticket of leave, which gave her greater freedom of employment. If a woman with a ticket of leave continued on the path of good behaviour, she could apply for a conditional pardon, which would remove the restrictions of her movement throughout the colony. This could be followed by an absolute pardon which was the final stage before a woman regained her freedom. The Ross Female Factory was designed to cater for up to 25 inmates. The first women arrived at the station in March 1848. Most of the female convicts at Ross were in the late teens or early 20s. The common reason for the transportation from England to Van Diemen's Land was stealing. Many prisoners were transported for a first or second offence and it was quite common for an offender to receive a seven year sentence for petty theft, such as stealing a handful of potatoes or onions at the time of the great hunger in Ireland and very poor living conditions in England. Female convicts with families were forced in all but few cases to leave their children in England, with relatives or in the hands of charitable institutions. Once transported to the penal colonies, very few convicts ever saw the native land again. Many female convicts were either pregnant while committing their crime and came over whilst pregnant, others became pregnant in the colony. Some may have been forced into sex, others volunteered sexual favours for protection. Getting pregnant while in the female factory was considered a crime punished by extension of their time in prison. The Ross Female Factory was similar to that in Brixton, London at that time. There were up to 40 children in the nurseries at the Ross Female Factory at any one time. The children spent day and night in the same room with only the nurses for company. After weaning,  there was little contact between mothers and babies. The mother had to serve a six months sentence in the crime class section as punishment for the immoral act of becoming pregnant out of wedlock. Despite poor living conditions, only 62 children died in the six years that the factory was operational. Of the 62 deaths recorded between 1848 and 1854, many were attributed to diseases of malnutrition or poor diet. 15 cases were ascribed to diarrhoea, of which six cases occurred during a four week period in 1852. Severe malnutrition, and feebleness were also common causes of infant death, as were congenital syphilis, catarrh, and lung related disease. However, the loss of a child due to these diseases was not only suffered by the convict women at these stations as staff of the factory also lost children. Source: Summary of information displayed at the Ross Female Factory exhibition and publications by the Female Factories Research Centre in Hobart. Little is left of the Ross Female Factory except for the recently renovated house that was used by the overseers and their families. The house now hosts an exhibition to tell the story of the female convicts. Ross was not the only place were female convicts were held in prison. Female factories were also in Launceston, Hobart and other places around the country. The Female Convict Research Centre in Hobart has also painstakingly researched the female convicts’ history and collected testimonies and evidence from descendants of some of these women to provide an insight into their life as convicts in the female factories in Van Diemen’s Land. Before coming to Tasmania, I became aware of their publications. For more information contact https://femaleconvicts.org.au 16th January 2025 The next day we visited the Tamar Valley, the beautiful area along the river Tamar, best known for their many vineyards growing wine that thrives in a cool climate. As we were overwhelmed with the amount of information on things to do in this area, we consulted a visitor centre in Exeter. We were very lucky as we meet a lovely older lady that enthusiastically recommended us some highlights to visit in the area. We diligently followed her advice and were not disappointed. First we visited one of the many vineyards that offer wine tasting, or as they call it “they open their cellar” which she recommended as it was very close to the Highway and on our way. (She did not tell us that her daughter was working there - also a very nice young lady). We strolled around the vineyard and admired their sun flooded terrace with a view over their vineyards. As it was mid morning and we were travelling in our camper, we declined their wine tasting offer and moved on to other places called Beaconsfield and George Town to explore more of Tasmanian’s history there. Here are a few of Dave’s observations of these places. Beaconsfield is a former gold mining town in the Tamar Valley. In March 1879 the governor of the town renamed it Beaconsfield, after the British prime minister Benjamin Disraeli, Earl of Beaconsfield. Before then, the town was known as Brandy Creek and was probably deemed an unsuitable name because it suggested intemperance. It became Tasmania's richest settlement when gold fever took hold in 1887. In 2006 the town made headlines when the mine collapsed and two miners were trapped underground. Of the 17 people who were in the mine at the time, 14 escaped immediately following the collapse. One miner, Larry Knight, was killed while the remaining two, Brant Webb and Todd Russell were found alive on the sixth day by miners Pat Ball and Steve Saltmarsh. Webb and Russell were rescued on the 9th of May 2006, two weeks after being trapped nearly one kilometre below the surface. A model of the working conditions in the mine displayed at the Beaconsfield Mine and Heritage Centre The mine closed many years ago, and beside it is now the Beaconsfield Mine And Heritage Centre.  The centre is a collection of experiences that allow you to enjoy and appreciate the history of the town and the Tamar Valley. It’s a place where you can lose yourself in history, play with treasures from the past, be entertained by interactive displays and live a different story around every corner, with buttons to press, levers to pull and tunnels to crawl through.There’s also a fascinating exhibition devoted to the rescue of the two miners. We had a good natter to Tony, originally from Birmingham, with his fantastic bushy silvery beard, who worked there as a volunteer. Tony from Birmingham works at volunteer at the Beaconsfield Mine and Heritage Centre We spent almost two hours wandering around the museum and the mine itself. The museum was such an interesting place and was also a treasure trove of memorabilia from yesteryear. In the background we could here songs sung by George Formby and Vera Lynn to accompany this particular period of history of the museum. The cost of entry to this most interesting museum? 15 AUD, including oldsters discount. Bass and Flinders Maritime Museum  is situated in Georg Town, on the eastern side of the Tamar River. The entry fee was a discounted 10AUD. We were the only people in this small maritime museum. One of the two assistants must’ve taken a shine to us, because she gave us a guided tour and in particular around the replica ‘Norfolk’, which proudly takes pride of place in the museum. This is a replica of the original Norfolk which took years of dedication and donations to build. On the 200 year anniversary, in 1998, a group of dedicated sailors, movers and shakers re-enacted the voyage that Bass and Flinders undertook in 1798 in this very sloop, which defined Van Diemen’s Land as an island separate from mainland Australia. The inside of the Norfolk is so small and seemed to be all sharp edges and corners. I can only imagine how it must’ve felt like to have been inside during stormy weather. How could such a small boat survive the roaring 40s of the Northwest Corner? No wonder they needed surgeons on such voyages! A replica of the Norfolk Fraternising with the Crew Who were Bass and Flinders? George Bass was born in 1771 in Aswarby, Lincolnshire, England. He graduated as a surgeon at the age of 18 years (after a two year apprenticeship) and joined the navy. Matthew Flinders was born in 1774 in Donington, Lincolnshire, England. He served as a midshipman in HMS Providence with William Bligh, (best known for the Mutiny of HMS Bounty in 1789, when the ship was under his command). Flinders and Bass will always be remembered as the first circumnavigators of Tasmania, then known as Van Damien’s Land, proving the existence of the strait and, as a consequence, that Van Damien’s Land was indeed an island, separate from what is now known as Australia. Flinders himself was one of the greatest maritime explorers the world has ever known, particularly as he was not yet 30 years of age. The stretch of water between Australia and Tasmania was named after George Bass, after he and Matthew Flinders sailed across it while circumnavigating Van Diemen’s Land, now named Tasmania, in the 25 ton sloop ‘Norfolk’ in 1798-99. At Flinders recommendation, the governor of New South Wales, John Hunter, in 1800 named the stretch of water between the mainland and Van Diemen’s Land, Bass’s Straits. In 1798 it became known as Bass Strait. Bass Highway is also named after him. ———— After our dip into Tasmania’s history, we returned happily to our campsite where we sat on our riverside bench drinking cold beer in the sinking sun with ducks as companions, the only wildlife on offer on this campsite. 3.3. The North and North-West Coast Friday, 10th January 2025: Our next destination is Stanley, from there we want to explore the North and North-West area. Glad to be on the road again! Whilst we have started our journey by flying into Hobart in the south of Tasmania from Melbourne, many people start from Devonport in the north, having crossed Bass Strait on the ferry boat Spirit of Tasmania from mainland Australia. We bypassed Devonport and drove along the coastal Bass Highway, stocking up at a Woolworth supermarket in Burnie, a port town overlooking the Bass Strait. Then we continued to Stanley, where we had booked our next campsite, the Stanley Caravan Park. We are booked in for 4 nights  as there is much to see and explore in the area. The first thing we noted was that it was very windy. I refused to come out of the camper because the cold wind was so strong. In the afternoon, however, the wind calmed down and we went for a walk to explore. The campsite is located directly on the beach, so we strolled along it, visited the local lobster shop/restaurant to see what they had on offer and at what prices. Then we walked up the hill into town. Like many places in Tasmania, the North and North-West have an impressive history, which is worthwhile researching. More about that later. Stanley is the original headquarters of the famous Van Diemen’s Land Company. It retained its historic village atmosphere with its magnificent Georgian and Victorian cottages and beautiful long beaches. Stanley boasts the world’s freshest air and the cleanest water. It is settled beside, what the local people call, the Nut, a big volcanic flat-topped mountain, which is almost surrounded by sea and rises 152 metres from Bass Strait. We walked passed Stanley’s many well preserved colourful cottages. For example, Lyons Cottage, a colonial-style house, built in the mid 19th century as accommodation for the Darwin Cable Company management staff and their families. The cottage was the birthplace and childhood home of Joseph Lyons, a former premier of Tasmania (1923-1928) and Tasmania’s first prime minister of Australia (1932-1939), who became one of Australia’s most popular prime ministers. We were walking on hallowed ground. Lyons Cottage, birthplace of Joseph Lyons, Former Premier of Tasmania Afterwards, we admired some of the lovely cafes, pubs, the post office and several shops before it was time to go back to the campsite. Enjoying the beautiful houses in Stanley We just managed to finish our dinner, when the wind sprung up once again and continued all night. I woke up at 1am because something was intermittently knocking against the camper van. I tried to figure out where the noise came from. Dave was asleep and I did not want to disturb him. I tried to sleep but with the banging noise there was no chance. Finally, at 3am Dave also woke, wondering what that noise was. He then climbed out of the van to check but could not find anything loose. We went back and, depending on the wind direction, the banging noise continued. Perhaps it was the air conditioning unit on the roof? But how should we get up there in a howling gale the middle of the night without a ladder? Dave hung his head out of the van to watch and listen. Then he noticed that the cover above the plug where the electricity cable was connected was flapping in the wind. We could not disconnect the electricity cable, so what else could we do to fix this? Armed with some tea towels and plastic bags and string Dave went out again into the storm to try to fix it. It worked. We could get back to sleep. But now, in addition to the howling wind, we also heard the local wildlife, like wombats, barking. Finally, we both fell into a deep sleep. Saturday, 11th January 2025 The next morning was a household day. Making use of the campsite’s facilities, we washed and tried our clothes. At the washroom we had a chat with our neighbour, Gail. She was from Victoria and when she retired she bought a camper van and since then travels and continues to travel around Australia, mostly on her own, but sometimes one of her grown-up daughters joins her for a few days or a week. One of them has just visited her but went back yesterday to Melbourne as she had to go back to work. That’s why Gail was washing a few duvet covers. She is a feisty lady, down to earth and not easily scared by anything. I bet that’s the attitude you need when travelling on your own through the Australian outback with a camper van. After our chat and whilst the washing was drying we wrote our diaries in our camper and had lunch - inside as the wind continued to howl. In the afternoon, we walked out of town to visit Highfield House. This is an estate that had been built at the early 1800 for the manager and his family. Also on the estate was the barracks for the convicts.  The house had been lovingly renovated and had great views over the bay, the Nut and of Stanley itself. Nowadays, it is a museum shedding light onto the dark history of the life’s of convicts and the indigenous people of this area. Of the convicts’ barracks only a few ruins remain. After a long steep 45 minutes uphill walk, we arrived at the estate, but were told that the house was closed today as they were hosting a wedding. What a shame, we had walked all that way for nothing. Hopefully, we can find time to come back again. We walked around the area to get a glimpse of the barracks, but were put off by the many flies that appeared from nowhere. Our rucksacks were full with hundreds of flies. In panic, I noticed that about 40 of them had descended on my wounded knee. Disgusted I waved them away. Nasty flies everywhere Dave tried to make a picture of a very old tree and tried to pull away a bush that was in the way of his intended intended. Suddenly, he shouted out and kept up. He had not noticed the electric fence that prevents people from entering the estate and the sheep from escaping. He got an electric shock and won’t be doing that again. Beautiful ancient tree We watched the happy wedding couple being photographed with a stunning backdrop of the bay and the Nut, and then we made our way back to the campground. We enjoyed a refreshing beer sitting at our table in the sunshine, guarded from the wind by a tall hedge. The plan was to prepare our meal early and continue writing up our diaries in the camper afterwards. However, Gail, our neighbour, joined us with a big glass of Scotch in her hand. We started chatting. Two hours later, and rather cold, we hurried inside the van, quickly prepared our dinner. Then it was time to go for a walk along the beach promenade just after sunset, to get a glimpse of the little penguins, that we were told clamber up the rocks out of the sea and strut along the beach promenade at dusk. The night before we missed them. This evening we were determined to wait until we finally saw them. A little later we saw two little penguins, about 30cm tall, waddling along, not disturbed in the least by people watching them. Unfortunately, it was dark and they were difficult to photograph. Yet we managed to get a few pictures of the little fellows. After a long wait a little penguin poses for Dave Sunday, 12th January 2025 Today we wanted to do the famous Tarkine Drive into the Wilderness of the Northwest of Tasmania. But before we got started, I noticed that I could not close one of the drawers were the pots and pans are kept. Without them safely stored away, we could not move the camper. Dave’s screwdriver toolkit came into action and he took out all the three drawers and fixed the loosened screws, then put the drawers back again. Problem fixed. That’s the problem with rented vans. Those renting them don’t care, neither do those who are suppose to maintain them. If it was ours, we (Dave) would have kept it spotless and well maintained. After the camper was ready to do, we drove the short distance to Smithton, where the Tarkine Drive starts. It is a drive through the dramatic and breathtaking wilderness of Tasmania’s Tarkine region, the greatest expanse of cool temperate rainforest in Australia and the second largest in the world. The tourist information promised us that “we would experience unique fauna and flora, globally significant rainforests, wild river landscapes and dramatic coastlines. This scenic drive is full of walks, lookouts, sites and picnic spots for you to explore.” Some people spend a few days and stay in remote campsites, others do day trips to different areas, or, like we, do the run in one day, which will take about 4-6 hours. The tourist map we were given showed 22 sites worth exploring and we looked forward to this. Yet soon we become aware of the short-comings of travelling with a camper van in Tasmania. Most of the sites are off road and remote and can only be reached via an unpaved road for which a 4x4 vehicle is needed. Here is the difference between tourists from other parts of the world and Tasmanians. Tasmanians, and many Australians too, prefer the big 4x4 pickup trucks with twin-axled caravans in tow, rather then the lower ground clearance of camper vans like ours. And, as we could see clearly, that’s what you need if you want to explore such interesting remote areas. Okay, we have to make do with what we’ve got and could only visit the more easily accessible sites, such as the Julius River picnic place, where we stopped and went for a lovely walk into the rainforest alongside a stream. Walk along the Julius River into the rainforest We enjoyed driving along the road, admiring the huge trees and the stunning rainforest landscape as we passed by. There were very few vehicles on the road and hardly any wildlife to see, apart from a large kangaroo that jumped in front of our van into the road. Luckily, Dave reacted quickly and we did not hit it. To add to our frustration, we couldn’t even make it to the Edge of the World, which is the most western part of Tasmania with its supposedly exhilarating views of the Western Tarkine coastline, as it was not accessible to our van with its low ground clearance. Never mind, a short distance later we managed to drive along a road that lead to some private houses and enjoyed the view from there. It is stunning, but not really beautiful, as the sea is very rough in this part of the world because of the constant heavy wind and storms. The beach and the rocks were rugged and littered with huge logs and other debris. Obviously, there must have been a storm at sea, no doubt as a result of the famous roaring 40s. (See Dave’s text below). The Tarkine Drive ends at Marrawah and we overcame our misgivings of not having seen more of this stunning wilderness, sat on the veranda of the Marrawah Inn drinking the best cappuccino and English breakfast tea that we had had for a long time. The Marrawah Inn - the best capuchino Apart from that one kangaroo and the occasional roadkill, we had not seen any wildlife, although many signs on the road remind drivers to be aware of the Tasmanian Devils that spring out of the forest onto the road between dusk and dawn. On the way back we went into Woolworths in Smithtons to buy some lemons for our tasty fish dinner tonight. A woman heard me complaining to Dave about the high prices of the little lemons on offer. She agreed and offered to give us a few lemons from her lemon tree in her garden. Perplexed I agreed and she gave me her home address, which was not very far from the supermarket. After we finished our shopping, we passed by and there she was waiting for us with four lovely fresh lemons straight from her tree. We thanked her, wished her and her husband well and drove off. When we returned to our campsite, Gail was gone and instead we were surrounded by three new neighbours with huge 4x4 pickup trucks and tall caravans. They took over the place we felt we had no space at all in our little van. Luckily, we had the better view of the beach. Our new neighbours were from Victoria and Melbourne and presumably had come over on the Spirit of Tasmania ferry. I shudder to think what that might have cost them. Monday 13th January 2025: This day we went up to the Nut, a big volcanic mountain with a history. The Nut’s story is that over 13 million years ago, lava shot through the Earths’s surface, cooled and formed basalt. It had been given several names over time, but the name The Nut has stuck. The Nut - a volcánic flat-topped mountain One can take the chairlift or climb up the steep hill. Once on the top, a windswept plateau of hardy shrubs, there is a circular walk of 2.5km with lookouts and stunning views of 360 degrees of Stanley, the neighbouring area and the surrounding ocean. It was worthwhile getting up to the top. We walked around enjoying the views and searching for wildlife. A few wombats appeared shortly, but hid away in the dark shades of the bushes. Great views from one of the many Nut lookouts There are also signs informing that short tailed shearwater birds migrate to the Nut each year and breed a single chick in the burrows that are all around us. After laying her egg, the mum spends two weeks feeding at sea while dad incubates the egg. When she returns they take turns to incubate for a total of 53 days. The chick hatches around the third week of January. Both parents fish during the day and return at night to feed their chick by regurgitation. The chick gets big and fat and after a few weeks the parents leave and the chick has to fight for survival by itself. Now it has to learn to fly and by doing so, uses up half of its body fat; once it can fly it has to learn how to hunt for food. Learning by doing, interesting parenting concept. Afterwards, we drove to Woolnorth, the most north-western part of Tarkine, a very remote area, known for its windy and grim climate and the history of the Aborigines. Because of the wind they are now many wind turbines on Cape Grim making full use of the roaring 40s. We came as far as Woolnorth, then the rough road was unsuitable for our camper to continue. We then wanted to enquire about tours in the area at the Woolnorth visitor centre, but were informed that they only offer one tour per day and that’s in the morning, and that had passed already. Unfortunately, today was our last day. Even so, we used the opportunity to learn more about the history of this area in their remote unmanned information centre. Aspects of Tasmania’s rich history: Beside its beautiful and impressive landscape, Tasmania also has an interesting, often dark, history, with regards to colonialism, the treatment of the indigenous people and the use of convict labour to help build the infrastructure of the infant country. Everywhere in the country one is being made aware of its history. We try to collect and include some information in our blog, but our time, space and knowledge is limited. In the rough and windy North-West at Woolnorth and Cape Grim, we came across some information on the roaring wind and its effect on the landscape and its people, whose content is summarised below. The roaring 40s wind that hits the hilly coast line at Woolnorth: Constant westerly winds sweep around the earth's high southerly latitudes. Sometimes they whisper - more often they roar. Since the days of tall masted square-riggers, sailors have called these winds the roaring 40’s. The hilly coastline of Woolnorth in northern Tasmania is the first land the winds have touched since they whistled past the crags of Cape Horn, in southern Chile, 20,000 km away. Once, their restless energy, filled white sails and drove the great grain ships western. Today these wonderful winds spin the slender turbine blades of Hydro Tasmania’s Woolnorth wind farm. In 1642 the Dutch explorer, Abel Tasman, claimed the land for the Netherlands (he never set foot on the island) and named the land ‘Van Diemen’s Land’ after the governor of the Dutch East Indies, Anthony van Diemen.The island was part of the colony of New South Wales from 1803, but became a separate colony in 1825. In 1824 eleven influential English bankers, politicians and businessmen formed the Van Diemen’s Land Company, aiming to benefit from government land grants and the ready availability of labour, by establishing a fine wool industry in Britain's far-flung colony. In 1825, King George IV, granted the newly formed company 25,000 acres of land (later extended to 350,000 acres) under a Royal Charter that has survived to this present day. Seeing the opportunity to open up and settle new regions, Governor George Arthur insisted that the VDL Company select land ‘beyond the ramparts of the unknown’ in the far northwest.They selected 20,000 acres at Circular Head and another 100,000 acres at Woolnorth on the far northwestern tip of the island. It was still not enough for the large flocks of fine wool sheep they planned to establish. Time was running out. The first shipload of indentured servants and livestock were already on the high seas, and the decision had to be made. With no other choice available, Circular Head (now called the Nut) was picked as the site of the VDL Co’s first settlement. The sheep sent to graze at Hampshire Hills and Surrey Hills found only poor quality native grass lands. Bitter cold and predatory thylacines, Tasmanian tigers, were common in this area during the second half of the 19th century and the early 1900s and they attacked the sheep. Woolnorth employed a full time trapper to eradicate them. Of the 5500 sheep taken there, only a few hundred survived. It was a financial disaster for VDL Co.  One interesting fact from those bygone days. Van Diemen’s Land didn’t have gorse bushes. Modern day Tasmanian has Gorse bushed in abundance. Why - because the sheep they brought over from England had gorse seeds in their woollen coats. The British Government transported about 76,000 convicts to Van Diemen’s Land between 1804 and 1853. The island was a penal colony for English convicts and the name came to evoke the brutality of convict transportation and ethnic conflict with the Aboriginal people. Later, the name was changed to Tasmania, to shake off the association with its dark history. Source: Information at Visitor Centre Woolnorth. After an informative day we enjoy the sunset over Sawyer Bay Tuesday, 14 January 2025 Our days in Stanley were over and we were heading to our next stop in the midlands, the area of Launceston. Still, before we left the North-West behind, we visited the Highfield Estate one more time to get some more information on the history of what was then known as Van Diemen’s Land. Highfield House was very influential in the development of the area, the use of convicts to establish the Estate and the treatment of Aboriginal people. More details below. Highfield House with stunning views of the Nut with an intriging story The Story of Highfield The story of Highfield is one of colonial expansion, commercial opportunism and cultural arrogance. It is also about extraordinary human endeavour and courage in the face of the unknown. Highfield was established in 1827 as the headquarters of the Van Diemen’s Land Company (VDL) and became a government house in this part of the colony. The company was established in Britain as a financial venture into fine wool production, which had become a lucrative business in the colony. Hopeful of receiving a large fertile land grant near Port Sorrel, the company was optimistic. However, by the time their agents arrived in the colony, the growing settlement had taken up the easily available land and only land much further west was all that was on offer. Early expeditions had found little to praise in the windy and rough far North-West. Edward Curr is the central character of the Highfield story. In 1826, at 27 years of age, he was made the Chief Agent for the Company and Magistrate of the North-West, which gave him a lot of power. He was called the Potentate of the North because the Company’s extensive holdings were perceived as a powerful and privileged colony within a colony. Expectations and views of the country In the following years, the Van Diemen’s Company employed many settlers that came out here for a number of years as contractors to help establish the Colony, earn a lot of money and gain prestige. Many of them were bitterly disappointed upon arrival. Instead of comfortable houses as they had been used to in England, here they had to live in tents, wooden huts amongst the surrounding mountains. Some were sent to a less cultivated settlement and all were displeased. Even more so, when they found out they were not paid in English currency. The country was dismissed as ugly by many of the early settlers, and the forests were considered as gloomy, monotonous, and melancholy. The Convicts The convicts were essential to the success of the company. Many of the convicts were highly skilled builders and were responsible for the construction of Highfield and its surrounding buildings. Irrespective of their skills, the convicts were not paid for their labours, but worked under a system that was basically slavery. Curr praised the work of his convicts. However, he has also been accused by some historians of being brutal. Curr employed a flogger and the flogging raid under his authority was double that of the rest of the Colony. Curr was described as a man who controlled his convicts and indentured servants with an iron hand, authorising twice as much punishment as anyone else in the colony at the time. Most recently, some historians have argued that his near absolute power enabled him to turn a blind eye or possibly even sanction violence towards the Tasmanian Aboriginal people. Some even accuse him of genocide. The convict barracks were built in 1834 and housed 40 convicts, who helped to build Highfield Estate. This number rose to 80 before convict transportation ceased in 1853. The Tasmanian Aborigines The Tasmanian Aboriginal  people, the indigenous people of Tasmania, have preserved the culture of a millennia through storytelling. What is known has been handed down for generations through stories, myths and memories. It has also been pieced together from the observations in the journals and diaries of European explorers, visitors and settlers, and in the official recordings of the colonial authorities. For tens of thousands of years, this once heavily wooded terrain with its abundance of food, had been home to aboriginal people. Less than 10 years before Highfield House was built, few white people had set foot on this land. In the 19th Century, the far Northwest became a haven for aborigines who had been pushed out of the settled area. However, between 1824 and 1831, the aboriginal population was all but destroyed. Some say they died mostly from disease, others believe that many had been murdered in what had become known as the black war. Of the thousands that were estimated to be living on the island when white men arrived, only 200 were exiled to the islands in Bass Strait by the colonial government in 1834. Some historians believe that Edward Curr and the men under his authority played a significant role in the Aboriginal demise. Source: Exhibition Highfield House We found much more interesting information at the exhibition in Highfield House which, of course, we cannot include in our blog. They include the life stories of convicts and aboriginal people working here as well as comments and tales by visitors to the house. All carefully written up in ledgers to preserve the rich history of the early development of this part of Van Diemen’s Land. 3.2. Gowrie Park and Cradle Mountains Dave’s Part : 07 January 2025 Another 5C night and it is freezing cold in our camper van. Even beneath our own duvets. In the morning at 06:30 I switch on our heating. We write our diaries while drinking cups of tea and coffee and just after 08:00 go for a shower in the communal block. We have to leave the site by 10:00. We say good bye to our nosy neighbours, unplug and drive off. Our next site is Gowrie Park Caravan. On the way we stop at Woolworths to get more corn on the cob husks, chicken breasts and a writing pad for Lisa. We stop in Sheffield and have a walk about. Nice town. We meet a man walking his Lama on the Main Street. We drive to Gowrie Park. It is a small site but has all the facilities including WiFi. Mole Creek was nearby, where Trowunna Wildlife Park is situated. It’s (allegedly) the worlds largest and longest running Tasmanian Devil breeding programme. It closed at 17:00, so we decided to drive there. We arrived at 16:00, which gave us an hour inside. Quoting from their website.   Trowunna is a privately owned wildlife sanctuary where native Tasmanian fauna and flora thrive. Trowunna started caring for Tasmania’s native animals in 1979 and it continues to be at the forefront of conservation and education in the state. The Sanctuary is currently involved in five separate conservation breeding programs that will ensure the survival of these threatened and endangered species. The Sanctuary has 70 acres of natural habitat to wander around and enjoy with free ranging Kangaroos and waterfowl to hand feed along the way. We have wildlife interactions to suit everyone! Our free, daily interactive tours are family friendly and are included in the price of your entry fee. If something more in-depth is your thing, then maybe our 1-2 hour VIP tours or a 4-hour Trowunna experience would be more suitable. Trowunna has been at the heart of Tasmanian wildlife conservation and education since 1979. The Sanctuary was instrumental in the establishment of the Save The Devil program and the training of keepers from around the world necessary for the devils care. We were very impressed by our visit, and the people we met, who looked after the animals, were 100% dedicated to the welfare of these animals. Two Tasmanian Devils faced each other off, their faces close. They opened their mouths wide, displaying huge fangs and then gave the most blood-curdling screams. We thought they were fighting, but the keepers said the were merely talking to each other. If that was the case, then I’d hate to be close-by when the fought! I was most impressed too by the kangaroos. One in particular posed for me, together with her baby in her pouch, who I swear popped it’s head out and gave me smile too! Yesss!!!! Tasmanian Devil Kangaroo mum with baby We drove back and had a cold beer outside and later dined on our delicious Fajitas sitting outside at our table in the sunshine, looking up at the surrounding peaks. We enjoyed a bottle of wine and then went to bed. 08 January 2025 Another chilly night and we breakfasted in the campervan. We drove to Cradle mountain information centre info park. The road was very hilly and twisty and it took us 45 minutes. We paid our entrance fee of 35 AUD each, no discount for oldsters. However, the passes are valid for 72 hours. We took the 20 minute shuttle bus ride to the end and got off at Dove Lake. Cradle Mountain-Lake Saint Clair National Park is a rugged 1262 square-km area of mountains, river gorges, lakes, tarns and wild alpine moorland and are part of the World Heritage-listed Tasmanian Wilderness. You're in an alpine region here, where weather can change rapidly. Within an hour you can experience burning sun, high winds, heavy rain and snow, so you must wear appropriate clothing. We had gusty winds and it was very hot, so we carried extra water and a waterproofs in our rucksacks, just in case and of course Factor 50+ suncream. We took the popular three-hour Dove Lake circuit, as did many others. This undulating 6.5km track wove its way through rainforests, small lakeside beaches and all beneath the towering peaks of Cradle Mountain itself. Cradle Mountain Visitors are well catered in this well organised park and many of the shorter trails are covered with all-weather boardwalks that course through the landscape. There’s also a convenient hop-on hop-off shuttle bus service to take you around the various parts, Ranger Station, Snake Hill, Ronny Creek and Dove Lake and is the easiest way to explore the best of the parks shorter walks. For the more adventurous, there are several longer walks, something like eight or nine hours and are more suited to Alpine walkers and there are many mountain refuges for those who wish to spent the night in the mountains. Dove Lake with Cradle Mountain Tasmanian Aborigines were in this area 35,000 years ago, but there are few signs of their indigenous heritage. There’s an abundance of wildlife in the mountains. The endangered Tasmanian Devil, spotted tailed quoll. Wombats are everyone’s favourites and we saw several around Ronny Creek. They’re gentle creatures, unlike the scary Tasmanian Devils. Afterwards we took the bus back to the Visitors Centre, walked to our camper van in the car park and then another 45-minute drive home along the steep twisty mountain roads. Twisty roads towards Cradle Mountain We worked on our photos, diary and blog, before having a well deserved cold beer and later cooking dinner, the other half of our fajitas and tortillas, but before our sumptuous meal, we had our first course: micro-waved corn on the cob husk. We switch on the heater as it is going to be another cold night. My knee was sore after the walk. 09 January 2025 Problems uploading photos from iPhones to iPad. The same problems uploading text and photos onto the blog. It’s a late start because of the technical problems and then we need to drive to Sheffield to buy a new kettle as the old one kept blowing the main fuse. We contacted Apollo road support department about the kettle and they said we can spend up to 20 AUD for buying a new kettle. In the whole of the town of Sheffield they only have one kettle, and that cost us 26 AUD. We can discuss these 6 AUD with the help desk later. From Sheffield we drove directed to Cradle Mountain because, as I said before our passes are valid for 72 hours. This time we took a shorter 2 hours walk, which took us a lot longer because we were constantly stopping to take photographs.  Lisa fell and landed in wombat shit. An hour later she fell again and gushed her knee. Not her day. We got back to Gowrie Park at 19:30. Lisa showered and then we fixed her knee and then we cooked mainly vegetable for dinner from the Aussies who gave us what they had left over as they were going back to Sidney in the evening. First they had to drop off the camper van in Launceston and from there it was only a 1 1/2 hours flight. For them this was classed a long weekend. The evening was calm and warm and pleasant and we sat outside at our table drinking a bottle of wine, watching the setting sun, which is 21:45. We went back into the van, watched a few music videos, and went to bed, again with the heater on. The next day we moved on. Our next campsite was Stanley. ———- Lisa’s part: 7th January 2025: Our next site was Gowrie Caravan Park in the Gowrie Park Wilderness Village. It’s only about 1 1/2 hours drive away into the mountains. We had enough time until checking in to the new place, so we took it easy. We stopped in Sheffield, a small town that had nothing in common with the industrial city in the UK of the same name. It is a sleepy town with great charm. Someone must have had a sense for history and community here, so I thought at first, as many of the walls were painted with historic cultural events, such as thanksgiving day for the community, or individual influential citizens, such as the blacksmith, or a policeman who directed a mountain rescue when 21 students were caught in a sudden and terrible blizzard up in the Cradle Mountains in 1971. Then I learnt that since the mid 1980s the town holds an annual mural painting competition that invites all artists to participate and to submit paintings for a given historical theme. From the submissions, nine artists are selected that will come to Sheffield in November for a week to transform their designs onto full-sized murals. Great idea. Wall Painting in Sheffield We strolled through the streets and admired the murals and the old fashioned wooden houses with their verandas and porches. The local shops didn’t stock anything of interest to us, so we drove onwards to the caravan park. Again, the campsite was not aware of our reservation, even so we had booked and fully paid via Camps Australia - and I had proof of it. But, again, it wasn’t a problem. The ever so friendly owner said she would take it up with the Camps Australia agency. They seemed to work on different systems, and communication between the campsites and agencies seemed not to work well. She said, she would discuss this with her fellow park site owners at their next meeting, as it was a problem for all of them. This was a lovely small campsite with a clean kitchen, bathroom and toilet and wifi facilities in the communal area. After we took over and marked our assigned site with our table and chairs, we drove out again to make the best of the afternoon as time was running. We went to the Trowunna Wildlife Park in Mole Creek, about 30 minutes drive away. This wildlife rescue and rehabilitation sanctuary takes on insured or orphaned wild animals and cares for them. We had just missed feeding time at 15:00, but that didn’t matter as usually many curious tourists want to see the animals. Now many of them had moved on and we had the place almost for ourselves. Guided by the friendly guy at reception we went straight to the area of the famous Tasmanian Devils. Some were hiding from the sun in their little huts or behind bushes, others came out playing or even splashing in a little water filled trough that served them for drinking and bathing. Tasmanian Devils look cute, they have little red ears (hence the name Devils). Some of them were fighting and screaming loudly at each other, which seems to be their form of communication and to make a stand. They were difficult to photograph as they didn’t want to pose and constantly moved about. Still, we were able to get a few decent shots. Little Tasmanian Devil We then moved on to the Kangaroos. They are dozy little fellows. They sit in a group and stare at you, with both hands in front of them and hardly move. When they moved, they hopped away with their short front feet and long back legs. Funny looking creatures. One of them had recently had a young one, that was still sitting in her pouch. Sometimes you could see the head hanging out, the next moment a foot or hand. No prams needed here. Hello my name is Dave, and what is yours? We also saw a little wombat; they look a bit like teddy bears. Once he saw us standing there together with a group of Argentinian tourists, he walked away into his little hut and we saw him putting a little blanket over his head. He obviously wanted to be left in peace and was in no mood to pose for tourists. Fair enough. Then, unfortunately, time was up. The sanctuary closed at 17:00. We contemplated coming back another day, but there was so much more to see and to do in this area and we only had 3 days. At the campsite we cooked chicken, added vegetables and some of the frozen corn on the cob and made some fajitas. We had found a fajitas kit in the supermarket. This is a quick way to make a very tasty meal: Fry chicken in a pan, add vegetables, and the spicy tomato sauce provided with the packet, warm up the provided tortillas and wrap the chicken in it. Ready and very yummy. 8th January 2025: The next morning was glorious sunshine and blue sky. We drove to the Cradle Mountains Visitor Centre, the entry to Tasmania’s iconic national park in the heart of the Tasmanian Wilderness World Heritage Area. The Cradle Mountain is Tasmania’s most visited natural attraction, located in the northern part of the Cradle Mountain-Lake St. Clair National Park. From the Visitor Centre, shuttle busses are running every 10 minutes to various parts of the Cradle Mountain area where one can take a range of walks from easy, moderate to difficult, 30 minutes to 6 hours; something for everyone’s abilities and liking. Also, the famous Overland Track starts here. We decided on a 6.5 km circular walk around the Dove Lake with an excellent view of the iconic Cradle Mountain in the background. We hoped Dave’s knee would sustains 3 hours of bush walking without too much of climbing. So far, his knee has held up very well, but we should not overdo it.  Dove Lake on Cradle Mountain The walk leads around a deep blue lake and runs partly on boardwalks, passes by little bays and beaches and lookout points. After about 45 minutes we left the crowds of people behind, who prefer to congregate near the beaches. The area was beautiful with the mountains in the background. We moved along well maintained boardwalks over marshy and boggy grounds. They are covered with chicken wire to prevent slipping in wintery wet and icy conditions. We were impressed and took lots of photos. The weather was perfect, sunshine, blue sky, but a cool wind kept the temperature cool at about 20 degrees. We took our time to enjoy our surroundings, then we headed back via shuttle bus to the visitor centre and then drove back to the campsite. Boardwalk across marshy ad boggy grounds Back at the campsite we tried, again, to upload text and photos onto the blog, but this was a difficult and lengthy process. Because of the bad wifi signal, uploading one photo took about 15 minutes and lots of patience. In between the website frequently froze and I needed to wait again… Once again I noticed how spoilt we have become. We have all the technology at home on our big computers and a fast internet connection. Everything works quickly and efficiently at home, alas, not here. We continued the next morning and managed to upload and finalise our latest blog entry. 9th January 2025: Then we went back to the Cradle Mountains, as our tickets were valid for 72 hours. Today Dave’s knee was playing up and we wanted to take it easy. We decided on an easy two hour walk from Dove Lake via Lake Lilla back to the Cradle Mountain Visitor Centre. We were delighted at the beautiful landscape we encountered on this path, with the added bonus of far less people walking here. Of course, it would have been great to ascend to the top of Cradle Mountain to enjoy the view from the top. Although we are quite fit, we decided this 6 hour steep walk was a little too difficult for us, considering our age, Dave’s knee and the fact that we had to come down again. We were better off taking more moderate walks, and indeed we greatly enjoyed them. Enjoying the beautiful scenery Whilst we were walking, I spotted a bus on the horizon, wondering what it was doing in the area, and promptly stumbled over a step on the boardwalk, which I had not seen as I was concentrating on the bus. I tried to hold my balance, but then felt that sinking feeling as I fell backwards into the ditch and landed between the soft bushes, still holding my camera high so that it did not get damaged - never mind my body, that can heal - until Dave came and rescued the camera. I scrambled out of the bushes back onto the boardwalk. I was lucky that I did not land in the wet and soggy part of the marshy ground, but Dave noticed that my backside was covered in Wombat poo. Oh dear. Dave tried to clean it off as best he could and told me to look where I was going. Yes, I did, but there was this bus… Never mind! The camera was okay, that was the main thing. We continued our walk. This time, I had my eyes focussing more on my feet and tried to train myself to stop walking when I saw something interesting in the distance. This is Wombat land, as we could see on the piles of poo on the boardwalk and, as I had so recently experienced, on the marshy ground. We tried to see any of the little wombats, either in the trees or on the ground, but without success. Only towards the end of our walk, we passed a group of people staring down the boardwalk trying to see a little wombat beneath and photograph it. The lovely creature looked like a teddy bear and was not disturbed at all by the people staring at him but stoically continued eating grass. It was most annoying, however, that the people nearest to the wombat, hogged their places and did not make space for others to have a good look as well. What inconsiderate people! Dave jumped down from the boardwalk, which nobody else dared, and got a good photograph of him this way. We moved on. Let me in peace, I am hungry I was still muttering about the selfishness of some people, when someone in front of me shouted that they was a wombat in the field. I looked up, walked towards her, but got my heel caught on the chicken wire, tried to balance but fell on my knees, still holding the camera up to keep it safe. Then I looked at the damage on my knee. The sharp chicken wire had gashed my right knee. There was blood running down my leg. What a fool I had been, once again. At least the camera was okay. The knee would heal. Dave washed the dirty wound and the blood off with water from my water bottle. Then I dried it with a tissue and held it tight to stop the blood and limped towards the nearby shuttle bus stop as I saw a bus coming, which took us back to the visitor centre. It looked worse than it was. Back in the van, we cleaned the wound with alcohol wipes and put the biggest plaster on it that we could find in our first aid kit. That’s it. Falling twice on one day. That’s a bit much and avoidable. I felt stupid and I really must be more careful next time. Back at the campsite, I cooked dinner. For some reason, the fridge must have stopped working and all the frozen vegetables which we had bought in Miena, had thawed. So I made a big stew, and although Dave likes eating vegetables, he always likes some kind of meat with it. Luckily, in the supermarket I had found Cabanos sausages and used this to spice up the stew. Very yummy and a very happy Dave. We ate outside, enjoying the evening sunshine and gazing up at the surrounding mountains. One thing with campsites is that you always meet people. We met quite a few, some are reserved and keep themselves to themselves; others are chatty, and quite a few overbearing. If you don’t want to socialise, then you better stay in your camper because people walk passed and start a conversation, sometimes its a short greeting, sometimes it can take hours. On this campsite, while we were breakfasting in the sunshine, a couple from Sydney came over with a box of goodies and asked whether we wanted some of them as they were flying back in the evening. We greatly accepted, as they contained exactly what we needed to stock up anyway, such as, olive oil spray, garlic paste, toilet rolls, bin liners, peanut butter spread, carrots, chocolate peanuts. All much appreciated. They were nice people, about 30 years old and both were teachers. Next to us was a couple from France. She, originally from Niger, now living in Strasbourg with her two grown-up children. He was working in New Caledonia, a small island in the South Pacific off the coast of Eastern Australia. He had a six year contract and was halfway through it. They try to meet twice a year, once in France and once they make holiday somewhere in the South Pacific. We got to know her quite well and chatted about life and politics and put the world to rights. A very nice lady, she invited us to visit her in Strasbourg. He was a nice chap too but rather shy and did not speak good English. On the other side of our camper was a German couple. They rented a campsite BBQ kit (20 AUD), which is a plastic container full of logs with a metal bucket to be used either as BBQ basket or sit around when it got cold. They used it to sit around the burning logs to keep warm and were looking at a screen, Life TV as they laughingly told us. He had a drone and was watching remotely a platypus in a nearby lake on the camera of their drone. Then a beep informed them that the battery was low and the drone automatically returned to the place where it started from. This couple, from Stuttgart, were travelling through Australia for 2 months with a big camper van. They were only in Tasmania for 2 weeks. They were going back to mainland Australia in two days time. The next day we moved on to the North of Tasmania to a small town called Stanley and the remote area of the Northwest. 3.1. On New Year’s Day,  we have arrived safely in Tasmania. We stayed at a travel lodge near the Airports, close by to Apollo where we picked up the Camper van the next morning. Here is an excerpt from Dave’s diary of the following days, Jan 2-5, followed by some impressions of mine. There might be some repetitions, but we don’t have the time to fully sync our writings. Dave: 02 January 2025 We breakfasted at 08:30 and left at 09:00 by hotel taxi to our campervan pick up location within the airport complex. We joined a queue of people waiting to pickup their campervans. When we reached the head of the queue our checkin guy told us they were so busy that there was no time to show us around our vehicle and to download their app as all the information was on the app. Our first camping site is Wayatinah Lakeside Caravan Park. I drive and our first stop is to a supermarket in New Norfolk. No need to refuel as we start off with a full tank. 30 minutes later we’re in parking spot number 17. Dave is happy driving our camper van We spend the rest of the afternoon sorting and placing our gear and shopping inside our campervan. We had thought about getting a bigger campervan, as we thought this one might be a bit too small, but we managed to fit everything inside. Even if we had wanted to upgrade we could only do so after mid January as they were all fully booked out until then. We put our corn-on-the-cob starter in the microwave, delicious and cooked our chicken drumsticks in the frying pan and they were equally delicious. We ate outside at our picnic table and chairs, but as soon as the sun dropped down behind the surrounding trees, it started to get chilly, so we went inside and finished our drinks in the comfort of or campervan. Our first meal cooked in the camper 03 January 2025 We woke at 08:00 and we were feeling cold. What must it be like for those on the site sleeping in tents? The temperature dropped to around 4C last night, thank goodness we asked for a second duvet. I worked out the controls of our air conditioning unit and changed the setting over to heating. We felt warm once again. After breakfasting on bread and beans, we went to explore our campsite to find the places, such as where to empty our toilet and waste water. We were admiring a very expensive looking camper that looks the business, which is owned by the people who own the site. He was standing nearby and told us that in the winter season last year they travelled up to Northern Australia and covered 12,000 kms and spent 4,000 AUD on fuel, about £2,000. No half measures for these Tasmanians! He also pointed out where we could empty our toilet cassette and to run our wastewater hose into the trees in front of our campervan. We needed more water and they don’t sell it on our campsite. When we drove from Hobart we passed signs pointing to a small farm down a dirt track that sold chicken and duck eggs, honey and veggies. We disconnected our power cable to our campervan and drove back there to see what they had on offer, maybe they sold water too. The place looked rather rundown and when we parked up we were  met by the owner, Paul, whose was originally from Dortmund. His wife was somewhere inside one of the many ramshackle buildings dotted around the place. We had a long conversation with him and he showed us his two Scottish cows, goats, four alpacas, plus a new born and his many geese, ducks and chickens. He worked part-time in a nearby animal rescue centre and was a conservationist. He’s well known and people bring him their unwanted, or sick animals as he’ll look after them until they die naturally. He told us he lives off the land, has no contact with the outside world, nor had a TV, computer or smartphone. One afternoon he took his wife for an ice-cream treat. When they entered the shop a boy of about 12 years old was robbing the shop and threatening the owner with a knife. He walked up to the boy, thumped him in the face and took the knife of him. He lifted him off the ground by his throat and told him if he ever caught him doing that again he’d kill him. No messing about with this guy! However, he didn’t have water, but we did buy 12 eggs off of him before we drove back. Lisa made an omelette, and out of the 12 eggs and 6 were bad. I told Lisa to drive back and complain! For dinner we cooked our Fajita’s with the the two remaining chicken drumsticks that we cooked last night and they were delicious. The weather was perfect and we sat outside eating our Fajitas and drinking our tins of Tasmanian beer until the sun dropped behind the trees and when it did we washed up and retired inside our campervan to drink our bottle of wine and catchup on the news. I checked the weather forecast to see the nighttime temperature in Belsize Park. It would be -3C, so I remotely switched on our central heating system for a few hours. Life is good, 04 January 2025 Another 5C overnight temperature last night and this time, instead of sleeping across the width of our campervan, we slept lengthways and that seemed to work better, although the fridge was rather noisy during the night, until I turned the thermostat up a little inside the fridge. Yummy breakfast in the van while outside it is still cold. After breakfast we went for a short walk through the trees beside the lake and got bitten by mosquitoes. We still needed water, so we disconnected the power cable, switched off the gas bottle and drove back to Ouse, the small town where we stopped to buy water on the way here. We took the opportunity to input the addresses of the next few campsites we’d be staying at into our TomTom on the way back and as we drove back clouds appeared. The campers in the pitch next to us said that it would rain tomorrow, as that’s what usually happens after a few warm days. Tomorrow we’re driving off to Quamby Corner in the central highlands, which is a two hour drive away. The campers next to us are 6 families. They know each other for years and meet at this site every year. They’re seated on chairs in a big circle, drinking beer and wine in the grassy area In front of their tents. All their kids are their too and they’re having a karaoke session between cycling around the ground. They invite us over and we sit with them for a while drinking our wine and chewing over the fat and it was surprising to see how many of the men were from England and had married Tasmanian women. Too personal to ask under what circumstances. 05 January 2025 We left our Wayatinah campsite, but before I needed to empty our toilet cassette in their dump station and to drain our dirty water tank. I emptied our waste water tank and then drained the toilet cassette, but had difficulty afterwards sliding it back in. I finally managed it but Lisa complained of the smell and of the millions of flies now in our campervan and toilet/shower unit. When I looked inside the toilet, the slider that closes the toilet after ‘an event’ hadn’t close and that was the problem. All I could do was to take the cassette out, to wash the outside of it and once dry put it inside our toilet/shower unit because we needed to get to our next campsite, Quamby Corner Caravan Park, situated in Quamby Brook in the Golden Valley. We tapped in the address into our TomTom and set off northwards along the A10 and then branch off right onto the B11. For some reason our TomTom told us to turn around when possible. We checked our map and could see there was a road, so we followed our map. We reach the B11 and continue along the A10, as we want to see the famous Derwent Bridge. However, there’s nothing much to see, so we continue to Lake St Clair. There’s a famous Overland Trekking route that starts at Cradle Mountain and takes 5 days and 6 nights to trek down to the end of the trail in Cynthia Bay in Lake St Claire. This is were we make a toilet stop at the visitors/information centre at end of this trail, where I try once again to fix the faulty cassette without success. We continue back the way we’d just driven and turn left onto the B11. After 3 km, the sealed road turns into a gravel road. Ahead I could see a sealed road, so I continued and after a further 3km it was back to the gravel road. When we picked up the campervan we had strict instructions that the campervan must not drive on unsealed roads. However, we could drive for short distances, up to 12 km, on unsealed road in order to  reach a campsite. If we did drive on unsealed roads we’d be uninsured and besides all their campers had a trackers, so they could easily track our journey. We have no alternative but to turn around and drive back. The only other road available to us meant driving south, passing our Wayatinah campsite and continuing all the way down to Hamilton. From there turned left onto the B110 to Bothwell, then left onto the A5 to our Quamby Corner Caravan Park in Quamby Brook, via Miena and the Great Lake. This was a 250 km detour and took almost 3 hours. This was Sunday and there was a store in Miena, where we wanted to buy food and drink for tonight. As we were approaching Miena, the clouds were getting darker. Instead of a  biggish town there were only a few houses dotted on both sides of the road before we turned left and followed the signs to the main store and gas station. We parked up and went into the store expecting a good selection of fresh fruit and veg and we were disappointed, they had none of it, nor did they have a loaf of break or a bottle of water. We come away with a bag of frozen sweetcorn, peas and a two packets of frozen lasagne. They have a selection of tins and a small tin of tuna cost. 4 AUD, about £2 - seems they can charge what they want as there appears to be no competition. What they do have are chips and sausages to take away, which they cooked in the back room and there was a queue waiting to buy them. Nearby was a hotel and bar, so we went to see if they sell alcohol. We entered and here were a couple of people in the bar sitting with their pints watching television. We asked the barman if he sells alcohol to take away. Yes, he’d be happy to sell us a bottle of red wine. What would be the price? Between 65-80 AUD (£32 to £40). No thanks, we’d rather drink our beer. We needed to refuel and as I was refuelling it started to rain, thankfully the gas station was covered. We drove off and shortly after it stoped raining and the clouds gave way to a blue sky. We arrived at Quamby Corner caravan park at 17:30 anxious that we might be too late. The lady, who greeted us in the farm house, couldn’t find our booking, even though we had paid the 50% deposit. No worries there were places and after we paid the final 50% we’re given our plot number. We parked and placed our table and chairs on the grass beside in the warm wonderful sunshine. There’s a big Woolworths supermarket in Deloraine that’s open until 21:00, so we immediately drove there to restock our supplies. It was a 20-minute drive away and when we get there its a very nice a largish tourists town. It has a car park big enough for our van. We bought our supplies, they even had sweetcorn husks too. After that we drove across town to a bottle store and what a great selection they had too and it’s run by a great guy from Bali. We drove back and we prepared dinner, a starter of fresh sweetcorn husks in the microwave followed by and ten tiger prawns with sourdough bread. Lisa’s still feeling shitty and suffering from a heavy cold. I was tired too as I’ve been driving for 7.5 hrs and by 22:00 we’re both fast asleep. A well deserved rest after 3.5 hours of driving Lisa: In order to get used to our Camper van in a relaxed manner, we booked ourselves into a quiet campsite, Wayatinah Caravan Park, on a lovely lake, the Wayatinah Lagoon. I had insisted that we should rent the smallest Camper (5.50m long and 2m wide) as I also wanted to drive it on the narrow and curvy roads of Tasmania. When we saw it at pick up, we got worried, not only if we were able to fit everything in, but also if we were able to get along in such a confined space of 6 square meters of living space inclusive kitchen and toilet, table and seats converted into a bed at night, during the next month without getting on each others throat. Amazing how much space there is in this tiny camper There is room in the smallest hut. It took careful planning to fit everything into the over head luggage and under seat compartments and we were surprised how much space there actually was. One has to be very tidy and immediately put away things and remember where you put it. We also had to learn how to switch on electricity, lock onto water supply, how to pack things and lock all compartments so that not everything would bounced about when driving, how to disconnect everything before driving off etc. It definitely was a steep learning curve. As Dave mentioned, at pickup there was no time for introduction, and we were given an app to download. However, with a very infrequent internet connection in the mountains and none in the remote areas, such an app is more or less useless. Experience is what is asked for. Experienced campers amongst our readers will only laugh at the challenges we are facing. But we are learning fast. Everything is packed away and works. Now its time to relax. Dave writing up his diary. On our last evening in Wayatinah, we were invited to sit with our neighbours around a log fire. They were a group of over 20 people, including lots of children. They were Tasmanians, long-time friends, who for the last 10 years, spent four days over the first weekend in the New Year together camping in Wayatinah. The had great fun together, grilling Marshmallows on the campfire  after dinner and the evening finished with a kind of Karoke for the kids. The next morning they would pack up their tents and go home, as on Monday they had to go back to work. This reminded me of our Regensburger friends, who every year spend a long weekend together in a hut in the Bavarian Mountains having a great time. A few times we were able to join them and had great fun. After three nights, on Sunday, the 5th January, once we had stocked up and learnt the basics, we were ready to go and made our way to the next campsite, the Quamby Corner Caravan Park. This is only a short drive away, 1hour 45 minutes. We had an easy day ahead of us. - So we thought. Before leaving the campsite we thought we better empty the toilet canister, for the first time. We still have to learn how to do that without splattering the stinking brew on to our shoes and socks. We were relieved when the toilet canister slotted in again. Well done, so we thought. Only later, we were wondering about the awful smell in our camper. We investigated and realised that although the compartment was slotted in correctly, the leaver that closed the toilet when slotted in to prevent the smell getting into the van was broken. Dave tried and tried to see whether he could repair it, without success. In the meantime we had a swarm of flies flying around us and inside the van. We had no other option than to take the whole unit out, close it, to prevent the smell getting out, and put it inside the shower unit, out of our way. The emergency phone number of our rental company did not respond, either because it was a Sunday, or as we later found out because with our UK phones we needed to dial the AUS phone code. Anyway, the smell was in check, on the next campsite we had hot showers and toilets available. We were not in a situation of crisis. We continued our drive and wondered why our TomTom navigator constantly wanted to send us back on a different road that would be a much longer way. However, the google map on my smartphone had sent us the shortest way. We decided to believe Google map and continued. We went for a little detour over the Derwent bridge to visit the lovely Lake St. Clair. It is here where the famous Overland Track, a 65 km hike, six nights, five days through beautiful mountain landscape, rainforests and alpine moors, from near the Cradle Mountain ends. We saw quite a few people with big rucksacks who looked pretty exhausted. No one smiled. I wonder why. We had decided to give this walk a miss as we had our camper van. A short rest at the beautiful Lake St. Clair. We then continued our journey. However, after about 10 minutes, our trip went off the good A10 road and we entered B11, which was an unpaved dirt road. We remembered that one of the rules and regulations that we were told at pick up, was, never drive the vehicle on unpaved, unsealed roads, although a maximum of 12 km were allowed to get to a remote campsite. The reason given as, that the weather in Tasmania was so unpredictable that strong rain or snow would make unpaved roads dangerous and unsafe to pass. If we did that, our insurance would be invalid. We were also informed that the van had a tracker. Now we understood what our TomTom had wanted to warn us about. What should be done? I suggested that perhaps it was  only for a few miles and then we would get onto a paved road again. We tried but after 10 minutes of rough road we turned the van around. That was crazy. Why were we not told which roads were unpaved roads? None of the maps distinguished between paved and unpaved roads. Now the only alternative we had, was going back and try the other road A 10, passing our last nights campsite and almost back to where we had picked up our camper van in Hobart and then take the A 5 towards North. This was a detour of more than 3 hours. We were furious. What a waste of our time. But it was our own fault, we should have trusted our TomTom. So we went all the way back and then up joining the A5. Now we got worried whether we soon would run out of diesel as there are very few petrol stations in Tasmania. We found one and stopped for refuelling. There was only a machine and it asked me how many litres of diesel I wanted to purchase. How should I know? We just wanted to fill up. I had no idea how many litres we needed to fill up. If I purchased too few I had to purchase again and again; if I purchased too many we overpaid. We decided we better buy our Diesel at a manned petrol station so that we would be able to get help if needed. We continued and whilst Dave drove I studied our van handbook and found out it had a fuel capacity of 80 litres. That was not bad, that would allow us many more km until we ran out of fuel. We also found out from our clever van, that so far we had driven 360 km and had still diesel for another 440 km in the tank. Okay, no panic. On our way we drove through highland landscape and passed yellow gorse growing along the road, herds of sheep and cows. Dave is reminded of driving in Cornwall in the 70s. We arrived in Miena, which is a small hamlet right in the middle of the Central Plateau. It is here were the guidebooks recommend to get basic supplies as there are not many shops in the area. The place was empty, a few shacks, a hotel and a bar. The general store did not have much of supplies. No bread, no vegetable, no meat or chicken, only frozen goods and a few tins. Dave asked whether they had some fish, as there are many lakes in the area. The woman said, yes, many, but you have to go to the lake and catch them yourself. The shop owners were not allowed to sell fish as all fish in the country belong to the King. At least we were able to fill up with diesel. While I waited for Dave to fill up the car, I had a chat with an elderly lady from Queensland waiting for her french fries. She told me, she (79) was on holiday with her 86 year old sister driving around the Midlands of Tasmania in a rented car and staying in Hotels. They enjoyed the journey very much but travelling was no longer easy as there was so much to learn how to get about, such as using your smart phone for everything. In the meantime, the clouds have turned black, and it had started to rain. The atmosphere was moody. We continued our journey and drove long distances without seeing another car or a house or a village. We passed through dense forest with lots of white dead trees and logs. It looked spooky. Perhaps a fire had destroyed them? The rain stopped and we finally arrived at our destination, the Quamby Corner Caravan Park situated in Quamby Brook in the Golden Valley. After check-in, we hurried off again to get some supplies from Woolworths in Delorraine, a nice little town about 20 minutes drive away. We were relieved to be out of the remote area, amongst friendly people and able to stock up with supplies. Finally, we arrived at the Quamby Corner Caravan Park The next morning, after we enjoyed the hot showers at the campsite and had a lovely breakfast in the sunshine, we called the road assistance team and explained our problem. They sent us to a repair shop in Deloraine to get the toilet problem fixed. We happily drove there, only to find out that the shop was still closed until 13th January because the owner is on holiday. Good for him, bad for us. We phoned again Road Assistance. This time they suggested another repair shop in Devonport, 70 km away, on the coast, but phoned them for us to make sure the shop is open. It was and they expected us. We drove the 70 km, hoping that the journey would all be on paved roads. The mechanic, Jamie. quickly diagnosed the toilet cassette to be broken and sold us a new one for 350 AUD, that is £170. While Dave inserted the cassette, the Jamie brought me the old one to take with me. In panic I looked at him and have nightmares that we have to have this stinky beast in the living room of our camper van for the rest of our Tasmanian journey. I asked the mechanic what I should do with the old cassette, he said nothing but brought a carton, put the cassette into it, and through it in his bin. Problem solved. I was much relieved. The new toilet cassette slotted in but the internal slot which is connected to the leaver on the toilet did not fit. Dave asked Jamie the mechanic to have a look. He only shrugged his shoulders and said there is nothing he could do. For major repairs like that, we needed to bring the van back to Hobart where we had picked it up. Nice. Very helpful. Dave, however, did not give up and inspected closer and found out the leaver needed to be turned around 180 degrees. He did it and it worked. Well done, Dave! We had a fully functioning toilet again. The holiday was saved. At least for now. Who knows what else would come along our way. We took the opportunity that we were on the coast and bought some fresh Tasmanian Gummy fish (a type of shark) and tiger prawns for our dinner tonight and headed back to our campsite for a well deserved cup of tea and rest. We had spent a full day solving our toilet problem. Problem solved. Holiday saved. At present, we don’t have any internet, or only intermittent, and this situation will not improve in the next few weeks. Also, we have not seen any wildlife, apart from lots of roadkill, flies, mosquitos, cows, sheep and a few birds, one of them with blue heads, but they were too quick for us to have a closer look. The Quamby campsite, so we are told by our neighbours, is full of migrant workers. That explains the busy morning activities in the shower room and kitchen. Many, mostly single men, are sleeping in a tent, which is a cheap accommodation, and travel to work where there is need for workforce, mostly seasonal work. That explains the signs we saw when travelling along the road that said: workers wanted. Our neighbours are two friends, Maureen and Jim, who have been on the road for many years. Maureen told me, when she retired at 64, she realised that on her meagre pension as a single woman she would not be able to live and afford the rent. So she bought herself a camper van and started travelling Australia. That was 20 years ago. Now she is 84. She met Jim, along the way. He also has a camper van and from time to time they travel together. Mostly that means, they stay in a campsite for months, sitting all day in front of their vans, relaxing. Jim looks bored and approaches everyone coming new into the camp, like we. They said they are happy here as this area is so beautiful. But when we asked them what they can recommend what we can do and explore in the area, they said they don’t know as they are always in the campsite. I can imagine that must get boring with time. But everyone to themselves. Some long-term campers on the site made their caravans home from home. Quambie Corner to Gowrie Park 7.-9.January 2025 Last night the temperature was down to 7 degrees. It was freezing cold in the van. In the morning we switched the heating on and slowly thawed up. Today we are driving off to Gowrie Park, which is close to the famous and beautiful Cradle Mountain. Gowrie Park is high up in the mountain, I guess it will get even colder at nights. Perhaps it is a good idea to have the heating on during the night? Melbourne 29.12.2024 The flying time to Melbourne is about 9 hours, and Australia is 3 hours in front of Hong Kong. That means we are now 11 hours in front of London, 10 of Munich or Berlin. Unfortunately, the inflight meals left a lot to be desired, the vegetarian version was even worse, so on the return flight I will go back to the standard food, at least that will taste of something other than plastic. Having said that, Dave complained about his rubbery sausage and bacon breakfast. We managed a little sleep despite the surrounding crying babies. We landed at 07:10 and took it easy as we had lots of time to kill until we would check into our hotel. We had applied for e-visas so our passage through passport control was easy. We went to the Skybus desk and booked return tickets into the Southern Cross Skybus terminal. The journey on a double-decker bus was fast and took less than 30 minutes. The check-in time for our hotel was not until 14:00, so at 09:00 we were killing time by sitting in a Movenpick cafe, near the Southern Cross terminal, drinking coffee and tea. I was glad we were inside because even though the sun was shining out of a clear-blue sky, it was chilly in the shade and a cold wind was blowing, so I quickly had to put on my fleece. We thought Australia would be hot in the height of summer. However, even out of the shade we could feel the power of the sun, so the suncream is a must and so is Dave’s hat. We put the time to good use and wrote up our travel blog. Three hours and several cups of tea and coffee later we left and took two trams within the City free Tram zone, to the Ibis Hotel on Thierry Street. Melbourne has an extensive and efficient tram system which in the inner city is free of charge. During the next few days we would often sit in the tram for a free ride around Melbourne to get an overview of the city. It must have been our lucky day as we were allowed to check into our hotel an hour before earlier, and after a bit of chit chat with the receptionist we got an upgrade from a room on the 3rd to one on the 9th floor. The room was pleasant and suited us well as our home for the next three nights. After a short rest we left to explore the nearby famous Queen Victoria Market. Unfortunately, the market was about to close, so we just strode though quickly to get an overview and an impression and promised ourselves to return another day. We hopped on the free city circular tram to explore the city. The tram was full but we did manage to get a seat, although we couldn’t see much. After 15 minutes, however, the tram driver told us that, as it’s Sunday, this tram will terminate at 17:00, in 5 minutes time. We ended up at the Waterfront City Docklands shopping mall, where we went for a mooch about. Most of the shops were full of kiddies toys and catered only for children, which was self evident by the amount of families walking around. We then found an interesting shop with a photo exhibition but the guy was just locking up his photo shop. We had a natter to him about photos and world affairs. He was an interesting guy. He had been working for years in London and when he returned to Australia, he and his partner hosted the famous world press photography exhibition in Melbourne. We then headed back to the city by another tram. We got off at Flinders Street Station and went walkabout into Chinatown to find a restaurant. We found a branch of Tim Ho Wan, the restaurant that was so highly recommended in Hong Kong by the newly wed couple, and went there to eat. It was almost as good but this time we didn’t have one of their expensive bottles of beer. They have a strange custom here. There’s a 10% service charge added to your bill at weekends and an extra 15% added for public holidays. This can get costly. Afterward we headed off back to our hotel and on the way looked out for a supermarket so we could by snacks, beer and wine - and sun creme. We found one but discovered they didn’t sell alcohol. If you want to buy alcohol, you had to go to a bottle shop, which only sells alcohol. This system was explained to us by a very friendly guy who assured us there were plenty of alcohol shops everywhere and they were open all hours. The Australians are very friendly, easy to chat to and we enjoyed their relaxed manner. Nothing seems to be a problem that cannot be solved. We also enjoyed the cosmopolitan culture of Melbourne. We are surprised that so many people from different countries and cultures live here. But of course, Asia is just around the corner. Presumably, many came for work or study and brought their families or are here as tourists. The many Asian restaurants are very popular, and we almost feel transported back to Hong Kong. Back home at the hotel, we finally were so tired that we, despite our jet lag, which had caused us a few sleepless nights so far, had a good night sleep. 30 December 2024 The next morning we had a lazy start to the day and went for brunch in a nearby cafe, which was Japanese as we soon found out. The food was very tasty. Dave had a bowl full of smoked Kaiser meet (smoked pork ribs) with various vegetables in noodle soup, I had vegetable tempura (vegetables in batter, fried) with Avocado creme and salad. The portions were huge, and we both would have been happy with only half of it. We paid a reasonable price of 57 AUD, that is £ 28.50 for the two of us, including tea and coffee. Afterward we walked down Elizabeth Street to digest our food, and to Dave’s delight we found a computer shop and a camera shop next door. We made our way to Bourke Street Mall to Meyr’s department store, where we, together with loads of others, mostly children, pressed our noses against the department store window at displays of animated animals in the jungle. Kaiser Meat with vegetable in noodle soup From there we made our way to AC/DC Lane, which is dedicated to the band, as that’s where they have started out. There was even a concrete figure of Bon Scott, AC/DC’s original singer, bursting through the brickwork. He died from the effects of alcohol poisoning in Camden in 1980, just down the road from where we live. Dave soaks up the atmosphere and pays hommage to AC/DC We were sitting on a bench in AC/DC Lane soaking up the atmosphere and to give our feet a welcome rest, when we were approached by an 80 year old Canadian guy. We had a natter and he told us he had come on a cruise ship from Canada and was visiting his son who lived in Melbourne. He also said that the importance of travelling is not only about seeing the places listed in the guide book but about meeting like-minded people. Now he too was here to see where AC/DC had started out and he pointed out that our generation had it all, the best music, the best of time. We couldn’t agree more and wished him well as he hurried away to catch up with his family who had already moved on. We continued on our walk and paid homage to the classic rock pub called the Cherry bar, which was originally located in AC/DC Lane. However, it was moved to a new site in 2020, a few blocks away from AC/DC Lane. This area around AC/DC Lane, Hosier Lane and Duckboard Street is also well known for having the City’s most eye-popping street art. This may have been so some time ago, but now most of the pictures have faded, the paint peeling off and many of the paintings have been smeared with spray paint and tip pen. Is this a local Banksy on the wall? Around the corner of AC/DC Lane was a painting of Malcolm Young, the recently deceased founding member and lead guitarist of the band. It says, “C’mon Saint Peter, how many bloody more times you gonna make me play Hell’s Bells before you let me through the gates, mate?”. Next we walked to Federation Square, which is the cultural heart of the City to visit the aborigine museum called Koorie Heritage Trust. Unfortunately, we got there at 5pm, just as it was closing. Okay, we’ll return tomorrow. On the bridge leading over the Yarra river we admired the Skyline of Melbourne’s Business District. From here, boats offer river cruises, but we decided to cross the Yarra river and have a stroll on the Southbank Promenade, the waterfront, passing by the many art galleries, bars and restaurants where people sat outside taking in the city skyline. View of Melbourne’s Riverside and Business District We made our way to Melbourne’s famous Skydeck, a viewing platform on the 88th floor. The lift takes 38 seconds to reach the top, travelling at 9 metres a second. It cost 64.73 AUD, around £32, for us both, even with our elders discount. Expensive, yes, but well worth the money. The 360 degree views of the city skyline, the world famous cricket stadium, the docks and the distant hills on the horizon are stupendous. We spent almost two hours on the platform before returning to earth. View of Melbourne’s Skyline from the Skydeck We were told that the next day, New Year’s Eve, the platform was closed because there was a private party. Can you imagine, the view of all the fire works  around Melbourne? We shutter to think how much the entry tickets were for this special VIP New Year’s Eve event. On the way home, we had dinner at a Malaysian restaurant, called Sarawak Kitchen, which was just around the corner of our hotel. Dave had a bowl of roasted pork Sarawak (noodle soup) and I had one with vegetables and soya meat. Both were delicious, but far too much food, we could not finish it. Again we walked home feeling bloated. 31.12.2024 The next morning we were up earlier and went to the ancient Queen Victoria Market for breakfast. The Vic Market with its more than 600 stalls is known as the largest out-door market in the southern hemisphere. The market was busy, full with people doing their shopping or like us just looking. I bought a cheese and ham panini at one of the many stalls, which was big enough for us to share, and we enjoyed it sitting outside in the sunshine. We sat and watched the world go by. We were surprised that Melbourne appeared to be populated by many overweight, obese people, men, women and children. But on the other hand, it was understandable considering the huge portions of food served in restaurants and the amount of places offering delicious calorific food, cakes and sugary drinks. Then we mingled with hundreds of customers and onlookers to explore the market. In the deli hall, the stalls have plenty of gourmet food on display, such as olives, cheeses, dips, sausages ham, wine, truffles oil and kangaroo biltong. I was fascinated by a stall that offers spices and tea from all over the world. I was just about to buy a German herbal tea, when I saw the prices, 6.5 AUD for 10 grams of tea. They also had apple cake spices and mulled wine spices even gingerbread spices (Lebkuchengewuerz) that cost 2.40 AUD for 10 grams. (This was approximate £1.20 or 1.45 Euros). I thought, I better wait until the next time I am in Germany. A Deli Stall inside Queen Victoria Market The vendors are very relaxed and don’t mind us taking pictures and are happy to chat. I spoke to Don, an Italian guy, who came with his brother 15 years ago to Melbourne and owns a stall offering Italian delicatessen. We took some photos of him and his brother and I promised to email them to him, which I did. Next door was a Polish stall, followed by Greek and Turkish food stalls. After that we entered the area of fishmongers and were surprised by the amount and size of the lobsters and oysters on display, beside octopus, squid, salmon and the most amazing exotic fish we had ever seen. Wide eyed we walked also through the meet market which had the biggest steaks we have ever seen. No wonder, people are so well nourished. Every kind of fresh meat, such as beef, pork, lamb, quicken, goose, quail were on display. Mouthwatering Seafood on Display We were sorry to miss the famous Night-market here at Queen Victoria Market with its vibrant atmosphere and a rotating weekly line-up of live music and entertainment. Unfortunately, that’s on Wednesday’s only but we are leaving on Tuesday. After a while, we had enough of food and taking pictures of it and made our way by tram to Flinders Station. This station was built in 1854, and it is Australia’s first train station that ran the distance of 2.5 miles from Flinders Street to Sandridge, which is now known as Port Melbourne. We were surprised to see so many well known names of English cities on the platform departure board. But why not, as so many people originated from England and presumably wanted their home towns to be remembered. Finally we moved over to the culture centre on Federation Square, just across Flinders Street Station and headed to the Koorie Heritage Trust. This time they were open, but sadly did not offer their famous tours over the holiday period. Instead, we visited their very interesting exhibition of Aboriginal art installations and watched some videos of artists explaining the history of their art. Aboriginal Paintings The area around Federation Square was partly cordoned off because of the New Years Eve’s celebrations later with lots of music and fireworks. We heard, this was the place to be to celebrate the incoming New Year. There are many celebrations going on around Melbourne but many of them were already fully booked. Also, the public traffic, like trams and buses, in much of the city centre was to be greatly reduced due to the celebrations. So we decided to spend our New Year’s Eve in Federation Square, at least it was not too far to walk home afterwards in case there we could not get a tram. We wanted to have a drink at the Imperial, the oldest pub in Melbourne, (at Imperial Hotel, 2-8 Bourke St). They offered a New Year’s Eve Rooftop Party, in two sittings, from 19:00 until 01:00, entry fees for sitting one and two, from 150 AUD + booking fee. They had a few tickets left for 198.90 AUD, which also included canapés and drinks, such as beer and wine, life music until 22:00 and then a DJ until 01:00. Sorry mate, we have other plans. There is so much more to see. That means, we have to go there the next day for coffee, our last chance to admire the views from their roof top. So we made our way towards Federation Square, equipped with a nice bottle of wine, as we had no means to keep sparkling wine cold until midnight. The streets and pavements in the centre were full with masses of people having a good time and many of them moving towards Fed Square. The inner centre was cordoned off with lots of security staff around. A loudspeaker frequently informed us that Melbourne Centre is an alcohol free zone. To keep everyone safe, no drinking was allowed in public, only in bars, restaurants or at home. When detected, alcohol would be confiscated and the perpetrators fined heavily. What? Strange customs. We could not believe that. We just wanted to see the fireworks and listen to the music and sipping from our bottle of wine. What should we do now? All the bars would be full and going home only to drink our wine was no option. We wondered off to little side streets. Everywhere we encountered lots of people and lots of security. We came across some light shows and music on other squares and watched them for a while and moved on. Light shows and music to celebrate New Years Eve in Melbourne Inner City In a small side streets we saw one couple leaving a bar and quickly went in. And really they had space for us. There we sat, sipped our  20 AUD glasses of wine and made them last for two hours, whilst our own bottle was resting in the rucksack. We had to drink it afterwards in our hotel room as the following day we were flying out to Tasmania. We were disappointed not to be able to see the firework by the river but we managed to see the funny side of the situation we found ourselves in on another strange New Year’s Eve. Self-explanatory Finally, 1/2 hour before midnight we decided to leave the bar and to walk towards home. There was no way to see any fireworks in the city centre as the high rise buildings were blocking any views. We needed to head towards some open area. We remembered that the neighbours in our hotel, a couple from Indonesia, had told us they would go to Flagstaff Gardens, an area near our hotel on the other side of the Queen Victoria Market. Perhaps we could see some fireworks there? We headed towards the gardens. Masses of people passed us on their way to the Fed Square, all happy and many of them were tipsy. They must have been drinking at home before they came out. Good idea, as alcohol in the tummy could not be confiscated. We also noticed a few heavily drank people staggering around or lying on the streets. A tram passed by full of people, some looked very drunk. Was the alcohol ban because of heavy drinking behaviour of the population, or was the heavy drinking behaviour because of the alcohol ban? Who knows. Time was running and we just managed to get to the Queen Victoria Market car park, not far from Flagstaff Gardens, when people started to count down the seconds to midnight and then the fireworks began. We turned around and from the rooftops of the sky scrapers we could see a wonderful display of fireworks. We found ourselves amongst lots of happy people celebrating and welcoming in the New Year. Another good thing was, we didn’t have far to walk home. Fire works over Flagstaff Gardens, Melbourne Hong Kong Our flight was uneventful apart from a group of Australians who celebrated loudly all night; nobody could sleep but nobody complained. At least we got our revenge when they woke up the next morning with a hangover, looking rather pale. Serves them right. Anyway we arrived quickly and safely at our hotel, the Harbour Grand Kowloon, Hong Kong. Before we left the UK, we did some research to find the cheapest way to get around the transport system of Hong Kong. We bought ourselves Octopus cards from the mass transport system desk in Hong Kong airport. The added bonus was that senior citizens, 65+, travel at half price. What a bargain.    The travel book says that Hong Kong weather can be unpredictable. And they were right. Even though it’s the dry season, the weather was hazy and overcast. Such a pity as our room had a fantastic panoramic view over the bay. At least it was not raining, For our last day, the sun came out just after sunrise and we had blue skies until the sun went down. As our flight was at 19.05, we had a full day to explore of Hong Kong. It felt cold. That means there was no need to unpack my smart summer dresses. They remained in my suitcase for our three days in Melbourne. In the meantime, rather than striding elegantly through Hong Kong in my frocks, I wore my usual multilayered warm, travel clothes. Who cares? As long as they were warm and comfortable. We have always travelled light. Dave’s trolley weighed 14 kilos (mostly cables and chargers), mine was 15 kilos. I had to repack a few times to fit it all in. That means we simply have to regularly wash and wear our clothes. My rucksack weighed 8 kilos, Dave’s 13 kg, The reason that they were so heavy was, that our expensive camera gear, smart phones, iPads, battery packs, headphones etc, needed to be hand luggage. Hong Kong is a vast place. Thanks to our Octopus travel card we explored the area extensively. Our hotel was in Kowloon, opposite Hong Kong island. We took the Hung Hom Ferry from the pier beside our hotel and crossed Victoria Harbour to North Point Ferry Pier. From there we boarded one of the ancient double-decker trams that rattle along the north shore of Hong Kong Island between Kennedy town and Causeway Bay. We passed between the majestic downtown skyscrapers that make the skyscrapers of the City of London look like toy-town. We liked the mix of the old and new and especially the hightech super-modern architecture. We couldn’t stop taking photographs. As some are so tall you need a super-wide lens to do them justice. The mighty Skycrapers of Hong Kong Tired but happy touring by Trancar through Hong Kong The Tramcar System in Hong Kong was established in 1904 Afterwards we explored Hong Kong Island on foot, which is like a rabbit warren of alleyways and side streets. Sometimes it’s impossible to cross some busy roads so they have a system of overhead and underground walkways. Some of the overhead walkways are covered, no doubt due to the heavy monsoon rains. Some of these overground and underground walkways are interconnected with huge shopping malls, often incorporating tube stations. We returned to the mainland, across Victoria Harbour, by the famous ancient Star Ferry and what an impressive view we had of the skyscrapers of the mainland and Hong Kong Island. Once we were back in Kowloon, we took the tube up to Prince Edward Station and walked back down along the busy Nathan Road with its many colourful shops. On the way we explored various markets: The Goldfish Market (where some shops sell little water filled plastic bags of various species of fish), the perfumed Flower Market, the Lady’s Market (where I bought a day rucksack and a little bag for my smartphone) and the Yuen Po Bird Market. Unfortunately for Dave, we couldn’t find any computer or camera markets and shops, unlike, the last time he was here in 1991. Thanks to the internet and online trading this market does no longer exist. We were also told, that many businesses had relocated from Hong Kong to Mainland China. Later on we pottered through the famous Temple Street Night Market with colourful lanterns strung across the market. We were particularly fascinated by the range of street food stalls offering everything from sweet or savoury snacks and local specialities, to various exotic seafood dishes. It all looked delicious but as we have just started our travels and are not yet accustomed to the local food we are still very careful of what and where we eat, especially as we still have more long flights ahead of us. Enjoying the excellent food in Hong Kong We quickly got to know the tube system and were impressed by its efficiency and cleanliness. When entering the tube carriage white and green arrows indicate where people should enter or leave the carriage. The tube map in the carriage lights up the individual stations, indicating in red the next stops, and in orange, where the interchanges are. It is pretty busy, and like the rest of the world, people are fixated by their smartphone screens. Unlike in Bogota or Medellin, Colombia, where young people immediately jumped up to offer oldsters a seat, here nobody gives a damn. We guess they are all so tired from working and besides, we don’t look particularly. Having been used to the streets of London, it made a pleasant surprise to see how clean the streets and pavements were. One day we saw a team of street cleaners hosing down the pavement, with one of them holding a large board to protect the shop windows and the pedestrians from getting drenched. If one wanted to escape the Christmas razzmatazz, like we do, then Hong Kong definitely is the wrong place to be. Christmas decorations and lights of the finest and most kitschy type are displayed everywhere and the tunes of We wish you a merry Christmas and George Michael’s Last Christmas, songs that we just recently sang soulfully with our choir at the Actors Church in Covent Garden, irritate the ears. Masses of people, mostly families with children, are out on the streets, celebrating and admiring the decorations and lights, especially along the harbour frontage. We wanted to see the statue of the famous Bruce Lee which according to our map was somewhere along the Avenue of Stars beside the harbour. It was almost impossible to make our way through a never ending crowd of slow-moving people. Now we know what it is like to be sardines in a tin. However, we discovered the crowds had gathered to watch the daily evening musical laser light show from the top of the skyscrapers on the other side of Victoria harbour. The Lightshow on the Harbour Visiting Bruce Lee We met some very friendly people in Hong Kong. For example, we had coffee in a little restaurant and a young couple approached us. They had only been married for a month and saw us taking photos of each other and they wondered, would they do the same when they were older. We got on really well. They recommended a nice restaurant, which we tried out the next day and the food was excellent. She was a nurse and offered to help us if we had any health problems on our travels in Hong Kong. Nice people and a nice offer, but we wondered, do we really look that old? I hope not. Later, another guy approached us as we were looking on our maps for somewhere for dinner. He led us to one of his favourite restaurants as it was on his way home. His English was good and he told us he had worked in Canada for a while. The food at this place was also excellent and at very reasonable prices. On our last day, the clouds disappeared and the sun came out and with it a little bit of warmth, but not in the shade. We went up Victoria Peak via the Peak Tram, which has been taking tourists to the top since 1888 and is classed as the ultimate Hong Kong experience, to take in the vast panoramic views of Hong Kong and Victoria Harbour and Hong Kong’s distant southern beaches.  We returned via the Peak Tram and walked towards the touristic Lan Kwai Fong area. We came across an interesting small cafe so we decided on a coffee break. I asked the guy sitting next to us whose food looked appealing, what he was eating and we ordered the same. We got chatting, his English was perfect and it turned out that he had recently worked in the financial City of London for a year. He recommended a few interesting places nearby to visit, like the Tai Kwan, the former Central Police Headquarters and Victoria Prison which are now museums. We left together and as he lived nearby he volunteered to drop us off at the famous Central Mid-Levels Elevator, the largest public elevator in the world. It is built on a steep hill, depending on the times of the day, the elevator goes up or comes down. Beside it are stone stairs. It is very convenient for the locals going to and from work. But first we did a tour of the police and prison museums. Then we continued to the elevator itself and took it to the very top level. It is not a continuous elevator but consists of several elevators from the bottom area of Central up to Soho because of the road system. During the morning commute time, the elevators go downhill and then change direction around lunchtime to go uphill. Genius system. Just like most of the outdoor walkways these too are covered to protect against the inclement weather. On the back down we took the stairs and explored the little side streets around mid-level and Soho with its many cafes, restaurants and bars. This is the heart of the business area and many of the Asian financial movers and shakers live in the area. View of the sunrise from our hotel room Admiring the view of Hong Kong’s skyline from the Peak Skyline of Hong Kong Enjoying the sunshine on the Harbour As the weather was so nice we took time out to take even more photographs. Time was running and with a heavy heart we decided to head back to our hotel to collect our luggage and take a taxi to the airport for our night flight to Melbourne. Did we like Hong Kong and would be go back? Most certainly! There is so much to see and do and, although we gave ourselves 3 days, this really wasn’t long enough to explore in-depth. There is far more to see including the surrounding islands including Macau. But now we are looking forward to continue our journey.

4. Mainland Australia - Victoria and New South Wales 31 January to 21 February 2025   We could not update our travel blog because of technical issues and the internet. Now we are back home and have completed it, and call this update part 2.    6. Sydney   17 February 2025   Lisa: Today was our last morning in the campervan. Thanks to the heating, it was nice and warm in our campervan during the night, apart from when you came too close to the van's metal walls, as it had no insulation. Dave had to wake me up at 7 am as I was so tired and could have slept on forever. But we had to finish packing, have breakfast, and then drive for two hours to drop off our campervan just outside of Sydney. There were no problems with the drop-off. The damage to the windscreen from a stone thrown up by one of the road trains on the way to the Blue Mountains was covered by our insurance. We informed them of the campervan's many (minor and major) faults but assured them that otherwise, we had a great time. Then Dave booked us an Uber taxi to the hotel in Sydney because there was a strike on the trains.   We arrived safely at our hotel, The Mantra Sydney Central in Haymarket. We enjoyed immensely having space to move about and sit more than two feet apart. Dave no longer needed to fear hitting his head on a cupboard and gladly walked upright. You no longer had to squeeze past the other and suck in your stomach when you wanted to change position or go to the toilet or the dining/sleeping area. We quickly settled in, and then it was time to explore Sydney. My sandals were about to fall apart, and here was the time and place to get new ones in one of Sydney's many outdoor clothing shops. I had admired the sandals of a woman in Apollo Bay. They were Keen Sandals, a famous American brand. And after a few visits to some outdoor clothing shops, we found a pair of "Keen Whisper Sandals", in my size, on sale, and at half price too. They cost a third of the price I would have had to pay in the UK. A bargain, indeed. They fit perfectly. The colour, black, wouldn't have been my first choice, but I can live with it. I left my old sandals behind, although they did not accept them as part-payment. 😊  With my new bouncy sandals and after a coffee break, I felt well-equipped to walk for miles to see the many sights of Sydney. First, we walked around the city centre. Then we took the tram towards the Wharf and got off at the end of the line at Circular Quay, where we admired the Sydney Harbour Bridge and the iconic Sydney Opera House. Unfortunately, the sun was at the wrong angle, so we would have to return at another time of day to photograph the Sydney Harbour Bridge in its full glory. Still, we enjoyed the sights and atmosphere immensely, especially walking along the Quay in glorious sunshine. People sat outside along the harbour front, enjoying drinks in the many bars. When we left the hotel at midday, it was 10C, but now it was a comfortable 22C, and I slowly took off my fleece layers.   We liked Sydney's relaxed atmosphere with its beautiful architectural mix of old houses, big and small, and modern buildings. We went up and down by tram and watched the scenery and the many people moving about their business. Then, back in Haymarket, we strolled through Chinatown and shared delicious Thai meals: chicken curry and pork with vegetables. Yummy. Then, back home at the hotel, we tried to watch TV without success as the programmes seemed worse than in England.     Dave:  We're up at 06:00, showered, packed, breakfasted and drove out of the campsite at 08:10. They were right, the temperature did drop to 6C, and we were thankful that our campervan did have heating. Katoomba Falls was at 1,000m, and the road that led onto the main highway, through the narrow suburban streets, was steep and twisty. The dual carriageway toward Sydney was also steep in places, with many bends. The speed limit was 100km per hour with the occasional 110km. When we passed a school, there was a compulsory speed limit of 40km until 09:30 on school days, which was strictly enforced. The nearer to Sydney, the busier the roads became. Our TomTom guided us along congested motorways and toll roads. We arrived at the Apollo campervan depot in the southern suburbs of Sydney at 10:30. We swiftly passed through all the documentation. Our list of all the faults we'd found was documented. The campervan was checked, and the only fault they found was the cracked windscreen caused by the stone from a passing road train. I ordered an Uber taxi, which arrived 5 minutes later at 11:10. The taxi was a Tesla, and we were very impressed by such an advanced all-electric vehicle as we were driven into the centre of Sydney. The taxi cost AUD54 (£27) and we were dropped off outside the Mantra Sydney Central Hotel at 11:45, our home for the next three nights. We were allocated room 806. It was nothing special, but it did have a microwave, cooker, fridge and a balcony. It was sunny, 22C and very windy. Too windy for us to use the balcony, and the view we had was over the rooftop of the office block opposite, with a dozen air-conditioned units softly whirring. The big plus was, we were located right in the centre of town, next to Chinatown. After we'd unpacked, we went for a walkabout as Lisa wanted to replace her old worn-out sandals. We were impressed with the cosmopolitan central district of the city of Sydney. It felt right, had a feel-good factor, was easy to walk around and had an impressive public transport system of trams and buses. Lisa found the Keen sandals that she wanted and got a new washbag, too. We celebrated by going for a coffee and afterwards returned to our hotel. We picked up a map of the central district and, at 17:00, took the L3 tram from just outside our hotel up to Circular Quay, which took 20 minutes. Sydney has a tap-in and tap-out system with your credit card to pay for all public transport journeys. The tram terminated at Circular Quay, and from there, it was only a 5-minute walk to the famous Sydney Opera House. What a photo opportunity, especially as we had sunshine, a cloudless sky and the light was just right for taking photos of the Opera House but not of the famous bridge. The area teemed with people just like us, soaking up the atmosphere and gazing in awe at the architecture, not only of the clam-shaped roof of the Opera House itself but of the equally famous Sydney Harbour Bridge. We've seen both many times on TV; even so, to see them physically was unbelievable. Our cameras couldn't do them justice. We first walked through the grounds of Government House with its huge trees and lush-green lawns and down the steep stone staircase and took a leisurely stroll around the walkway surrounding the Opera House. The place was so vibrant, full of life, and warm as the wind had dropped. We ate a fantastic meal at a nearby Thai restaurant and then at 21:00, returned to our hotel. It was warm enough to walk around without a jacket. We drank a glass of wine and tried, unsuccessfully, to find something decent to watch on television, gave up and went to bed.     18 February 2025   Lisa: We got up early in the morning, and after breakfasting on the leftovers from our campervan and continuing our writing, it was time to book our seats for the flights to Hong Kong and back to London. Being members of Cathay Pacific Airlines, we had the benefit that we could book our seats 48 hours in advance. This was important as we found on previous long haul flights that if you are late checking in you could finish up, as we did, in the last row of the aeroplane, where the seats don't recline, next to the toilets, and when the airline had run out of the popular menu,  you had no choice but to accept anything that was left. This time, we were determined to book early to get decent seats. But what we thought was a 5-minute exercise ended up taking over an hour. The system had allocated us seats we did not want, where families with babies are usually seated, and it was impossible to change them. We received an error message at least 15 times. We finally managed to get the seats we wanted only due to our persistence. It was time to leave the hotel as we were tearing our hair out because of the stress, so we decided to take it easy and relax for the rest of the day.   We took a tram to Circular Quay and a ferry to Manly Beach. It was warm, the sun was shining, and it was a great opportunity to take in the rays and enjoy the warmth, which we had missed so much in the rest of Australia. Manly Beach was nice, and we had a tasty snack of chicken and halloumi wraps and coffee and tea in one of the lovely backstreet coffee shops. We chose them because the top-rated restaurants on the beachfront were outrageously expensive or offered simple but overpriced fish and chips, which we could get in England every day. However, the key attraction was the ferry ride along the Sydney Harbour, passing the Sydney Opera House and the Sydney Harbour Bridge. We had stunning views from our ferry and took lots of photos.   We had to get back and change in time as we had a special date, which was the highlight of our Sydney trip. After we had booked our Australian holiday in autumn, for some reason, I clicked on Facebook, which I had not used for a long time. I found a message from one of my doctor colleagues, Khine, with whom I had worked closely in Myanmar in the Ministry of Health in 2018 when David and I worked as volunteers for VSO for seven months in Myanmar. Khine had been very supportive of me and my work. She was the only colleague who spoke English well. We held several workshops in local communities together in preparation for a nationwide health literacy strategy proposal. Afterwards, we kept in contact, even after the military coup on the 1st February 2021, when the military ousted the democratically elected government of Aung San Suu Kyi. But soon, Khine had to go underground, and suddenly we lost contact. I did not know whether she was alive or dead. I did not dare to try and contact her via Facebook for fear of putting her in even more danger. Now, on Facebook, there was a post of her on that day with photos of skyscrapers, but without any further comments. She was alive. But where was she? I used her old email address, hoping it was still active and my email would reach her. And indeed, she picked up my message a few hours later and responded. She had to go into hiding for almost a year because the Military Government had brought charges against her that would have put her in prison for life. Still, she was able to get out of Myanmar and go to Australia on a humanitarian visa. She was now living with her husband in Sydney. What? I could not believe it! According to our travel plan, we will finish our journey in Sydney by the end of February, and we could then meet up again. I emailed our travel plans, and we agreed to meet. Great! We were overjoyed when we met. We spent two evenings together and over a Chinese dinner, she told us what had happened to her; how she had escaped and how she was living now. She promised to write her whole story for our blog, but all in due course.     Dave:   Maybe it was the strange bed or the bedroom, but we were both awake from 01:30 until 03:00. We managed to fall back to sleep. I woke at 07:00 and wrote my diary and downloaded photos. As Cathay Pacific Airline members, we were allowed to check in 48 hours before our flight, so 11:05, we started the check-in procedures. We told ourselves never again as the procedure was prone to errors and far too complicated. We'd thought we had finished, only to be informed that something was wrong and that we'd have to start all over again. Many times, we booked our seats, and each time, they reverted back. Finally, we were successful. Grrrr! It took us over an hour to check-in and book our seats for both flights back to London. The time had flown by, and it was now midday.   We took the tram to Circular Quay and a ferry from Wharf 3 to Manly as there was a beach and we wanted to get in a little sunbathing in. The ferry took 40 minutes, and it was only a 5-minute walk from the Manly Ferry terminal to the beach. We were hungry and found a small cafe for a cappuccino for me and a pot of tea for Lisa. We also bought a rather nice chicken wrap for me and a halloumi toastie for Lisa. After so much travelling, lying on a beach and soaking up the sunshine felt good. We retraced our journey and arrived back at our hotel at 16:30, which gave us enough time to shower and change before we met Khine, Lisa's colleague from Myanmar, and her husband at 17:00. They took us to a Thai restaurant, whose speciality was a tabletop barbecue. First, we ordered several jugs of beer, and then the barbecue unit was placed in the centre of the table. It had a one-ringed burner, and a small gas canister was used to heat the burner. A metal hat with a broad rim was placed over the flame. Water was poured into the rim, which resembled a moat around a castle. Baby squid, mussels and Pak Choi were placed in hot water and on the hot rounded metal top of the hat, we put sliced beef, pork and chicken using our chopsticks. It was a rather unusual way to eat, and it was a little fiddly, but it did taste rather nice. They had to leave at 20:30 as they had a long drive home and both had to work the next day. Even so the time was short, we managed to talk a little about their escape from Myanmar into Thailand. They spent 18 months there and were finally accepted by Australia on humanitarian grounds and had only been in Australia for the last year.      19 February 2025   Lisa: The next day, the weather was sunny and warm again. Finally, in the last three days of our 60-day journey, I could unpack and wear some of my summer dresses. Dave and I went by bus to the world-famous Bondi surfing beach, which, according to Dave, is shown each year on Xmas on UK TV, when people are surfing on the beach and eating their Christmas turkey in the heat, in contrast, in the motherland, the UK, people celebrate Christmas, sitting beside the fire, wrapped up warm in jumpers because of the cold. While sitting on the beach in the sun, we felt the warmth on our bodies, and we splashed in the water. Now, we felt like we had finally arrived in Australia. That was what we had expected all along. We made the best use of our last hours in the sun in Australia. Bondi Beach is famous for its surfing and high waves. It is also a bit posh and pretentious. We, therefore, took the bus back to Sydney and had a tasty late lunch of Cajun chicken wraps in one of the many cafes in Haymarket, where the coffee was also excellent. We then strolled through the streets of Haymarket, visited a big market hall, and took in the easygoing atmosphere of a modern city with its many parks, benches, outside seating areas and shops and restaurants.    In the evening, we met again with Khine and her husband and discussed over a meal in Chinatown what they thought the future would hold for them and what options they had.     Dave: I was awake at 04:30, wrote my diary at the desk and tried not to wake Lisa. At 07:00 we showered, had breakfast and did a bit of packing, as tomorrow we were flying back to London. At 08:45, we left the hotel to make our way to the famous surfers' paradise, Bondi Beach. We took the tram to Circular Quay, and from there, it was a 2-minute walk to the 333 bus stop that would take us there directly. They'd got the weather forecast wrong, and instead of a sunny, cloudless day, we had partial cloud. The bus ride was very enjoyable, and we got an overview of the streets of central Sydney and the suburbs during our 40-minute journey. Bondi Beach was a lot smaller than I expected. We explored a few streets before heading to the beach and spent a few hours on the beach sunbathing and diving through the pounding surf. At 14:00, we took the 333 bus back to town and got off at the Museum Station. On the walk through the streets back to our hotel, we stopped at a lovely cafe and shared a Cajun chicken wrap with our cups of tea and coffee. We had a bit of time to spare, so we walked into Chinatown, through busy Paddy's Market and got back to our hotel at 16:00, which left us just enough time to shower, change, do a bit of repacking before meeting Khine and her husband once again. This time they came by train so they could drink and not have to drive. They arrived at 17:30 and took us to a pub called 'Cheers'. The beer was good, and we shared some pub food. We left at 21:00 and said goodbye to them at our hotel. They took the train home, and we tried to find something to watch on television as we finished off the bottle of wine we'd started last night. At 21:45, we gave up and went to bed.     20 February 2025   Lisa:   Today is the 59th day of our travel, and it is the day we go back home. It will be a long day and a long night until we arrive at London Heathrow: a 9 1/2 hours flight from Sydney to HongKong, then 5 1/2 hours waiting time at Hong Kong Airport. Then, at 11 pm, a 14 1/2 hour flight from Hong Kong to London Heathrow. I bet we will be tired and shattered when we arrive. But that's the price to pay when you are travelling. I am not complaining. As I usually can't sleep on a plane, I had much time to pass. I spent the time writing on the text of our travel blog, and watching a few good films, some I had seen many times, such as "The Constant Gardener", but also the new movie "Conclave", a political thriller with Ralph Fiennes about the election of a new pope. I managed to concentrate on playing a few Soduko games and even got a few hours of sleep on the way to Heathrow.     Dave:   We'd set our watch alarms for 06:00 and were both awake a few minutes before. We'd showered, packed and breakfasted on the croissants we'd bought yesterday and were ready to go at 07:30. We checked out and at 08:00 I ordered an Uber taxi to take us to the Sydney airport, T1. It was cloudy, had rained overnight and the roads were wet when our taxi arrived at 08:10. He dropped us at the airport at 08:45. The ride cost AUD41.83 (£21.14). Even though the airport was very busy, we quickly passed through bag drop-off and were just as fast through security. This was a well-organised and efficiently run airport. Once we'd been processed, we went for a coffee and waited to be called for our flight. We were on the 11:05 Cathay Pacific Airways flight CX 162 to Hong Kong T1, with a local arrival time of 17:30. The flying time would be 9 hours and 25 minutes. We took off a few minutes late, made up time and landed at 17:10, 20 minutes early. At 22:55, our next flight was Cathay Pacific Airways flight CX25, with a local arrival time of 05:30 at London's Heathrow Airport T3. The flying time was 14 hours and 35 minutes. We took off on time and landed at 05:10, 20 minutes early. Then back home with the tube.   21 February 2025   Dave:   Our flight must have been one of the first into Heathrow airport as there were no queues at immigration and passport control. Our luggage arrived at the carousel at 05:55. Yes, we'd had a swift passage through the airport. Unfortunately, we couldn't use our freedom passes on the London Underground system as it wasn't yet 09.00, so we used our credit cards instead. A signalling problem on the underground meant we had to get off the Piccadilly Line at Acton Town, take the District Line to Embankment and then the Northern Line to Belsize Park. We walked into our flat at 08:30 and found the fridge full of goodies, including homemade loaf and apple cake supplied by our friends Ursula and Jon, who'd looked after our flat in our absence. Such a thoughtful treat from such good friends! We'd been travelling for 35 hours and 15 minutes. We managed to sleep a little on both flights, but travelling economy on such busy long-haul flights does get rather tiresome. The food they serve on economy class flights, whilst very welcome, does leave a lot to be desired.    Back home - what are our thoughts about our latest adventure?   Lisa:   That's the end of our epic 60-day Australia trip. We saw many amazing things and had fantastic experiences, both positive and negative. The varying landscapes and the incredible wildlife in Tasmania, the many interesting people we met on the road, the Great Ocean Road, the National Parks, like the Wilsons Prom, Grampians and the Blue Mountains, will be imprinted in our minds forever. Everywhere we went, including the cities and small towns as well as the countryside, was awesome. Of course, as newcomers to travelling with a campervan, we had to get used to that lifestyle. The freedom of the open road was great. But living in a confined space was challenging, at times, and would have been easier in warmer and less windy weather conditions, where you can spend more time outside. When something went wrong in the campervan, which often did, it was stressful, and this is not something you come across when staying in a hotel. But, thanks to Dave, all problems were solved quickly. Going out for a meal was costly (when being on the road for 60 days) and less attractive, but it was not necessary as we could cook better ourselves. We loved the fresh fish and seafood. But this involved regularly stocking up on food and planning ahead for those days when we were in remote areas without a nearby well-stocked supermarket. We both are fond of shopping in places we don't know. Strolling through markets and supermarkets gives us both great pleasure as there is so much you can learn about a country and its people by the food people buy. As we travelled light (me 14 kg and Dave 16.8 kg, of which most were charging cables), the amount of clothes you carry is limited, and one has to do lots of washing and wear the same clothes. Towards the end of our trip, I sometimes felt an almost irresistible urge to throw away most of my clothes and indulge in shopping for something new. I didn't, apart from the sandals - and I didn't need to. As Dave often reminds me, a full wardrobe is waiting for me at home. I just needed some patience and not retail therapy.   The very weak internet at the campsites and in general was driving us crazy. The internet was okay to access social media and get emails, but it was not good enough for more sophisticated activities, such as uploading text and photos onto the blog. By the end, I had to give it up and postpone uploading onto the blog until I returned home. Despite the bad or sometimes absent internet, we tried to keep ourselves up-to-date with the news of what was happening back home and around the world. And lots has happened since we left home on Christmas Eve, most of it quite worrying. When we did not have internet, it felt strange, being cut off from the outer world, and we worried about missing important information. But in a way, it also felt relaxing and stress-free, as there was nothing we could do about it.   Despite the challenges, our trip was great, and the 60 days went very quickly. We tried to include in our travel plans some downtime, but those days were quickly filled up again because there was so much interesting to see. Now, at the end of our trip, we are exhausted and feel like we need a holiday. Not joking.   Would I do this again? Certainly, tomorrow, if possible. Not necessarily to Australia, as it is a very long journey, and there are many more fantastic places to see. If possible, I would prefer to go somewhere warm and less windy.    Dave: How do I feel after travelling on this adventure for 60 days? There were times that tested our patience, such as not being able to download our photos or send email messages, because many of the campsites we stayed at had no internet or internet with a very weak signal. Our campervan was one of the smallest in the range, and this was our choice because of its manoeuvrability. We needed to park in towns and supermarket carparks when we needed to resupply. Also, we both drove the campervan, and many of the roads we travelled along were very narrow and twisty. We'd covered 3,700+kms in Tasmania and 2,700kms in Victoria and New South Wales, a total of 6,400+kms, or just under 4,000 miles, so fuel consumption needed to be taken into account too. On the open road, our campervan was good and had great visibility. However, the practicalities we had every night of having to convert the rear bench seats into a double bed and every morning converting them back again, had its moments. Then, there were problems associated with cooking and living in such a confined space. The simple fact of squeezing past each other, especially whilst the other person was cooking, would've tested the patience of a saint. We're still talking to each other and don’t have any knife wounds, which means we must be very tolerant. In fact, we were so tolerant and well-behaved that we gave each other medals for having passed the very stiff survival course and sometimes going that extra mile. The scar tissue on my head has slowly recovered and was greatly helped by me, taping teatowels over the sharp edges above the cooker and head-height shelves and cupboards. Like the campsites that promised us they had a wonderful internet, the Apollo rental company made promises too. We were disappointed with both rental campervans in Tasmania and the Australian mainland. As mentioned previously, there were many faults. The main problem with the Tasmanian campervan was the broken toilet cassette, which was time-consuming to resolve. The main issue with the Melbourne campervan the problem sourcing their smallest campervan that we had ordered and paid months in advance. It took them several hours to find one and I don’t think they’d had time to check it out  as we found it had a few niggeling problems, which were annoying but fixable. I was pleased to find that the assumption, you’d fall off the world in Australia, being on the other side of the world, was a myth. Would we do it all again? Yes! Give us a few days to recover, to wash our clothes, and for me to buy another pair of Speedo swimming trunks to replace the ones I left behind.   4.4 New South Wales – The Blue Mountains   14 February 2025   Lisa:  At 8 am, we set off on our long drive to our next destination, the Blue Mountains in New South Wales, NSW. The distance from Halls Gap is almost 1200km, and the estimated driving time is 11 1/2 hours by car, but with our campervan, it would take much longer. We have not booked any accommodation as we didn't know how the roads were and how far we would travel in a day. However, we'd calculated 2 days to cover the distance. It's a long drive, and we decided to take it easy and change drivers every 1 1/2  to 2 hours.   This was a good decision because it soon became both a tedious and challenging drive. It was challenging because you always had to look out for kangaroos who could suddenly jump out into the road. The many roadkills squashed on the side of the road were evidence of this. The animals frequently cross the road during the day but are usually most active between dusk and dawn. So, one has to watch out for these little buggers, of which some are quite big. We prefer not to hit them, but if we did, they'd do a lot of damage to our campervan. Tedious drive along ruler-straight roads passing kilometres of flat yellow fields The drive was tedious because of the landscape and the road. We passed kilometres of flat yellow fields of straw or grass, sometimes a few black cows or sheep grazing on them, hardly any houses or traffic, apart from a few oversized road trains. The roads are straight, perhaps every hour or so a small bend. The quality of the road is something to get accustomed to. Sometimes, the heat had cooked up the tar and the surface was broken, or the hard shoulder had broken away, or there was only one lane that had to be shared with the oncoming traffic. When this happens, each driver moves half of the car off the paved road onto the gravel and, after passing, back onto the paved road again. Easy, when you know what to do and when you drive slowly so that the pots and pans and cutlery don't get thrown about. Our tea and coffee breaks were greatly appreciated.   Few villages and towns were on the way, but there was a network of many little roads, and even the highways were not dual carriageways. Our TomTom navigator system constantly wanted to send us off course to even smaller roads, possibly looking for the shortest route, but that would have even taken longer. With a combined effort, in addition to TomTom's directions, we followed the Google Maps road on my iPhone and moved forward. GPS is good, but when it or the mobile signal failed, we had to drive blind, hoping we were still on the road towards our planned destination. How good were the olden times when you had a proper road map in your hand and could see where you were going?   Back in Halls Gap, we had asked in the tourist information centre what the best way was towards Sydney, which is in the direction of the Blue Mountains. Nobody could tell us, as they had never driven so far or left the state of Victoria. Happy to help, they proudly gave us a map of Victoria, which was only for the first three hours of our journey. But we managed.   From Halls Gap, we drove through little towns like Marino and Donald, stopped for coffee in Swan Hill at midday and bought supplies for the evening dinner. At 3 pm, we stopped in Hay to refuel but had difficulties finding a cafe because they were already closed. We found a bakery that was just about to close, who took pity on us and gave us coffee and tea to take away, but we could sit on their bench outside. When we left, they wished us a good evening. At 3 pm? When do they go to bed? We continued driving as it was still too early to stop for the day, and we needed to get as many kilometres behind us as possible on the first day. From 5 pm onwards, we started looking for any of the free campsites along or near the highways listed on the app that we downloaded from our Campervan rental agency. Most looked dodgy, and so we continued. In Australia, it is illegal to stay with your campervan overnight anywhere. You must stop at a dedicated site. Shortly before 6 pm, I phoned one of the official campsites on my app. They were closed already for the day (closed at 5 pm), so we had no choice but to continue, constantly looking out for kangaroos that might decide to join friends for dinner on the other side of the road.   The clouds got darker and darker, and as we drove on, we came through an area where the road was wet. It must have rained recently as the road and the fields were water-logged. I could only hope the kangaroos did not want to get wet feet and would stay where they were. Finally, at 7.15 pm, we arrived at an overnight rest stop for trucks, campervans and caravans that looked trustworthy and had good reviews on the app, the Marsden Rest Area. They had picnic tables and benches and also toilets. The picnic site was waterlogged, so it was unusable, and the drop toilets were unusable, too. Luckily, with our campervan, we had our own toilet and were self-contained. We cooked a lovely Valentine's dinner of barramundi fish from the supermarket in Swan Hill. We toasted to our successful journey, and not having hit a kangaroo (or roo, as the Australians say) with a nice glass of red wine, sitting in our campervan next to the highway while the huge road train trucks rattled past by. I wondered whether we could sleep at all with all that noise, but after 11 hours of driving, this was not a problem. I slept through and woke up at 6 am, ready for the next part of the journey.    Dave:  The wind had sprung up overnight. I was awake at 05:30, read my emails and checked the latest news. At 06:30, I made Lisa a cuppa. After breakfast and emptying the toilet cassette, we set off for the Blue Mountains at 08:00. Even though there were a few clouds around, we had an incredible sunrise. We had a long couple of days ahead of us as we headed east towards the Blue Mountains. We would have to find somewhere to spend the night in a designated rest area, as campervans are not allowed to overnight by the side of the road in Australia. We had no idea where, as this would depend on the road and traffic conditions. We chose a more northerly route to avoid going through the Melbourne suburbs, so the distance was a bit longer, around 1,200km.   This drive offered an opportunity to experience the diverse landscapes of southeastern Australia, from the rugged beauty of the Grampians to the lush vistas of the Blue Mountains. We gradually left the ruggedness of the Grampians behind and then drove for hours through the mind-numbingly vast emptiness of the flat, listless, straw-coloured landscape. Once again, the empty roads were ruler-straight and seemed to go on forever. We each drove for two hours before changing to break up the monotony. At noon, we'd reached Swan Hill, where we stopped in a Woolworths supermarket to buy fish for tonight's dinner. No microwave or kettle as we wouldn't have power, only our two-ringed gas stove. We had a coffee in the adjoining cafe and continued our journey along the A20, Sturt Highway. At 15:15, we stopped to refuel in a small town called Hay and, once again, had a coffee break before continuing along the B64. We were now travelling along a busy highway, and there were huge road train juggernauts barrelling along at the maximum speed of 110km/hr. Road trains barrelling along the road What is a road train? Road trains are essential for transporting goods across vast and remote landscapes. These impressive vehicles consist of a powerful truck pulling multiple trailers, allowing the effective movement of large quantities of freight over long distances. Very impressive indeed until you get behind one and need to overtake it.   Ahead, we could see the clouds gathering, and the nearer we came to the clouds, the wetter the roads and surrounding fields became. Thankfully, the rain clouds were going in the same direction as we, and we were on its trailing edge. We passed a few official rest areas, but they looked seedy or iffy, and we drove on. It was 19:15 when we pulled into the very wet Marston Rest Area Northbound, a vast gravel area with a picnic table and metal cabinets containing two toilets. I assumed one was for women and the other for men. A wooden ramp accessed the drop toilets. The smell inside was something else, but the biggest worry was the possibility of a snake popping it's head out of the toilet and biting your bum. Interestingly, they both had full rolls of toilet paper. We cooked a starter of broccolini with boiled potatoes, followed by the barramundi fish steaks we'd bought earlier, prepared in a frying pan with onions and tomatoes. It was delicious! Our beer and glasses of wine never tasted better! We were both asleep by 21:30.     15 February 2025   Lisa: After breakfast, we continued our journey at 8 am. The nearer we came towards the Blue Mountains, the landscape changed. After the town of Cowra, we entered the hills, and the flat yellow fields changed to green hills. More bends in the road made driving more enjoyable. The traffic increased, and soon, there were more cars than lorries on the road. We still had another 5 1/2 hours to go. At 11 am, we stopped for coffee and a Quiche Lorraine in a community cafe in Blayney and sat on their terrace to warm up in the late morning sun. Then we continued, and finally, at 1.30 pm, we arrived at our (pre-booked) campsite, the Katoomba Falls Tourist Park.   As soon as we had settled in and refreshed ourselves with some juice and yoghurt, we went out to explore. The area of Katoomba has many walks leading to waterfalls, through a rainforest and many lookouts into stunning scenery. There is so much to see and to do. There are walks for every ability. We decided to walk along the Prince Henry Cliff Walk to the Katoomba Falls and Echo Point towards the Three Sisters, famous rock formations. We immensely enjoyed the walk and the beautiful views, but we were disturbed by the fact that we had to share the path and viewing points with hundreds of other tourists, most of whom were driven to the relevant viewing points by bus, rushed there to take a photo and then back to the bus. No wonder; it was the weekend after all. Bad planning on our part, but we wanted to fit it all in - and we had only a few days left. Only when we walked further, away from the most popular tourist spots, and later in the afternoon when the buses had left, driving the tourists back to Sydney, could we relax and enjoy the views undisturbed. View of the Three Sisters and the Jamison Valley At 6.30, we went home and prepared a delicious meal using almost all of our supplies as we had to return our camper on Monday.     Dave : It seemed like we were trying to sleep by the side of a Heathrow Airport runway because of the thundering whooshing noise of the passing road trains. Around 04:00, the noise eased off a little and increased as dawn approached. My watch showed a temperature of 14C; even so, it felt cold in the campervan. There was a slight problem with the 12-volt battery-operated interior lights; the toilet light was just a dim glow, cured by switching off and on the main power supply. The sun was shining as we drove off and continued our journey at 08:15. Gradually, the flat straw-coloured landscape gave way to a hillier landscape, and the colour green started to return the more easterly we travelled. It seemed months had passed since we'd seen trees, bushes and green fields. We took a welcome coffee break in a busy cafe in Blayney. We were now in the Blue Mountains, and the roads were busier as we slowly climbed higher into this popular mountainous tourist area. We arrived at Katoomba Falls Tourist Park, our home for the next two nights, at 13:30, a drive of just under five and a half hours. It was a very nice and well-maintained campsite and was fully booked. Yes, a very popular site. We connected our campervan to the water, electricity and waste outlet and checked the site before making a welcome cuppa. Once we'd recovered from our drive, we went off to explore the area.   The combination of Katoomba Falls and the Jamison Valley makes for one of Australia's most breathtaking natural landscapes, drawing nature lovers, photographers, and adventure seekers alike. Katoomba Falls is a stunning tiered waterfall located in the Blue Mountains National Park. It plunges over sandstone cliffs into the lush rainforest below, creating a spectacular sight, especially after heavy rain. The falls are illuminated at night, adding a magical touch to the landscape. Visitors can access spectacular views of Katoomba Falls from various lookouts, including Scenic World Skyway and the Katoomba Falls Round Walk, which weaves through the temperate rainforest and offers multiple vantage points. Below Katoomba Falls lies the Jamison Valley, a vast and dramatic expanse of wilderness. The valley is part of the Greater Blue Mountains World Heritage Area and is characterised by its towering sandstone cliffs, deep gorges, and thick eucalyptus forests that produce the region's famous blue haze. It is home to diverse wildlife, including lyrebirds, wallabies, and echidnas.   One of the best ways to experience the valley is through its extensive network of hiking trails. Scenic World , one of the top attractions in the Blue Mountains, offers rides such as the Scenic Railway, the world's steepest passenger railway, which descends into the valley below. This is an unforgettable way to experience the region's stunning landscapes, including Katoomba Falls, the Three Sisters, and the Jamison Valley. It features four main attractions: 1. Scenic Skyway : A glass-bottom cable car that glides 270 meters above the Jamison Valley, offering panoramic views of Katoomba Falls, the Three Sisters and Mount Solitary. The glass floor gives a thrilling perspective of the valley below, but there are also solid-floor sections for those who prefer a less daring experience. 2. Scenic Railway : Known as the steepest passenger railway in the world, the Scenic Railway has a 52-degree incline as it descends through a cliff tunnel into the valley below. Visitors can choose different seating angles, from a standard ride to the more adventurous cliffhanger setting for an extra thrill. This steep railway originated from the coal mining days of Katoomba and was used to transport the miners and coal and shale up and down from the mine. Coal mining in Katoomba was a relatively small industry compared to the larger coalfields in the Hunter Valley and Illawarra regions. However, coal and shale mining did play a role in the early development of Blue Mountain's economy in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. 3. Scenic Walkway : A 2.4km boardwalk through the lush Jamison Valley rainforest offers a peaceful walk among ancient trees, ferns, and remnants of Katoomba's mining history. The walkway is suitable for all fitness levels and provides a chance to experience the valley's rich biodiversity up close. 4. Scenic Cableway : The largest cable car in the Southern Hemisphere, the Scenic Cableway gently descends 545 meters into the Jamison Valley, providing sweeping views of Orphan Rock, Mt Solitary, and the Ruined Castle rock formation.   We'd decided to take a more intensive tour the next day, so we followed the most popular trail today. This took us along the very edge of the cliff. We stopped many times at the lookouts to admire and photograph the stunning views, especially of the Three Sisters and Echo Point, where Queen Elizabeth Lookout is situated, so named after her Australian tour in February 1954 where she viewed the Three Sisters and the Blue Mountains from this very spot. View of the Three Sisters The tourist buses drop their passengers off at the beginning, and they walk along the side of the cliff, stopping to take photos of each other at the lookouts, and the tourist buses meet them in the car park beside Echo Point. You can only imagine how extremely busy this viewpoint was. Stunning views of the Jamison Valley below We returned the same way we came, and when we returned to the campsite at 18:30, we had a long chat with our new neighbours. They were Australian-born and were on an extensive three-month road trip around Australia. This was a serious road trip. They drove a big Toyota SUV with a boat on top, which towed a twin-axled, extending side, top-of-the-range caravan. No half-measures for these Australians. We drank our beer outside at our small table and also had our first course of corn husks outside. However, when the sun went down, the temperature dropped, and we had to eat our second course of fajitas inside. We were in bed at 22:00 and kept the heating on all night.   16 February 2025   Lisa: Today is Sunday, and we had hoped many people would go home early and the tourist attractions would be less crowded. As we soon found out, this was not the case. Many people from Sydney come for a day trip in their cars or with tour buses. And there were many of them. We decided to have an easy day and follow the touristic route to explore this area of the Blue Mountains. We bought a ticket to Scenic World, one of the Blue Mountains' most popular attractions, which Dave had already described in more detail above. This included three rides: We went with the Scenic Skyway over the Jamison River Valley to enjoy the dramatic view of the Three Sisters and Echo Point, a stunning rock formation. Then, a ride down into the valley with the Scenic Railway, the world's steepest passenger railway, partly through a tunnel. (The area was once used as the Katoomba Coal Mine, and the Katoomba Scenic Railway was originally part of a network of rail lines built to bring coal and kerosene shale from the mines up to the railhead.) We then walked through the lush greenery of the rainforest along the boardwalks and rode upwards again on the incredible Scenic Cableway. It took us all afternoon to get through this programme, partly because we enjoyed the scenery and took many photos. However, most of the time, we spent queuing for the next ride, as the system and staff were overwhelmed with the number of visitors. The Scenic World sites closed at 5 pm, and everyone had to make sure they were back on time, which meant judging the length of the queues; otherwise, they would have to take the steep climb out from the valley floor or stay behind with the creepy crawlies in the beautiful but deserted valley floor. We managed to get back well before 5 pm and then walked again, away from the crowds, along the walkway towards Echo Point and took the opportunity to repeat some of our photo shoots, this time lit by beautiful sunshine.   We spent the evening packing, cleaning and cooking our last supper in our campervan. We had hoped to be able to enjoy our last dinner outside in the fading sunshine, but no chance. The wind got up, and it cooled down to 7C. That night, we had to put the heating on one final time. This was summer in Australia. Unbelievable! However, according to our Australian neighbours, they had an unusually cold summer in Australia this year.   Dave:  It was a cold night. When we got up, the sun was shining, and the temperature was only 9C, but it quickly warmed up. We breakfasted outside and then wrote our diaries and sorted photos until noon. We did some packing as we were driving into Sydney the next day to drop off our campervan at the Apollo depot. It was a cloudless dawn, but the clouds appeared mid-morning, and it was cold until the clouds parted and the sun came back at 13:00. As time was short, we decided to go the full Monty and pay AUD 115.20 (£58.32) for our two Scenic World tickets. We would cross the gorge on the Scenic Skyway, travel down the Scenic Railway, take the Scenic Walkway and finally take the Scenic Cableway back to the top to take the Scenic Skyway back to where we started from. We would then walk around the Katoomba Falls area to the other lookouts. In theory, that was our plan. The reality was a different matter.   There was a long queue to take the Scenic Skyway to the other side. Before taking the Scenic Railway, we had to queue to buy our Scenic World wristband tickets. Having bought them, we had to join another queue for the Scenic Railway. This took over 30 minutes, surrounded by screaming babies and children. It was very annoying and time-consuming. The train ride down was well worth the wait and was spectacular as it was so steep. I can only imagine what it must have been like for the miners, all those years ago, as our brief journey was sanitised for the tourists. Time was our worst enemy. We had so much to see and so little time. We did a shortened version of the Scenic Walkway, and the views of the mine and the trees from the wooden walkway along the floor of the lush Jamison Valley were amazing. Once again, we had to queue for over 30 minutes amongst screaming babies and children, testing everyone's patience to take the Scenic Cableway back to the top. And what views did we have as we glided slowly to the top!! We were annoyed with Scenic World, the queues and the other tourists who seemed to lack social skills or spatial awareness. However, after some time, we both agreed that the whole Scenic World encounter was well worth the crowds, the queues, the screaming babies and the feral children.   This is just a small selection of our photos.   Afterwards, we took the same trail as we'd taken the day before because we had a cloudless blue sky, and we wanted to replace the photos we took beneath the cloudy skies of yesterday. When we returned to our campsite at 18:00, the sun had dropped behind the trees, as did the temperature. The weather forecast for the evening was for clear skies, light winds and a temperature of 6C. Never believe all the hype that during our English winter, it's the height of summer in Australia! This was our last night in the Blue Mountains, and we had to have our heating on all night.     4.3 The Grampians National Park 12 February 2025 Lisa: The next day, we left the coast and the Great Ocean Road behind and went inland into the mountains. Our next destination was the Grampians National Park. At the start of our journey, we'd read in the newspapers about bushfires and the severe destruction in the Grampians. We also met a couple from Belgium who told us they had to leave the Grampians National Park because the bushfire was nearing their campsite. When we enquired in one of the tourist information centres as to whether it was now, 8 weeks later, safe to visit the area, staff assured us that it was safe in the Eastern side of the Grampians, Gaps Hall, where we wanted to go. But bushfires could easily flare up again; we had to be on our guard. They urged us to download the Grampians Emergency App, which would keep us informed about the latest state of the bushfires and when and what actions to take. When we approached the Grampians, some roads leading further into the National Park's centre were closed. Our app warned of new fires in the centre of the Grampians but indicated the eastern part was still okay. This, however, could change rapidly. We had a coffee and tea in the small town of Dunkeld and then drove on. The deeper we came into the mountains, the more we could see the damage the fire had done. It was surreal driving along the road for over 40 km, through forests with blackened trees, burnt-down tree stumps and bushes. We stopped several times to take photos. We were horrified by the extent of the fire damage. Damage of the bushfire in the Grampians However, it was amazing that while you would assume everything was dead after the fire, on many trees and bushes, new green leaves were growing, new shoots and signs of life and survival. That gave us hope, and our depressed mood lifted. Nature has a habit of repairing itself. New growth - Nature has a habit of repairing itself. We arrived in the small town of Halls Gap, had another coffee, and visited the local tourist centre to explore the area and the walking opportunities. Then we set up camp in the Halls Gap NRMA Campsite. This site was okay, but the amenities were a bit dated and could do with a bit of love and tender care. The weather was great - blue sky and warm, no wind! We quickly went for a walk to make the best of the weather, as the forecast for the next day was rain. From the many available walks in the area, we chose a moderate 2 1/2 hour walk, passing by the Clemetis Waterfalls, which unfortunately did not have any water as it was the height of summer. It was already mid-afternoon, and the temperatures were in their mid-30s. So, we decided, instead of walking the whole way to Chautauqua Peak, which would take us probably another 3 hours there and back, to continue until we came to a lookout from where we had stunning views of the mountains, the lake and the river next to our campsite. Stunning views of the Grampians National Park On our campsite were many kangaroos grazing on the green grass, mainly during the night, as one could see on the many piles of kangaroo shit all over the campsite. I was aware of this, but must have overlooked a dollop on the way back from the washroom facilities as I unknowingly stepped into it with both feet. As a result, there was kangaroo shit all over the floor of our campervan. How very annoying!! This evening, we enjoyed our dinner outside, as it was warm and there was no wind. Dave:   In the morning, sea mist had drifted in and obscured the sun but quickly cleared when we drove out of town towards our next destination, Halls Gap in the Grampians. The roads were ruler straight, and we drove through a flat landscape of tall straw-coloured grass with the occasional herd of cattle or stock (as they say hereabouts) that chomped on the grass.   As we progressed further inland beneath a cloudless blue sky, the heat increased, and we could see hills in the distance. My mind wandered, and I realised one colour was missing - green. We stopped for a coffee break in a small town called Dunkeld. It is a pleasant town, if somewhat small. The young waitress who served us was from Preston, near my home town. The distant hills became the Grampians National Park. Driving into the Grampisans Nationial Park There had been a major bushfire a month or so ago, and we drove between burnt-out, decimated bushland on both sides of the road and the hills beyond for over 40km. We stopped often to record the destruction. Amazingly, some burnt-out bushes had new growth sprouting from the branches. The power of nature to renew itself was impressive to see. Warning signs inform about the fire risk in the area We arrived in the town of Halls Gap at 14:00 and stopped to check out the shops and the information centre to see what walks we could do. I bought a neoprene stubby holder for myself, and Lisa bought a boomerang as a birthday present for her brother Hans. A stubby is a bottle of beer. You put your beer in a stubby holder to stop your hand from warming the beer. Ideal for our summer BBQs.   We continued to the NRMA Halls Gap Holiday Park campsite, where we'll spend the next two nights. The amenities were okay, but as we found with other NRMA campsites, they could do with a little sprucing up. The temperature app on my phone registered 37C. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, nor even a hint of wind. At last, we had some good weather. We had a short rest and then walked towards the Chautauqua Peak. It was too late to walk all the way to the peak, but we did manage to visit the Clemetis Falls, which was bone-dry, and continued upward to a viewpoint that overlooked the town. At 37C, it was a hot walk, and we were constantly looking for snakes in the bush beside the track. The views were wonderful, and we took several photos and then walked back. As we passed the village's grassy cricket oval, where kangaroos were feasting on the grass, we had a long chat with a guy who was here for a long weekend with his son and his grandchildren. Once again, we found the friendliest of the people we met were the ones who'd emigrated to Australia as children with their parents. He was originally from Holland and was married to a woman from Scotland. The walk took three hours, and when we got back, we caught up with our photos and diaries in our air-conditioned campervan.   At 19:30, it was still 35C as we sat outside at our table, drank beer, and watched the sun go down behind the mountains. There were plenty of flying bugs, too, so we had to smother ourselves in anti-mozzie cream. We ate our microwaved corn husks outside, and the smell brought dozens of white parakeets. At first, they were cute, but after a while, they became a nuisance by begging and squawking beside our feet or watching us from the roof of our campervan. What a noise they made, especially at sunrise or sunset, as do the other flying creatures. We had to be careful when visiting the shower block of kangaroo shit, too, from their nocturnal wanderings around the campsite. There had been very few occasions when we could sit outside in the evenings during our Australian adventure, but tonight had been one of those nights. We ate our chicken Fajitas, savoured the hot, windless night and wondered when the next time we'd be able to sit outside in temperatures of 33C+. After our meal, we retired inside our air-conditioned campervan and were fast asleep by 22:00.   13 February 2025 Lisa: When we woke up, it was cool and cloudy. Such weather is good for walking but not for photography. What a difference to the day before and what a disappointment. We went on a 4-hour round walk to the Pinnacle Lookout. The Pinnacle is one of the Grampians National Park's most iconic lookout points, offering panoramic views of Halls Gap, Lake Bellfield, and the surrounding valleys and cliffs. Considering Dave's knee, we decided to do the shortened pinnacle walk instead of the longer 8 km (7-8 hours) walk and started off from the Wonderland Carpark. Our path led us through interesting rock formations called the Grand Canyon, as they were similar but on a much smaller scale. Then, we walked through Silent Street, a narrow gorge with steep steps, before we crossed a rocky area and reached the Pinnacle Lookout, from where we had fantastic panoramic views over Halls Gap and the surrounding mountains. Steep steps through the Silent Street Gorge Huge impressive rock formations The walk was enjoyable because of the rock formations and because we met many other friendly walkers and chatted along the way. They were from Switzerland, Germany, Holland, England, and France. It was an international (primarily European) atmosphere of like-minded people. We told each other stories of our travels and our experiences and even touched on the recent worldwide political changes. It was astonishing how easygoing it was to talk to each other. We often felt we were not so at ease when talking to entrenched Australians. Was it the different culture? Yet, it seemed more natural to talk to Australians who had been travelling or working in Europe or had left with their parents at a young age. We found we had something in common and were on the same wavelength. Despite talking, we looked everywhere but did not see any of the promised wildlife like kangaroos or wallabies, although one guy reported seeing a snake, which made us all look very careful where we stepped. We took many photos, and although the sky was not as blue as the day before, the views were impressive. Then, the black clouds in the sky threatened to burst, and we quickly went down the mountain and reached the campervan just before it started raining. It had stopped raining in the evening, and we were determined to stay outside for our wine and dinner, but then it turned cold, and we had to go inside. Dave: The weather had changed overnight. The wind had picked up, clouds had been gathering, and the temperature had dropped to a more reasonable 28C. We breakfasted outside and afterwards caught up with our diaries and photos. Halls Gap offers various walking trails catering to different fitness levels and interests. As we only had one day, we chose The Pinnacle Lookout, a return walk of 4.2km. It was classed as moderate to challenging and would take around four hours. Before we started the walk, the cutlery drawer kept flying open on the bends. So it was out with my multi-tool to retighten the screws. Another job done. This iconic walk began at the Wonderland Carpark. It led us through unique rock formations, such as the Grand Canyon (a smaller-scale version of the American one, which featured impressive rock walls and formations) and Silent Street (a very narrow towering gorge that added a unique charm to the walk) before reaching the Pinnacle Lookout. And what panoramic views we had from there over Halls Gap and the surrounding landscape! Stunning views from the Pinnacle Lookout over Halls Gap and surrounding landscape This walk was just one of many in the surrounding area of Halls Gap and words cannot describe the notable sites on the way up and also on the way down. The walk was challenging for my knee, especially the walk back down. As we neared the end of the walk, we noticed a few drops of rain. Ten minutes later we were back at our campsite. Today at the Pinncacle Lookout - tomorrow we move on. The clouds started to evaporate after a drop of rain, which allowed us to sit outside in the sunshine and enjoy our beer whilst having a game of dominos. There was a Dutch couple in the camper beside us, and we had a goodly natter with the lady as she made her way to the campsite kitchen. Once again, we had a starter of microwaved corn husks, followed by Fajitas and a glass of wine and by 20:30, we were tired and watched a music video in bed. Tonight, we needed no air conditioning as the temperature was 23C.   4.2 The Great Ocean Road 5th February 2025 Lisa: We set off early on Wednesday morning, shortly after 7 am, as we had a long drive before us. Our next destination was the Great Ocean Road. It would take us at least 5-6 hours. We enjoyed the drive through forest and bush, along the coast and inland, and passed yellow fields with straw and fields with grass where cows were feeding. Instead of driving back to Melbourne and getting stuck in the traffic, we followed a scenic road along the coast towards Sorrento, a charming seaside town, from where the Searoad Ferries crosses over to Queenscliff. When we drove through Sorrento which its lovely historic limestone built houses that date back to the 1860s, the period the town was built, I would have liked to stay for a while. The small town looked relaxing; it felt like a place where you would  love to spend a few days of holiday. Alas, we didn’t have time; we had a ferry to catch. We arrived  at the ferry shortly before it took off. Unfortunately, there was no more space for a vehicle of our height (3m), so we had to wait an hour for the next one. Never mind! We used the time to get a coffee and tea from the kiosk and wanted to drink it sitting on the benches outside in the sunshine. But the cold wind quickly changed our minds. So we had our drinks inside the van, protected from the wind. Dave, braving the elements. The ferry crossing was a peaceful 45-minute cruise. The sun was shining, but unfortunately, again, the cold wind made it unpleasant, and the only way to hide from it was if one went inside the boat. However, we didn't want to do that because the view of the blue sea and the blue sky was stunning. So I wrapped up warm. In Queenscliff, we continued our journey to Torquay, which is the start of the famous Great Ocean Road. Here we stocked up with essential food, wine and excellent fish. Then we drove on and arrived mid-afternoon at our destination, the Big4 Anglesey Holiday Park. It had excellent facilities. The showers were clean, and instead of a tiny shower cubicle as we had on most of the campsites we'd stayed at, one had a suite with a toilet, washing basin and a shower unit with a big area to dry yourself off. Even a heater on the ceiling was welcome in the mornings and evenings when it was chilly. The washing machines and dryers in the launderette were new and everything was clean and well looked after. What luxury! Unfortunately, we only stayed here for two days. Dave: We were up at 06:15. The night before, it was so hot we should've switched on the air conditioning. What a difference 24 hours makes. Last night, it turned cold, and we had to close all the windows and the top hatch. There was another egg problem, and the shops and supermarkets were in short supply. We had an eggless breakfast and left the campsite at 07:15. We had a long day ahead of us to reach Anglesea, where our next Big4 campsite was. We'd decided to drive to Sorrento and take the ferry across Melbourne Bay to Queenscliff. This would avoid having to drive through Melbourne. The cost of the ferry for us both and the camper was AUD 125 (£62.83), a concessionary fare for people of 'mature years'. This cost was offset by the savings we made on fuel by a shorter distance and by not using Melbourne's expensive toll roads. From Queenscliff, we drove to a vast Coles supermarket in Torquay to restock. What a fantastic supermarket this was. We bought squid tubes, large black tiger prawns, Barramundi fish, fruit, sweetcorn husks and plenty of vegetables to last us for the next 3 or 4 days. This supermarket had eggs! Next door to the supermarket was a bottle shop where we stocked up on wine and beer.   Clouds had returned during the day; even so, it was still hot. We arrived at Big4 Anglesea Holiday Park at 16:00, and our designated parking site was first class, as was the site itself. After we'd settled in, we walked into the small town, bought a set of dominos and stopped in a cafe for a well-deserved cappuccino. On our way back to the site, the clouds evaporated, and the sun appeared. At 19:30, the clouds had returned; it was cool and windy too. We drank our beers in the camper and decided to eat inside as it wasn't pleasant outside. The big black tiger prawns starter never tasted better, and so too the squid tubes in onions, tomato, and peppers smothered in garlic paste.   6th February 2025 Lisa: The next morning, wrapped up warm, we had breakfast outside, flanked by a group of cockatoos. They were cute and I tried to take some pictures of one of them drinking water from a leaking water tap. While I enthusiastically took pictures of them, a service buggy stopped outside the shower area to supply fresh towels. The driver, a member of staff, scared away two of the cockatoos that had ascended on his vehicle, calling them a pest. Only later did I understand his comments after we also experienced how persistent and pushy these birds were, constantly begging for food and making lots of noise. We explored the lovely, sleepy town of Anglesey, walked along the river, and strolled along the vast beach. Anglesey is known for its stunning beaches with beautiful coastal views, crystal clear waters and a relaxed vibe. At the beach one can find fascinating rock formations along the coastline. They consist of weathered sandstone and limestone cliffs, which have been shaped by years of wind and wave erosion. Anglesey is also known for its coastal walks. We decided to do a walk that covered several bays. We walked along the beach and returned via the cliff path, which gave us excellent views of the bay. It was fascinating and we could not get enough of it. At midday, we had a picnic with sardines and bread. At a beach cafe, we had the best cappuccino for a long time. Anglesey Beach Rock formations on Roadknight Peninsula On this day it was hot, 32C, lovely. That’s the way I like it. At the end of our beach walk, once we were back at Anglesey Beach, we went for a splash into the sea. The water was cold but refreshing and it felt good. When we got out, we let the heat of the sun dry our wet skins. In the evening, we cooked an excellent Barramundi fish and ate it outside on our table, wrapped up warm as it was getting cold again. But we were determined to sit outside. So far, we have had only a few evenings on our Australian trip where it was warm enough to have our dinner outside.  It was a wonderful relaxing day. I would have stayed there for much longer, but we had to move on to the next part of the Great Ocean Road. Dave: We both had another poor night's sleep. Maybe it was the wind that continuously battered the campervan during the night. We breakfasted outside, together with several white cockatoos chirruping in the branches of the tree above, and whilst we did, the sun appeared. Lisa took a load of washing to the onsite launderette, and whilst we waited for it to finish, we answered emails, wrote our diaries, downloaded photos and updated our travel blog. At 11:00, we set off to walk along the Anglesea river bank to the beach. We walked along the golden beach, beneath a brilliant blue sky, across the bay to Point Roadknight. We stopped and had a long natter with a guy with his drone. He was working for a government department and was mapping the coastal erosion of the area. Many people were on the beach, especially the surfers at Point Roadknight. The cliff corrosion we passed and the rock formations on the peninsula were spectacular, as was the breaking surf - another surfers' paradise. We walked around the rocky peninsula, across a sand dune, back to the bay we'd recently walked along and found a place beneath a shady tree, as the sun was so intense. We sat down on the curb to eat a lunch of tinned sardines with a slice of bread. A bit later, we came across a surfers' cafe and stopped for a welcome cappuccino. View of the Anglesey Beach from the Cliffs Point Roadknight We took the Roadknight walking track back. The dirt track kept to the cliff inside the bush, and the partial shade made a welcome relief from the sun. We took a small dirt road that led down to the beach. This was for the lifeguards in case of an emergency. We left our kit beside the three female lifeguards, went for a welcome swim, and sunbathed afterwards. I could see why Australians love the beaches so much.   In the evening, the wind had dropped, and it was a pleasure to sit outside for dinner. We had microwaved sweetcorn in its husk, smothered in butter and salt for a starter, followed by barramundi fish steaks marinated with onions, peppers and tomatoes. We were tired after a busy day and, by 21:30, were fast asleep.   7th February 2025 Lisa: This morning, we left early to drive to our next stop on the Great Ocean Road, Port Campbell. As we saw on Google Maps, our next destination was a small town with only a general store rather than a big supermarket. So, we needed to stock up on fish in Anglesey. Alas, they only had frozen or sad-looking, expensive fish in the supermarket. We bought a few black tiger prawns that looked fresh. The friendly guy at the checkout recommended we try the butcher's shop in town, as he also sold fish. When we entered the butcher's shop, the older lady behind the counter gave us a dirty look. She obviously did not like tourists. I pointed to one of the fish (a white filet) and asked what kind of fish this was. "That's a fish" was the answer. Okay, and what fish is that, pointing to small long filets? Answer: "That's a fish. They are all fish." I had to giggle. That was not the answer I was looking for. I wanted to know whether this fish had bones, where it came from, whether from Australia or Vietnam, as many of their fish do. What type of fish it was. We looked at each other and were unsure what to make of her, whether she was thick or simply rude. Then her phone rang, and she answered it. We were just about to walk out of the shop when a young lad appeared behind the counter with a big smile on his face. We bought white fish filets from him (we still don't know what fish it was) that should last us for the next few days, and he gave us a lemon for free because we had bought 20 AUD worth of fish. A lady customer, presumably to make up for the rude behaviour of the old dragon shop owner, tried to search on her phone to show me what fish we had just bought. She could not find it, so we thanked her for her efforts anyway and left the shop. The old dragon was still on her phone when we left. We continued our journey west towards Port Campbell. This was the famous Great Ocean Road, which had many viewing points to stop along the road. Unfortunately, we could not stop everywhere as we had a long way to drive to our next destination. We met lots of tourists at each stop, keen to take photographs and selfies. Each time, there was a race to the sites because of the limited parking spaces. We saw many good sites with excellent views. We stopped at the famous lighthouse at Airley's Inlet, and shortly after in Apollo Bay for coffee and a scallop pie. The road then led inland through the beautiful rainforest of the Otway National Park, and when the road came back to the coast, we stopped at Castle Cove for a sardine picnic lunch. Shortly before we arrived at Port Campbell, we stopped at the Twelve Apostles National Park Visitor Centre and admired the 'Apostles', a collection of limestone stacks of which only seven remain (one collapsed, but there were never 12; it's possibly only a nice story to attract visitors). The weather became windy and unpleasant, and we were happy when we arrived at our campsite, the NMRA Port Campbell Holiday Park, where we could warm up with a cup of tea. Again, it was too cold to have our dinner outside, but we immensely enjoyed our tiger prawns and the fish, whose species we still didn't know, with the lemon given to us by the lovely lad.   Dave: We were awake at 06:15, so we made a brew and read the latest news on our phones. We had breakfast of poached eggs, which made a welcome change from fried eggs, with the added benefit of not having to clean the frying pan afterwards as the campervan didn't have a spatula, only a large ladle. We planned where to stop on our way to our next campsite, the NRMA Port Campbell Holiday Park in the town of Port Campbell. We refuelled, emptied the toilet cassette and set off.   Australia's famous Great Ocean Road stretches 243 km along Victoria's southwest coast and is one of Australia's most iconic drives. Renowned for its breathtaking coastal scenery, lush rainforests, and dramatic limestone formations, it combines natural beauty with rich history. It was built by returned WWI soldiers between 1919 and 1932 as a war memorial. The road symbolises resilience and remembrance. The purpose of the road was to provide post-war employment and to honour the soldiers, with the project showcasing engineering feats through manual labour. We stopped many times along the spectacular, narrow, twisting road to take photos and admire the views. Many stretches of this road had been hewn out of the cliff face, and I could only imagine what courage it must've taken over 100 years ago to undertake such a task. We stopped for coffee and a delicious scallop pie in the busy tourist town of Apollo Bay and bought a wooden spatula from a small supermarket. More fried eggs for breakfast! The Great Ocean Road (GOR) progressed inland through the rainforest and emerged at Castle Cove, where we lunched on our favourite dish - tinned sardines with a slice of bread. The GOR then turned north and continued inland through the rainforest. It rejoined the coast just after Princeton, and shortly after, we stopped at the Twelve Apostles Marine National Park Visitors Centre. This was a huge car park to accommodate those who wanted to see the world-famous Twelve Apostles. It must've been world-famous because there was coach after coach of Chinese, Japanese, Indians and many other nationalities. China and Japan must've been empty, as they all seemed to be in Australia. At each and every photo opportunity, they got so close they would literally rub shoulders with us. Beside the car park was a helicopter pad with four helicopters landing and taking off. We saw Chinese and Japanese people queuing, and they paid AUD175 to take a 15-minute helicopter ride over the coast to see the 12 Apostles and many of the other equally famous landmarks. They seemed to have more money than sense because the weather was cloudy and extremely windy.   We arrived at our campsite and hooked up next to another campervan. We had a long friendly chat with the people next to us, who were originally from England. We'd met many people who originally came from the UK, and we got along well with them. Perhaps it was the English accent, as they noticed that we were English/Europeans and not Australians. The wind had increased, and it was cloudy and cool as we toured our campsite to find out where all the amenities were.           8th February 2025   Lisa: On Saturday mid-morning, we walked to the village. There was a sports event with many spectators on the beach of the bay. We went there to find out what was going on. It was the annual local sea swimming competition, where the swimmers had to swim twice all around the bay. The water was icy cold, and it was a challenging task because of the storm, the many rocks, and the incoming tide. Because of the unusually stormy conditions, the swimming route had been cut from three lapses to two. The spectators greeted every swimmer who completed the course, ran out of the surf, up the beach and crossed the finishing line with great applause. There were several groups of swimmers of various ages and abilities. The competition continued long after we left.   We had things to see: We drove back along the Great Ocean Road and admired the rock formations and bays. Pounded by wild seas and fierce winds, the soft limestone cliffs of the coast of Port Campbell National Park and the Bay of Islands Coastal Park have been eroded over thousands of years and sculptured the cliffs into rock stacks, arches, and islands. Many ships have been stranded on this rocky coastline, giving the bay the name the shipwreck coast. The area is well-organised, and the beautiful sites are accessible via walkways and viewing platforms. It was fascinating walking along the walkways above the cliffs and seeing the various formations of rocks and grottos surrounded by stormy water. Like hundreds of other tourists, we visited places such as London Bridge, the Grotto, the Bay of Martyrs and the Bay of Islands. Dave will describe in more detail the sites we visited. We then had a short break in a cafe in Peterborough to warm up before we continued to visit other sites.    Dave: I was awake at 06:15, and it had been a cool and very windy night. Thick clouds greeted us and the forecast was for much of the same throughout the day. There was a short, sharp shower as we breakfasted. After we'd written our diaries and checked emails, we took a short walk through the campsite's back gate to the beach. A yearly swimming competition was in progress between the surrounding towns' long-distance sea swimming clubs. Four markers were placed in the bay and the competition was to see who was the fastest to run through the surf, complete two circuits of the markers in the bay and then swim back through the surf and run up the beach to the finish line. The route had been shortened because of the wind, the sea swell and the outgoing tide. If you were to see the rough sea and pounding surf, you would say these people were mad. Having said that, there were 25 people on surfboards, several boats and Marshalls watching from the jetty, plus three lifeguards in the water to support them if the tide and the surf got the better of them. Brave souls indeed, and they were well supported by the crowds.   We drove further west along the Great Ocean Road and stopped at various viewing areas of famous sites within the Port Campbell National Park, London Bridge, The Grotto, and the Bay of Islands Coastal Park; Bay of Martyrs, Bay of Islands and Boat Bay. Every single one of the famous places we stopped took our breath away and were greatly enriched by the gales, the stormy seas, the dramatic colourful cliffs and the lowering skies. Afterwards, we drove back to our campsite, and it remained cold, windy and cloudy. Around 19:00, the weather turned really miserable and we had frequent spells of showery rain. Our campsite, usually busy with children racing around on bicycles and people sitting outside chatting, eating and drinking, was as quiet as a tomb.   We chose to stay for three days at the NRMA Port Campbell Holiday Park because it was an excellent base for exploring the most popular highlights of the Great Ocean Road. Here are the must-see sights that we visited:   1. Twelve Apostles (10 min drive). The most famous landmark along the Great Ocean Road, these limestone stacks rise dramatically from the ocean. Best viewed at sunrise or sunset. 2. Loch Ard Gorge (5 min drive ). A stunning cove with turquoise waters, towering cliffs, and a tragic shipwreck history. You can explore several walking trails and viewpoints and nearby is the small cemetery where they buried some of those that perished. The Story of the Loch Ard Shipwreck (1878). The Loch Ard, a three-masted clipper, sailed from England to Melbourne when it met disaster on 1st June, 1878. Three months into the voyage and just days away from its destination, the ship was caught in heavy fog near the coast. Before the crew could react, it struck a reef near Muttonbird Island, close to what is now known as Loch Ard Gorge. Of the 54 people on board, only two survived. Eva Carmichael (18), an Irish immigrant travelling with her family and Tom Pearce (18), a ship's apprentice, who managed to swim to shore and then returned to the sea to rescue Eva. Tom found shelter in a cave, later helping Eva reach safety. He eventually climbed the cliffs to seek help from a nearby homestead. Despite public hopes for a romance between the two survivors, Eva returned to Ireland, while Tom went on to a successful naval career. 3. Gibson Steps (10 min drive). Descend the 86 steps down the cliffside to the beach for an up-close view of the limestone stacks and massive cliffs. 4. London Bridge (London Arch) (10 min drive). A naturally formed rock arch that once connected to the mainland before partially collapsing in 1990. 5. The Grotto (12 min drive). A picturesque rock formation where a sinkhole meets the ocean, creating a natural rock pool. 6. The Arch (8 min drive). Another rock formation shaped by the sea, offering a great photo opportunity. 7. Bay of Martyrs & Bay of Islands (15-20 min drive). Less crowded than the Twelve Apostles but equally stunning, these coastal viewpoints showcase dramatic rock formations and endless ocean views.   Here is a selection of our photos of these sites:   9th February 2025   Lisa: It had rained at night, and the campsite was muddy. It was windy and cold, and further rain was forecast. That's not how we imagined Australia. We had dreamed of spending most of our time outdoors and having breakfast and dinners outside in the sunshine. But now we spent most of the time indoors in our little cramped campervan because it was too cold and windy to stay outside. Never mind. We are here, and we make the best of it. The day before, a lovely lady in the Port Campbell Visitor Centre suggested what was interesting to do in the area. So, this morning, Sunday, we went back to the Twelve Apostles National Park Visitor Centre and walked down the Gibson Steps to see the formation and the cliffs from the beach. We then admired the Razorback rock, whose name comes from its jagged, narrow form. After that, we explored the rock formations on the western side of Port Campbell, which is equally beautiful but less known and less visited by tourists. Afterwards, we visited the site of the Loch Ard shipwreck, whose story Dave will describe.    In preparation for this trip, we had searched for information on the Great Ocean Road and most photos showed the stunning rock formations against a bright blue sky. That is what we expected to see. Yet, what we’ve got is quite a different picture: grey skies, rain, storms, wind, and sea mist. After the first disappointment, we changed our mindset and began to photograph these famous sea stacks against the background of stormy seas, when the gales smashed the waves against the rocks, which best explains how the erosion of the twelve Apostles and other limestone rocks came about.   We were very impressed with each site and admired the colour of the rocks, the dry, wild and sturdy bush vegetation on top of the cliffs. We were also looking for wildlife but could not find any, possibly because there were too many tourists during the day. Yet, having said that, I found Dave sitting on a bench on one of the viewing platforms looking at his photos, and he had not noticed that an echidna (an Australian type of porcupine) was walking towards him. I photographed her, but when Dave moved, she quickly disappeared underneath the boards of the boardwalk.   Tomorrow, we will continue our drive west along the Great Ocean Road, which ends in Warrnambool.   Dave : There was a disco nearby, and at 01:30, the noise of drunken youths was deafening. Maybe that was the aftermath of the swimming competition? No wonder the Australian police had forbidden drinking in public places. At 07:00, there was a leaden sky, and the wind continued to blow. I woke Lisa and made a brew. It had rained overnight, and people had left or were in the process of leaving the campsite. I checked the temperature on my watch, and it was 18C, but it felt like 13C. We retraced our steps and drove off to explore the other famous sites to the east of Port Campbell: Gibson Steps, Lock Ard Gorge and the cemetery where they buried some that perished in the shipwreck. From there, we drove back to Port Campbell and found a coffee shop for a cuppa and a meat pie. Delicious! Afterwards, we drove to Timboon, a small inland town. The wind continued to blow, and the sky threatened rain as we walked around exploring the town. There had been a farmers market, but when we arrived it had just ended. We got back to the campsite at 16:00. The site was almost deserted as most people had come for the weekend. The weather improved, and the rain eased off, but the wind continued to blow. The internet was still down on the campsite as it was for the whole town.     10th February 2025 Lisa: We had an early start as we wanted to get to our next destination, Port Fairy, where the weather forecast predicted sunshine and a temperature of 25C. That sounded much better than the 18C (but felt 13C) in Port Campbell. We quickly wanted to get away from the bad weather and from this campsite, which was muddy and neglected. We stocked up at a big supermarket in Warrnambool, just after the Great Ocean Road ended at Allansford, and it was still cold and windy when we drove on. When we approached Port Fairy, the sun came out, and we entered a charming little coastal town. It has stunning beaches, rugged cliffs and a relaxing atmosphere. The town centre has beautiful historic buildings dating back to the 19th century. We strolled along the main streets, which have many shops and cafes. We had tea and coffee in the old Bakehouse, famous for its scallop pies. They were delicious. Then we made our way to the campsite, which was much nicer than that in Port Campbell. The shower and toilet areas may have been dated, but were pleasant and clean. We immediately felt at home. Unfortunately, it was still very windy, but at least the sun was out. We went for a drive to explore the area and walked along a coastal path on Griffith Island, a popular spot for nature lovers and known for its walking trails, stunning views of the surrounding coastline and historic lighthouse. We accessed the island via a causeway and walked along the coastal path over black rocks and sandy beaches to the lighthouse, which had been built in 1859 and is still operational today. We walked around it and enjoyed the views. It was sunny but very windy, so we did not linger for long. We returned to our campsite, and after dinner, I persuaded Dave to play a game of dominos, which I had bought in a shop in Anglesey a few days ago. He won; every time. That's annoying. I have to practice to win. Dave: The wind had dropped a little overnight, but it was still overcast. At 08:15, we drove out of the campsite towards our next destination, the Big4 Port Fairy Holiday Park in Port Fairy. It was as though a weight had been lifted from our shoulders as the campsite, which had seen better days, had a depressed air about it, which wasn't helped by the gloomy weather. We drove through Peterborough toward Warrnambool, where we stopped just before 10:00 at a Coles supermarket in a large shopping centre to restock. We were counting down the days before we dropped off the campervan at the Apollo depot in Sydney and estimated what we would need. Too little and we'd be thirsty and hungry; too much and we'd have to throw it away. We'd booked two more campsites, but there was no guarantee they would have general stores, nor in the nearby towns.   We continued through a monotonous, lifeless landscape on roads as straight as rulers beneath a cloudy sky. We drove into Port Fairy to get an overview of the town, and as we did, the sun appeared - a good omen. We parked on the main street to explore and check out the town's IGA supermarket and were impressed with it. We asked if they sold scallop pies, and they didn't, but the lady we asked told us who sold them - the old Bakehouse around the corner and also added that they were the best in the world. Quite a statement. We sat at an outdoor table and ordered their 'best in the world' scallop pies and cups of tea and coffee. Yes, they were very good indeed. We drove to our campsite, checked in and set up camp. What a difference between this camp and our last one. We were back to a landscape of green open spaces and clean facilities. It is a very well-run campsite indeed. After a short rest, we drove back into town beneath a blue cloudless sky and parked by the jetty. The map we were given at our campsite reception showed a 3km walk around a small island, which also featured a lighthouse. The island was called Griffith Island and was home to a colony of short-tailed shearwater birds, also known as mutton birds by the whalers who frequented this island years ago. They called them mutton birds because of their meat and oil. This was the birds' breeding season, and we had to keep to the dirt path. In parts, we had to walk along sandy beaches and small coves - thankfully, the sea was at low tide. It was a wonderful walk, albeit bracing, as the gale-force wind was so strong we couldn't wear our sun hats for fear of losing them. The island was also partially protected by black reefs, which produced tremendous waves as the surf crashed into them. When we got back to the campsite, we completed our daily tasks of diaries and photos. Afterwards, Lisa cooked the black tiger prawns and ling fish fillets we'd bought from Coles supermarket. Delicious!   Dinner is ready! 11th February 2025 Lisa: We woke up to a beautiful day with sunshine; even the wind had dropped. After breakfast, we went back into town. During our time in Australia, we had good experiences with the staff in Tourist Information Centres. They know their area and are always keen to offer information and recommendations. So in Port Fairy, too. Equipped with maps and a list of recommendations, we left the centre and explored the little town and its beaches. Unfortunately, we missed their annual Jazz Festival, which happened over the last weekend. It was one of the few days during our trip when the sun was shining, and it was warm and not too windy. Therefore, after walking around town a bit, we opted to spend the afternoon on the beach. The lighthouse at Griffith Islands We found a beautiful little sheltered beach with the wonderful name of Pea Soup Beach, and here we settled for a few hours. We took in the sun and the warmth and splashed in the water. The water was not very deep, and swimming was limited, but we immensely enjoyed our time there. Soon, it was time to go back. We walked around the beautiful Griffith Island one last time, visited the lighthouse, and afterwards returned to the campsite. Dave: I woke at 06:45 and Lisa shortly after. Lisa put a load of washing in the campsite's washing machine whilst I prepared breakfast. There was less wind today; it was warmer, and the sun shone out of a cloudless sky. We drove to the Tourist Information Centre to see what was on offer and afterwards shared a scallop pie in the Bakehouse, together with a brew. There are four Pea Soup beaches in town to choose from, and we chose Pea Soup Beach number 1. This was a sheltered beach and protected by the dark rocky reefs. We spent a few hours swimming and sunbathing until 15:30. This was our last afternoon in Port Fairy, and we decided to walk around Griffiths Island to visit the lighthouse one last time. The colony of short-tailed shearwater must've been nearing the time of migration, for they were very active. The 3km walk around the island was wonderful, especially as the wind had dropped and the views of the blue sky and the Southern Ocean breakers crashing against the black reefs took your breath away. Yes, it's a town you'd want to return to.   4.1. Wilsons Prom National Park   31 January 2025   Lisa: The journey back to Melbourne was not as smooth as we'd expected. We had a few arguments with the Airline, Jetstar. We had booked, via Trailfinders, an economy return flight from Melbourne to Hobart. On the way out with Virgin Airways, there were no problems, but the rules had changed on the way back with Jetstar. They allowed only 7 kg of hand luggage and were adamant about it. This was a problem for us, as our hand luggage was 8.5kg (me) and 10.5kg (Dave). We wore everything we could, like hats, scarves, earphones, and jackets. However, we were still over the limit with our expensive camera gear, lithium battery packs, and cables. Our point of argument was that you are not allowed to put Lithium batteries into the hold luggage, and we did not want to have our cameras thrown around in the hold. We had purchased 20kg of luggage space in the hold with our tickets, which we had not used up. (I had 14 kg and Dave 16.8 kg.) All negotiations and arguments did not help. We had to pay AUD 150 (£75) for the two of us. It was not a great amount; even so, we felt cheated, as there was no problem on the flight to Hobart. We felt this was not a friendly, relaxed sign of Australian hospitality. Did I see a sign of satisfaction on the Jetstar lady's face when I handed her our card to pay? Yes! That's the problem sometimes when you book a cheap flight. Not so cheap after all. That evening, we commiserated with an excellent Barramundi fish dinner and a bottle of Australian red Shiraz at our Holiday Inn airport hotel in Melbourne.   1 February 2025   Dave: After an excellent breakfast in the hotel, I ordered an Uber taxi for 09:15, and by 09:30, we were dropped off at Melbourne's Apollo campervan depot. There was a queue at the check-in desk. We completed all the necessary paperwork with the very efficient manager. We explained the problems we had experienced in Tasmania, and he refunded us a day's campervan hire and apologised that he couldn't do more. There was another wait whilst they washed and checked our campervan since we'd so many problems with our previous one. Great. At 11:30, our campervan was ready and waiting for us outside. We went to inspect it, but there was a problem. This campervan was 7m long. We insisted on a 5m campervan, as that was the one we'd ordered way back in the summer. The smaller one was more manageable and easier to park in supermarket carparks, and Lisa would feel uncomfortable driving the bigger campervan. They didn't have the smaller 5m van. Several phone calls were made; it took another two hours before they sourced one. We drove away at 13:30 and had to stop to refuel, as our package was to start with a full fuel tank and return with an empty one - another delay. We kept the receipt and will get a refund when we return the campervan to the Appollo depot in Sydney.   We relied on our TomTom to guide us through Melbourne to our next destination: Big4 Wilsons Prom Holiday Park. As we drove through Melbourne, there were many toll roads, and the traffic was horrendous. There was an accident on the motorway, and the traffic ground to a halt. We inched along and saw many ambulances, fire engines and police cars. An Apollo campervan had smashed into a car. The front nearside of the campervan had taken the full force of the impact, and the driver's side of the car it had hit had been pushed in. We immediately thought of the people in front of us at the Apollo Depot who'd just driven off in similar campervans. Shortly after, Lisa found a Coles Supermarket on her mobile, so we took a short detour and stocked up with some excellent fish, vegetables and wine from the adjacent bottle shop. We arrived at the campsite at 18:15, and it was very windy. It had gone 20:00 by the time we'd hooked up, unpacked our cases, and put away our supplies. We drank a beer and cooked a starter of microwaved corn cob husks, followed by black tiger prawns and pink ling fish. That really hit the spot after a very busy and tiring day. We watched a music video and, at 22:15, were fast a sleep.     Lisa: This campervan they gave us was 7m long and would stick out everywhere we parked it. I would not be comfortable driving such a big monster around the small roads of the National Parks. The lovely people at Apollo thought they were doing us a favour and that we would be pleased about the upgrade and having more space in the van; they could not understand that we did not want it. We insisted that we wanted what we had ordered - a 5m long mini campervan. But, they did not have one amongst the long row of campervans parked outside. Unbelievable! Amongst the fleet of campervans was no Apollo mini to find? The staff frantically searched, phoned, and emailed to find such a campervan. Eventually, after 2 hours, they found one. There was no time to wash it, so we took it as it was and quickly drove off as we were running out of time and still had another four hours of driving to reach our next destination. It was a high miler, rattling, and, as we realised later, had a few faults, and some things did not work. But there was no way of us complaining, as this was the size of campervan we'd originally ordered.   It took a long time to get out of Melbourne and fight through traffic jams in the city and on the motorway as it was a weekend. I phoned the campsite to inform them that we were running late. No problems. After paying the remaining fee per phone, they gave me instructions on the site's access codes and facilities. We arrived shortly after 6 pm at the Big4 Wilsons Prom Holiday Park. It was very windy, and it had just started to rain. Our site was directly on the beach. In the safety of our campervan, we could see the surfers sailing up and down the waves, enjoying the gales and the rain. Weird people, these Australians.     2 February 2025   Lisa: The next morning, it stopped raining, and we had breakfast outside, gazing over the bay. Eating outside was a rare occasion for us as it was often too cold or windy. After breakfast, we explored the area and walked through a forest trail to Duck Point. The 20 or so dark birds we saw in the distance did not look like ducks. They elegantly held their heads high, and as we came nearer, it turned out they were black swans gliding through the waves - no sight of any ducks at Duck Point.   In the early afternoon, the sun came out, and it was hot. We drove into the Wilsons Prom National Park and into the Tidal River Area. The drive was incredible, leading through kilometres of bushland and gentle hills. From there, one can take many walks around the National Park. We went to the Tidal River Caravan Park. The caravan site was busy and fully booked. We were glad we had not chosen this site beside the Tidal River, which was the only campsite within the National Park. The campsite had 484 sites and was packed with huge pickups, huge caravans and huge campervans. Monster cars. Can they get much bigger? As we heard later, the Australian Government had only recently decided to waive the fees for all national parks in mainland Australia until June. So, many people took the opportunity to explore the National Parks on weekends and holidays, and staff in these parks, shops, and restaurants were overwhelmed by the number of visitors and could hardly cope. At the dump point, we had to wait to be able to use the water hose to rinse our toilet cassette as the only water source was hogged by a group of young Australians with what looked like an expensive deepsea fishing boat who cleaned their boat and gutted their recently caught fish with the water running on full. Have you never heard of using water responsibly? I mumbled under my breath. As this is the height of summer in Australia, most campsites display signs asking everyone to please save water as water is scarce and to stick to a maximum of three minutes when showering. Never mind. After 10 minutes of waiting, Dave got impatient and asked to use their hose for a second. Reluctantly, they handed it over.   At the Tidal River Information Centre, we collected information about the various walks we could do over the next few days. We wanted to buy a bottle of water in their general store, but the price of AUD 8 for a 500ml bottle put us off. Not that we couldn't afford it, but it was the principle. Yes, we are tourists, but didn't want to be ripped off. In the General Store in the village of Yanakie near our campsite, the litre bottle of water only cost AUD 1.50. On the way back, we stopped at a few viewing points and admired the stunning views of the various bays, which had blue water and an even bluer sky. At one of the viewing points, we met again the Indian family that had invited us earlier and generously shared their lunch with us. We then drove home and cooked the delicious fish we'd bought on the way down from Melbourne.  Baramundi Fish - yummy.   Dave: The wind had dropped when we woke, the sea was calm and we could see in the distance sea fog. We showered, caught up with our diaries and had breakfast beside our campervan, looking out at the distant mountains on the other side of the bay. We took a short walk through the bush, which brought us out by the beach, from there we walked to the end of a small sandy peninsula and then back along the beach. At the tip of the peninsula, we talked to a couple out walking their dog. They were originally from England, and we had a good natter to them. It was wonderful to be out walking again. It was hot, and there were extreme heat warning alerts and a big sign on their reception door to tell us the Government had issued warnings of bushfires, so no fires were allowed on the campsite. At 13:45, we drove down to Wilsons Prom National Park to check out the walks in the area and to find out where their 'Dump Ezy' station was, as our campsite didn't have one for some reason. To empty our toilet cassette, we had to drive 26km to this one or to the town of Foster, the same distance to the north. There was a huge campsite in Tidal River, and it was fully booked. It was such a big site, they even had an outdoor cinema. This was a major area for walking, and it was very hot. We were amazed at all the many young girls who walked around with full makeup, false eyelashes and skimpy bikinis. I don't think they'd been out walking the trails. We checked out the campsite's only general store to see if they sold fish. They had none. They had crazy prices for everything. What a joke!   An Indian family was sitting at a bench beneath a covered area, having lunch that smelled delicious. They saw us looking at them, invited us over and offered us small plates of Indian lamb curry and chicken. They were originally from Mumbai. We couldn't resist, and it was delicious. It reminded us of our time in Pune. We thanked them and left them to their delicious picnic. Shortly afterwards, we drove back and stopped at one of the many viewing platforms beside the road. Who should be there but this Indian family? Their young children sat in the cars looking at their phones whilst the parents and grandparents took in the views. The Granny was so pleased when we thanked her again for the delicious curry. When we returned, we showered, had a cold beer, and cooked another delicious fish meal.   Enjoying the warm evening   3 February 2025   Lisa: The following day, we woke up looking at a lovely dawn through our van window. It soon clouded over but was still warm. We decided to explore the nearby towns and villages. In the nearby town of Foster, we went to the tourist information centre and let them inspire us what to do. The ever so friendly staff recommended their favourite places to visit, which is what we did. We drove through dry bush areas along the beaches of Yanakie, walked over the rocks of the Walkerville Bay, strolled to the Cape Liptrap Lighthouse in the Cape Liptrap Coastal Park and stopped at many lookout points to have a view of the many bays with their distinctive vegetation and landscape within the Wilsons Prom National Park. On the horizon, we could see dark rain clouds approaching, and from time to time, we could feel a slight drizzle, but the weather held. It was a very relaxing day.   The Cape Liptrap Lighthouse Dave: There was a wonderful sunrise, and we took photos of it from the open window. We decided to do the same bush-beach walk as yesterday. Afterwards, we showered and cooked breakfast, eating inside because of the many flies. The clouds had returned, but it was still hot. We drove to Fish Creek but didn't stop as there was nothing interesting. We continued onward to the town of Foster. It was a lovely town and one of those towns that felt just right. We found a supermarket and topped up our supplies and then found a lovely cafe opposite for an iced Vietnamese coffee (normal iced coffee, but with the addition of condensed milk) for me and for Lisa a pot of tea. We went to an information bureau to find out what we could do in the area. We then drove to Walkerville to find the famous Lime Kilns. We couldn't find them and only found a not-very-picturesque rocky beach. We then drove to Cape Liptrap lighthouse. This 9km drive along a dirt road brought back memories of Namibia and the rough washboard dirt roads. The side door kept springing open onto the safety latch, but when it did, a buzzer alarm sounded. This happened numerous times during the drive. When we got to the lighthouse car park, I got out my multitool pocket tool kit and adjusted the door during a shower of rain. The views of the sea and the gathering storm from the lighthouse were fantastic, and we took many photos. At the Cape Liptrap Costal Walk Despite the showers, the temperature was 33C. We continued onwards to Sandy Point, a long sandy surfer's beach. We checked our compasses, and due south from here was Burnie, the place we drove through on the northern coast of Tasmanian. We took a shortcut back, refuelled in Yanakie, and got back to the campsite at 17:45. We showered and were glad it was windy, for the wind kept the flies away. We wrote our diaries and travel blog, had broccolini followed by fish for dinner and were fast asleep by 22:15.      4 February 2025   Lisa: Again, we woke up to a stunning sunrise and went for a walk through the bush and back along the beach, and again, it clouded over. Waking up to a stunning sunrise We drove down to the Tidal River and from there up the hill to the car park, the starting point of a 3-hour round walk to the top of Oberon Mountain. The car park was packed, and one car was already waiting for early walkers to return and free up parking space. It was our neighbour from the campsite. He finally gave up waiting and decided to return later and do something else. We continued to wait and had an unpleasant encounter with an Australian family who snitched a parking space freed up just when they arrived. Anyway, we then moved some red traffic cones by half a metre so we had enough space to squeeze our campervan in, although we were parked outside the dedicated parking spaces. Later, when we returned, many more had followed our example, moved the red cones, and parked all along the road towards the car park. No problem. We then started our steep uphill walk through the rain forest towards the top of the mountain. It was a hot and sticky day, and we were glad to walk in the shade occasionally. The many persistent and big flies were irritating, and we constantly flapped our hats to scare them away. I got bitten several times, and the bites itched horribly. These flies are called March flies. But they were early, and only a few. Imagine how it would be in March at their high season. Finally, we reached the top and were rewarded with fantastic views. Many people were sitting on rocks enjoying the view, and it felt good after a strenuous walk. The way back was quicker; luckily, Dave's knee held out well. Stunning views from Mount Oberon in the Wilsons Prom National Park   We then drove along the long winding road through the National Park, visited some more viewing points, and had a picnic in one of the outlooks, which had a fantastic view over the bay and Bass Strait. Afterwards, we went to the Squeaky Beach (named so because when you walk on them, the shoes make a squeaky noise). This beach is supposed to be one of the best beaches in Australia, and the bay is striking with a long golden sandy beach. Quite a few people were in the water, splashing in the waves. The sun had come out, and it was hot. Lovely! We also went into the water. It was cold but very refreshing, and it felt good. That's what we were hoping for in Australia. Later in the evening, the wind came up, and it got colder again. The short summer was over.     Dave: We had a poor night's sleep, maybe because it was too hot in the campervan. We stuck to our early morning routine: a walk through the bush and return via the beach. We decided to take the most popular walk in the park, a walk to the summit of Mount Oberon. We set off around 10:00 and arrived 30 minutes later at the Mount Oberon car park. The car park was full, and we waited for a space. 10 minutes later, a utility vehicle arrived at the same time as a couple who had returned from their walk to the summit. As they started to drive toward the now free parking space, I said we were here first; the lady in the passenger seat simply smiled and moved into the space the car had just driven out of. That's Australian hospitality for you. The Grade 4 hike to the summit of Mount Oberon was a steady uphill climb, and the complete circuit of 8km took about 3 hours. This hike is the highlight of Wilsons Promontory National Park, and the panoramic costal views are something to die for. From the summit, you have vistas of the Tasman Sea, the offshore islands and the park's mixture of bush and forest clinging to the sides of the steep surrounding hills. Relaxing after a steep walk to the summit of Mount Oberon It was indeed a steady, sweaty slog to the top, but the stupendous views were well worth the effort. It was amazing to see how many people could cram onto the top of the boulders, taking photos of the views. The last part of the climb was a scramble between huge rocks and boulders. We started the hike beneath a cloudy sky, and when we reached the summit, we were bathed in sunshine. When we returned, we drove to Squeaky Beach, so named for your shoes squeaked as you walked across the sand. We spent over an hour on the beach sunbathing and trying to swim in the relentless pounding surf. We would've loved to stay on the beach longer, but we had to be careful of the fierce afternoon sun on our delicate white skin. The conditions were perfect - sun, sea and lazing on the beach. We finally felt that this was the Australia that we'd visualised. When we returned to the site we had to clean our towels and rucksacks and dry our sandals as a huge wave had come in whilst we were sunbathing and drenched them. We showered and wrote our diaries, and whilst we did, the clouds rolled in, and the wind picked up. When we removed the 13amp plug of our kettle from one of the upside-down power sockets, it was covered in sticky maple syrup. We investigated and found the shelf directly above the power-socket was covered in maple syrup. The previous people who'd rented the campervan must've spilt a jar of syrup and not cleaned it up properly. The 35C+ heat had caused the syrup to melt and run down the cable and into the power-socket. Lisa cleaned it up, and for the moment, it was okay. Another thing to report when we return the camper in Sydney. We ate inside our camper as it was too cold and windy to eat outdoors.

21st October until 5th November 2023 For a long time, we wanted to see Vietnam. Dave had been in 1992, shortly after Vietnam was opened to tourists. Lisa has never been. Finally, we decided on an organised tour by Explore called "Inside Vietnam". We have travelled with the Explore travel company several times before. They are usually well-organised, and so far, we had mostly luck with our fellow travellers. The tour of 15 days is packed with sights and activities, and we will be very busy. We plan to write in this blog about some of our many experiences, and we hope we will have time to do so. If not, don't despair; we will continue and finish the travel blog once we are back home. Below is a map of Vietnam (in red) with the surrounding countries, such as China, Laos, Cambodia and Thailand. We will start in Hanoi and travel via Halang, Hue and Danang to Hoi An. From there, we will go to Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon), where we will visit the Mekong Delta and the Cu Chi Tunnels, among others. There is a lot to see. But more about that once we are there. Trip Overview: Inside Vietnam Our tour "Inside Vietnam", organised by the tour operator "Explore", offers a varied programme with a variety of activities. It promises trips to spectacular landscapes. We will learn about Vietnam's ancient and modern history and rich culture, as well as its colonial influences. And, of course, Vietnamese food is a theme, as well as meetings with Vietnamese people. We will also visit many memorials or sites of the Vietnam War. Visiting sites associated with the Vietnam War has become a profitable part of the Vietnamese tourism industry. Some call it "dark tourism" and argue that it is voyeuristic and inappropriate for tourists to visit war sites where tragedies took place and for local businesses to make money from it. So the question is: why do people want to visit these sites? More so, why do we want to see these sites? For our generation, the Vietnam War is a special war. It was the first war the US lost, which dramatically changed the perception of America as a superpower. It was also the first war in which the media exposed wartime atrocities and government lies, fundamentally shifting public opinion not only about the war. Out of the confrontation with the horrors and futility of the Vietnam War emerged the anti-war movement of the youth of the time, or rather, the peace movement. "Make Love, not war!" was the anti-war slogan. It is, therefore, fair to say that the Vietnam War and the protests against it have shaped our generation. We want to visit these memorials and war sites to understand what happened in Vietnam at that time. We expect a respectful and informative tour that deals with contemporary history and is not oriented towards sensationalism. Our interest is to use the knowledge and insights about the past also for the assessment or understanding of current events. Some background information on Vietnam The long shape of Vietnam is determined by its natural borders. To the east is the South China Sea, and to the northwest and west are the mountains that separate the country from its neighbours, Laos and Cambodia. Vietnam's long shape is often referred to as the "bamboo with two rice bowls", whereby the two fertile lowland regions, the Red River Delta in the North and the Mekong Delta in the South, are the rice bowls and the thin area in between is the stick of bamboo carrying the two rice bowls. This refers to how goods such as food or water are traditionally carried. Vietnam's Fight for Independence Our guidebook states: "The Chinese, the French, the Japanese and later even the mightiest power on earth, the USA – all staked claims of various kinds on the small nation in Southeast Asia. And all their exertions ultimately ended in defeat and enforced retreat." This means, throughout its history, Vietnam was fighting for its independence from the Chinese, the French, the Japanese and later the US. I wanted to know more about Vietnam's challenging history beyond the infamous Vietnam War. Without wishing to go into too much detail, I summarise here some key issues I found for those interested. In the early 19th Century, Vietnam faced claims to power from two foreign rivals, China and France. In the mid-19th Century, France occupied all of Indochina (Cambodia, Laos and Vietnam). Vietnam was split into three parts: the Colony of Cochichina in the South, the Annamprotectorate in the Centra and Tonkin in the North. In the 20th Century, an anti-colonial movement began, initiated by the educated upper class, whose sons and daughters went to schools in France. During the Second World War, the Japanese occupied the country from 1940 but still tolerated the French administration. Japan finally, in 1945, granted independence to Vietnam. The Japanese disarmed the French colonial army and put Nguyen Emperor Bao Dai in charge to rule under their supervision. At the same time, Ho Chi Minh called for an armed revolt for Vietnam's independence. On 02 September 1945, he proclaimed the nation's independence. The Democratic Republic of Vietnam was born. BaoDai had to surrender, and for the first time, Vietnam held democratic elections in January 1946. The First Indochina War Even though France had officially recognised the independence of Vietnam, they occupied Saigon and Hanoi shortly afterwards. In November 1946, the First Indochina War between France and Vietnam began, which should last several years. Ho Chi Minh's Government was forced underground, and in 1948, the former emperor, Bao Dai, was reinstated by the French as regent of the formally independent state of Vietnam. This basically colonial conflict was heavily overshadowed by the Cold War: China and Russia supported the North with weapons and recognised its Government as legitimate. The Western states sided with France and its marionette leader, Bao Dai. The French army was unsuccessful; in the decisive Battle of Dien Bien Phu in 1954, the Vietnamese People's Army defeated the French troops. At the "Geneva Conference" in Paris in April 1954, the different sides of the war, as well as the neighbouring countries Laos and Cambodia and the four world powers (the US, the Soviet Union, China and Great Britain) met to determine the future of the country. The decision was taken to have a provisional demarcation line at Dang Ha to divide the country up provisionally until an all-Vietnam election planned for July 1956. But Dong Ha became a permanent border for the next 21 years. In the North, under Ho Chi Minh, the communists ruled their separate part of the country from the capital, Hanoi. The urban and rural family businesses were put under state control. Those in power cleansed the North of the country, and alleged traitors were denunciated and executed. As a result, about 1 Million North Vietnamese fled to the South. In addition, the rigorously enforced land reform in 1955/56 increased the insecurity among the population and led to uprisings in the North. In the South, Saigon was proclaimed the Capital of the pro-West Republic of South Vietnam in 1955. The anti-communist and Catholic Ngo Dinh Diem became head of state. He cancelled the planned All-Vietnamese elections in 1956 and declared himself President. South Vietnam and the US never signed the Geneva Conference agreement. The French Army left South Vietnam in 1956. From the mid-50s, the US sent military help and advisors to South Vietnam to resolve the conflict between North and South in favour of the pro-Western South. Meanwhile, the South Vietnamese Government transformed into a dictatorship that targeted Buddhists, other religious groups and political dissidents with ruthless violence. In 1963, Buddhist monks publicly self-immolated, and South Vietnamese students demonstrated in the streets. More information. https://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/videos/news/burning-monk-vietnamese-monk-who-immolated-himself-against-ngo-dinh-diem/videoshow/69729654.cms The Vietnam War (the Second Indochina War) The Vietcong (Vietnamese Communists) was a guerrilla organisation in the South and had been part of the resistance since 1956. The South Vietnamese opposition, politically persecuted and driven underground, founded the National Liberation Front (NFL, with support from the Communists in Hanoi. From the early 60s onwards, the US sent increasing numbers of military advisors to South Vietnam as they feared that a Communist victory in Vietnam would cause a domino effect in the neighbouring countries. In 1963, after several failed attempted coups, the military removed Ngo Dinh Diem as President, supported by the CIA and President John F. Kennedy. The so-called Gulf of Tonkin Incident is considered the official cause of the Vietnam War, the Second Indochina War. In August 1964, the US destroyer "Maddox" engaged in a gun battle with two torpedo boats off the North Vietnam coast. Later investigations revealed that the Maddox had been involved in a secret manoeuvre with the South Vietnamese navy. US President Johnson used this incident as a pretext for sending reinforcement troops to South Vietnam and ordering the bombing of North Vietnam, with the approval of Congress. The Americans never officially declared war on North Vietnam. The task force "Operation Rolling Thunder" was the starting point for the US entry into North Vietnam. In March 1965, 25,000 Soldiers went on land in the area of Da Nang. In the following years, their number rose to half a million. The US military aimed to drive with their state-of-the-art weaponry the Communist soldiers out of South Vietnam and defeat the North. Yet, the Vietcong used guerilla tactics against US troops, partly supported by the rural population. The South Vietnam government had lost the sympathy of many farmers due to their repressive governance. To disrupt the support of the Vietcong by the South Vietnamese rural population, many of them were relocated to the cities or fortified villages. The South Vietnamese underground fighters (called Charlie by the Americans) inflicted losses on the American soldiers through landmines, tiger traps, surprise attacks and acts of sabotage. The tunnels of Cu Chi helped the Vietcong to become virtually invisible. These tunnels are today open to the public. During the day, the US troops seemed to prevail, but during the night, the Vietcong fought back and was able to strike severe blows. However, a victory by the Communist guerillas was not possible because of the superiority of the Americans, South Vietnamese and soldiers from other allied nations. To end this military stand-off, the US Army Chief of Staff, General Westmoreland, even called for the use of nuclear weapons. Instead, he ordered Agent Orange, a chemical pesticide containing dioxins, to spread widely over vast areas. The favourite target of these defoliation operations was the so-called Ho Chi Minh Trail, a 16,000km long heavily branched network of trails that partly crossed over to Laos and Cambodia. The US forces also dropped napalm and conventional bombs on these paths to disrupt the military supply from the North to the South. A turning point of the war was the Tet Offensive. On 31 January 1968, the Vietnamese New Year's Day, called Tet, despite the agreed ceasefire, the fighters of Ho Chin Minh and the Vietcong attacked the positions of the American and South Vietnamese forces. Although the Tet Offensive was not a success, as the Vietcong and Ho Chi Minh's fighters suffered severe losses, public opinion in the US on the Vietnam War changed. The news reports proved that the American war propaganda about the near end of the war was all but lies, and the pictures came as a shock. The anti-war movement in America and Western Europe grew exponentially. In the same year, President Johnson announced official peace negotiations that began in May 1968 in Paris; despite the ceasefire, a condition for the talks, only lasted a short while. The End of the War Despite the peace talks and secret negotiations, the war continued for several years with heavy bombings of Hanoi. On the 27th of January 1973, the opponents signed the Paris Peace Accords that ended the war and guaranteed the withdrawal of the US forces. However, a national reconciliation was far away. After the US military troops withdrew, the North Vietnamese Government pushed for victory over the South. In early 1975, they launched a large-scale attack. Thousands of South Vietnamese soldiers fled when the North Vietnamese troops closed on Saigon. President Nguyen stepped down and fled to Great Britain. On the 30th of April 1975, the North Vietnamese and Communist troops marched into Saigon and conquered the presidential palace with no resistance offered by the South Vietnamese troops. The Republic of South Vietnam surrendered unconditionally. The outcome of the war was horrendous. The whole country was bombed to the ground; its infrastructure was destroyed. Hundreds of thousands were injured or disabled. 10 Million homeless refugees and former soldiers strayed around the devastated country. Much of the country's wildlife and its forests were destroyed through the use of 80 million litres of defoliant by the US military. Numerous deformities of newborns in Vietnam can be traced back to the excessive contamination by Agent Orange. Dioxins have a long-term effect on the food chain, and years after the war ended, they are cited as the cause of multiple cancers. Reunification The first Vietnamese elections took place in April 1976 and were won by the Communists. North and South were reunited when, on 2 July 1976, the Socialist Republic of Vietnam (SRV) was founded, with Hanoi as the capital. Ho Chi Minh, who had died in 1969, did not live to see this victory. The reunification was accompanied by a rigorous takeover, restructuring and cleanup of the capitalist South. The country's economy and agriculture were nationalised. Intellectuals and political opponents were persecuted and put in so-called re-education camps. Religious freedom was seriously restricted. The changes were severe and led to the largest flood of refugees at these times. About 2 million people, mainly ethnic Chinese well-to-do business people, for whom there was no place in a communist system, fled Vietnam between 1975 and 1990, mainly as boat people across the China Sea. In foreign political terms, Vietnam's Government moved closer towards the Soviet Union, to the displeasure of the Chinese allies, who stopped their aid in 1978. Present-day Vietnam The country found itself after the war in a difficult situation. Its infrastructure and industry were destroyed; the region had suffered natural catastrophes, huge military costs, inflation and China's decision to stop the aid, all exacerbated by an international embargo, the flight of educated parts of the population and increasing corruption. No wonder the collapse of the Vietnamese economy was imminent. Profound reforms were inevitable. At the Sixth National Party Congress in 1986, far-reaching economic reforms were enacted. The political rulers opted for decentralisation and market economics. However, a consistent implementation did not take place. After another famine in the North at the beginning of 1988, the Government abolished the agricultural cooperatives for good. Farmers were allowed to lease land and sell their goods independently. During the 1990s, a new political generation came to power, replacing the old Communist regime with a "renovation of thinking". Finally, the new constitution of 1992 guaranteed the right to private property. On February 3, 1994, President Bill Clinton ordered the lifting of the US trade embargo on Vietnam. Three years later, in 1997, the Vietnamese Government agreed to pay the debts of the South Vietnamese Government of about $140 million to be allowed to trade with the US. Following this, trade volumes boomed between the two countries. Also, in 1997, Clinton appointed former POW and US Congressman Pete Peterson as the first US Ambassador to Vietnam since 1975. President of the United States, Bill Clinton, made a historic visit to Vietnam in November 2000. He was the first US leader ever to visit Hanoi officially and the first to visit Vietnam since US troops withdrew from the country in 1975. [ Since the substantial economic reforms and the lifting of the US embargo, the country's economy has flourished with a double-figure growth rate. The country turned away from strongly supported heavy industry and again embraced the typical Vietnamese agricultural industries. Vietnam is now one of the biggest exporters of rice worldwide. The country successfully attracted foreign capital because of its enormous oil deposits, liberal laws, and a highly motivated workforce with low wages. In recent years, the economy has shifted from a mainly agricultural focus to a service economy, whereby tourism plays an increasingly significant role. Sources: https://www.britannica.com/event/Vietnam-War https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vietnam_War https://www.history.com/topics/vietnam-war/vietnam-war-history Vietnam. Marco Polo Handbuch. Marco Polo Travel Publishing Ltd. 2019. Here, you can test your knowledge about the Vietnam War: https://www.britannica.com/quiz/pop-quiz-19-things-to-know-about-the-vietnam-war Media coverage changed the war In no other war, the uncensored media coverage had such an impact, entirely different from what the American military strategists had planned. For example, reports about the My Lai Massacre on 16 March 1968 changed public opinion for good. In a 90-minute search and destroy operation, US soldiers killed 504 villagers: elderly, women and children. More information is here . https://www.britannica.com/event/My-Lai-Massacre The pictures of Trang Bang in 1972 had an even more powerful impact on the world's public opinion. Some may remember the photos that showed a naked girl crying as she ran from her village destroyed by napalm bombs. This photo became an icon of the anti-war movement. More information here. https://www.vanityfair.com/news/2015/04/vietnam-war-napalm-girl-photo-today Tim Page was one of the most famous and fearless photographers during the Vietnam War. His exciting book 'Page After Page' where he told his story about his time in Vietnam, has been made into a mini-series called Frankie's House: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0104294/ https://www.theguardian.com/media/gallery/2022/aug/24/tim-page-the-vietnam-war-photographers-career-in-pictures https://www.theguardian.com/world/2022/sep/01/tim-page-obituary Dave was in contact with Tim Page before his first trip to Vietnam in 1992, and Tim gave him some information and recommendations on what to see and visit. Among them were the contact details of a Vietnamese photographer, Mr Hoang Van Cuong, who, in 1992, owned a bar in Saigon called the Cyclo Bar. He was a photographer during the Vietnam War. After the departure of the Americans and the fall of the South, he remained behind with his wife and family. He went into hiding to escape the victorious North Vietnamese as they took over Saigon and persecuted every potential political dissident and certainly those who had worked for the Americans. Hoang Van Cuong survived by becoming a farmer in the Mekong Delta. After nine years, he was captured and sent to the forced labour camps, euphemistically known as 're-education camps'. In 1989, after spending five years in this camp, he was released. Finally, after fourteen years, he was reunited with his wife and family. Fortunately, he had been able to hide the negatives of the photographs that he had taken during the Vietnam War with members of his extended family. These photographs were on show in 1992 in a little gallery on top of his bar. He sold them for US $20 each to supplement his meagre income from his bar. All the famous war photographers at the time visited him, came to his bar and pinned their business cards on the wall of his gallery to offer their former colleague much-needed support. During his visit in 1992, Dave bought two of his photographs, and they are still hanging on the walls of our living room in our flat in London. Dave was there just before Christmas and was told that a week before, Carol Thatcher, the daughter of former Prime Minister Margret Thatcher, was also there and had bought ten of Mr Cuong's photos as Christmas presents for her friends back home. So, when we are in Saigon, we will definitely try and find the Cyclo Bar and hope to see Mr Hoang Van Cuong. Here is a link to the remarkable story of Mr Hoang Van Cuong. https://vivujourneys.com/product/local-legend-mr-hoang-van-cuong-vietnam/ And here we go: Our tour begins In the following, for each day of our tour, we will post the itinerary of our programme outlined by the tour company we are travelling with, Explore!, followed by our personal tales and impressions. Enjoy the trip with us. Day 1: Saturday, 21 October 2023 - Departure The Flight from Heathrow to Saigon, Ho Chi Minh City, was easy peasy. 13 hours flying for a bit more than 10,000 km. We were quite surprised about Vietnam Airlines because the reviews we read were pretty poor. The usually dead boring introduction to the security procedure was funny and caught our attention: They showed a video with flight attendants dancing traditional Vietnamese dances while explaining not to smoke, how to fasten your seatbelt or how to put your oxygen mask or safety vest on. The food was Vietnamese and very good; even so, we had to get used to having chicken noodle soup for breakfast. The alternative, hash brownies, bacon, scrambled eggs and bland bread, seemed not so exciting. The crew were generous with the wine and beer, and you were not lectured after one glass that alcohol is bad for you when flying, as we experienced all too often with British Airways, Virgin Airlines and American Airlines, while we could see that first and business class had an endless stream of Champagne and wine, in real glasses. What a surprise! With all our meals, we head real knives and forks and glasses, unknown for years, travelling in cattle class on other airlines. The selection of movies was interesting, too. You could only choose between Asian and Hollywood busters. I opted for three Vietnamese films (as I could not sleep) that had won many awards, and I was not disappointed. In particular, I liked a film called “The Scent of Green Papaya” about a young Vietnamese girl from the countryside working as a maid in a family in a town. A good introduction to a country that I had never visited before. Day 2: Sunday, 22 October 2023 - Join the tour in Hanoi Arrive in Vietnam's capital, famous for its rich culture, bustling life and colonial influences on their centuries-old architecture. Little lakes dotted around the city are encased by busy streets and secret alleyways waiting to be explored. From Ho Chin Minh City, we had to continue our journey to Hanoi (another 2-hour flight), where we met the rest of the group to start our tour. We are a group of 13, mostly at a similar age as we, from 60 onwards, and as it turned out, with similar interests. We are starting our tour in Hanoi, The "City between the Rivers", as the Vietnamese call their capital. Hanoi is also considered one of the most beautiful cities in Asia, with French charm and typical Vietnamese chaos, we are told. We will see. Although Saigon played a vital role in colonial history and the wars of the last two centuries, Hanoi, located in the Red River Delta and the nearby mountains, is, with its over 4000 years of history, referred to as the cradle of Vietnam. Like no other place in Vietnam, we are told, the various eras characterise Hanoi's atmosphere. Kings, Confucius, colonial rulers, the military, and, more recently, capitalists made their mark on the city's landscape. It houses hundreds of temples and pagodas, many museums, colonial-era facades and modern highrise department stores. There is so much to see, but we have little time. We can only get a glimpse of the sights in the city. Day 3: Monday, 23 October 2023 - Discover the sights of Hanoi, including the Old Quarter This morning, we have a tour of the main sights of Hanoi. Architecturally styled like a French provincial town with tree-lined boulevards and substantial low-built houses, the city is wonderfully nostalgic. Among the interesting sights are the charming One-Pillar Pagoda, the Confucius Temple and the Presidential Palace. Ho Chi Minh himself, a spartan-living and scholarly man, chose not to live in the Presidential Palace; he preferred instead a simple teak stilt house specially built for him on the grounds. This afternoon, we walk through the narrow lanes of the fascinating Old Quarter, where the streets are named after various crafts or specialities: Paper Street, Silk Street, Basket Street and so on. The shops have very narrow frontages but are quite deep; they are known locally as tube shops. On the pavements, food sellers sell noodles, snacks and stir-fries from shoulder panniers. The smell of food mixes with the smell of incense from small temples dotted around. Hanoi is super interesting. There is so much to see and so much to do. First of all, the food is very tasty. Our tour leader, Lan, always finds little restaurants and places for us to eat. On the first evening, he brought a big Coca-Cola bottle full of homemade rice wine made by his father. Very tasty, too, and it certainly loosened everyone up in the group. Our tour leader tells us lots of stories about the Vietnamese way of life. I was very surprised about the small, tall houses all over Hanoi. He explained that the houses and grounds are very expensive. That’s the reason why most of the houses are only 3 meters wide but have several floors above. The houses are also called tube houses because although they are only 3 meters wide, they go far back, sometimes up to 60 meters, including perhaps a workshop, accommodation, courtyards, etc. Each house has a shop on the ground floor where the family sells something. This is another reason for the houses being small because the tax for the businesses is based on the size of the shop front. As the houses are so small, the goods are displayed on the pavement, and selling occurs there too. So it is difficult moving around on pavements, and often you have to go onto the busy streets, risking being run over by the masses of motorbikes. There are many tiny restaurants where people sit on little chairs or stools. We also learnt that only a few people in Vietnam seem to have fridges. Therefore, they go shopping for food a few times a day. In Hanoi, no such thing as a big supermarket exists, but people buy in little shops on the street. That explains why we see so many food stores on the pavement offering vegetables, rice noodles, fish, seafood or meat. The shopkeepers get a delivery of food and prepare it on the pavement for sale. For example, at a butcher’s shop, half a pig was delivered in the morning (on a motorbike), and the female shop owner cut it into pieces for her customers to buy. Business was good, and by midday, the half-pig was gone. No need for a fridge. The roads are full of motorbikes, scooters, bicycles and cars. I am very impressed with the size of the load the motorbikes and bicycles can carry and how they manoeuvre through the traffic. We visit the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum - but only from the outside, as it is closed to visitors on Mondays. Ho Chi Minh was embalmed here - but against his express wishes. He wanted his ashes divided into three parts and kept in three ceramic urns - the three parts were to represent the north, the centre and the south of the country. Opposite the Mausoleum is the National Assembly building, where Ho Chi Minh read out the Declaration of Independence on 2 September 1945. Not far from here is the former Presidential Palace, built from 1900 to 1908 as the residence of the Governor General. Ho Chi Minh did not want to live in the ostentatious building but had a more modest house built by the lake. In summer, when it was too hot, he moved into a small hut on stilts next door. Of course, we also visit sights such as the One Pillar Pagoda and the Temple of Literature, which was the intellectual and spiritual centre of the kingdom for centuries. Photos left to right: Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum, Presidential Palace and Literature Temple. After watching the most important sites, such as the Ho Chi Minh Mausoleum and the Literature Museum, we explore the French Quarter. Here are many beautiful grand houses built by the French, which now mostly serve as Government buildings or where ambassadors live and embassies are housed. We see many mobile flower stalls where young beautiful women can buy or rent flowers for beautiful photographs, either taken by one of the many professional photographers or a friend or family member. Shortly before 11 a.m., we have to go into a narrow road and sit in a coffee shop. We are excited as we are waiting for the train from Saigon (called the Reunification Express) to come through this very narrow road. This, we were promised, is a special experience. Some of us are sitting on a balcony, and some are downstairs near the tracks, ready with our cameras. Dave has been able to find a special place from where he has the perfect view, but the locals shout at him to go back to the house wall. They even bring out a tiny chair for him to sit on but still warn him to take his leg in because the train would be coming close. And we can already hear him coming long before we see him. But then we can see him. A huge tall train is coming at high speed towards us. We press our bodies against the wall. Dave quickly brings in his knees as the long train approaches and passes by so close - it’s almost claustrophobic. But very exciting. Here is Dave's video clip of the impressive Reunification Express: Afterwards, we have lunch at the cafe, where we watched the train from. It’s all well organised and businesslike. The train passes through about four times a day. The rest of the day and night, the railway track is empty, and families use it to put the dinner table out for the whole family and enjoy their meal. Luckily they know the timetable so they can relax. We then walk for hours around the Old Quarter. This is a traditional old town with interesting architecture and many shops and markets. There are streets dedicated to selling silk, jewellery, baskets, shoes, soaps, paper, tin products, bamboo goods, food etc. It is fascinating wandering around the streets and taking in the sights and smells. Later on, we go on a rickshaw tour around the old town. The rickshaws are like bicycles, powered by men with strong legs. This is a lazy way of getting to know the city, but after many kilometres of walking, we enjoy being lazy. Some of us even nod off. At five pm, we have tickets booked for the water puppet show. Masses of people visit these shows, which are offered five times a day. A group of musicians and singers present traditional songs that accompany tales of traditional life in Vietnam about water buffalos, dragons, fishermen, rice farmers, etc. It’s lots of fun when the dragons spy water and the fish fly around and out of water. The puppets are handled behind a screen by a group of people who are standing up to their hips in the water. They move the puppets across the water with long bamboo poles and strings. Very impressive. I can only hope the water is warm or they have Neoprene suits on. We had another delicious dinner in a small restaurant. Our guide selects places where the Vietnamese people go. They usually look unassuming, and we would possibly not choose to go there. We have not yet seen a tourist restaurant from the inside. Good so! Yummy! Day 4: Tuesday, 24 October 2023 - Free time in Hanoi, then drive to Halong Bay We have some free time in Hanoi this morning, perhaps to visit some of the many museums or Ho Chi Minh's austere mausoleum, which resembles Lenin's in Moscow. Afterwards, we drive out towards the iconic Halong Bay in the Gulf of Tonkin. Thousands of jagged limestone islands rise out of the jade-green waters like the hairy scales of a submerged dragon. In fact, Halong means: 'Where the dragon descends to the sea'. As legend has it, the rugged seascape was created by the pounding tail of a dragon as he ran from the mountains into the sea, carving the islands in his wake. Hanoi Hilton - the infamous Hanoi Prison (Maison Centrale) This morning is free for exploring. We are going to the Hanoi Hilton. This is not a luxurious Hotel, but the infamous local Prison Hoa Lo in Hanoi, sarcastically called Hanoi Hilton by the American prisoners of war who, mostly pilots and flight technicians, were captured and detained when their planes were shot down. The most famous of them was John McCain, who later became a Democratic Senator but recently died. Donald Trump famously said of John McCain he was a loser because he was caught. McCain was captured and tortured and kept in this prison for five years until his release and that of all American prisoners of war after the Paris Peace Accords was signed on 27th January 1973. The prison was originally built in 1896 by the French Colonisers. It was one of the largest and fortified prisons in Indochina at that time. It was handed over to the Vietnamese authorities in 1954 when the French left. A large part of the prison museum is dedicated to the history and poor and appalling conditions under which the French kept dissenting Vietnamese inmates in the first half of the 20th Century. The American pilots prisoners of war are returned to the US. Another part is devoted to the American Vietnam War and the life of American prisoners in Hoa Lo Prison from 1964 to 1973. The exhibition is eager to show how well the Vietnamese treated the captivated American soldiers. The photos show they were given good food and allowed to exercise and play basketball and baseball, celebrate Christmas and receive food parcels from their families. This is somehow contradicted by reports from American soldiers of torture and interrogation we read before coming to Vietnam. The prisoners were also shown films to educate them about the Vietnam country and the people they had been fighting against. When the prisoners were finally released, they were given new clothes and a bag full of presents. All is there to see in the many photos. What impressed me most was the part in the exhibition on the reconciliation process between the two countries, the US and Vietnam, after the war. Photos document the visits of US Presidents and diplomats and the efforts of reconciliation on the side of the US to make good for some of the damage they had done to the country, for example, through the use of Agent Orange. Also, many American soldiers had come back to visit the prison, reflect on their part in the war and beg forgiveness. The visit was certainly worthwhile and thought-provoking. The US Ambassador in Vietnam, Peterson, and Senator McCain visit Hoa Lo Prison. More information on https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hỏa_Lò_Prison And https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hanoi_Hilton_(film) In the afternoon, we made our way by bus to Ha Long, at the seaside. On the way, we stopped at a rice and vegetable plot, watching how the farm workers work the land. In the evening, we went out for dinner. This time, our tour guide, determined to show us as many typical Vietnamese dishes as possible, ordered a hot pot for ten people. This is a big metal bowl with soup on a little gas cooker placed in the middle of our huge table. Then, all sorts of ingredients were placed around the hot pot: slices of beef and pork, various sorts of vegetables, tofu, and scampi, which were still alive and tried to jump off the plate. Our guide manned the hot pot and poured into the soup one plate full of goodies after the other. Each took a few minutes to boil; then he dished them out on our plates to eat. Very delicious! It was just a bit awkward watching when he threw the living scampi into the pot, and some tried to jump out to escape the boiling broth. Still, I have to say they tasted really good. Hot pot with live scampi Day 5: Wednesday, 25 October 2023 - Cruise Halong Bay; from Hanoi overnight train to Hué This morning, we enjoy the romantic scenery of Halong Bay on a cruise amongst the islands. We'll have the chance to stop at a grotto beneath towering cliffs and perhaps visit a beach. It is interesting to see the curious assortment of tourist boats, traditional junks and wooden sampans gliding through the waters. We enjoy a seafood lunch on board the boat before returning to a hotel in Hanoi to freshen up before boarding the Reunification Express to Hué. In the morning, we went on a boat cruise around Halong Bay. We were stunned by the beautiful bay, where over 1900 little islands stick out of the water. They all have different shapes and are called according to their form, such as chicken island, pig island, and turtle island. On one of the islands, Ti-Top, we stopped and walked up to a viewing point at the top from where we had a fascinating view. Afterwards, we visited a huge cave called Hang Sung Sat and admired the many impressive stalactites. This UNESCO World Heritage Site, Ha Long Bay, is one of the most popular tourist destinations in Vietnam, attracting millions of visitors each year. In recent years, the number of tourists visiting Halong Bay has increased dramatically, making it one of the most visited attractions in the country. The Bay is particularly popular with tourists from nearby China. While in 2010, 1.6 million visitors came to Ha Long Bay, in 2022, the total number of visitors has been about 11.5 million. - Sadly, with all the negative side effects. Along the beach and all over the town, many high-rise hotels and apartment blocks were built that, in our view, spoil the view of the beautiful bay. It was time to get back to Hanoi, but we stopped shortly at a pearl farm and learned how pearls are grown inside oysters by means of a kind of artificial insemination. Interesting. They also had a big shop with many beautiful pearl necklaces, rings and earrings on show. Unfortunately, a bit too pricy for us. Then, we quickly had to rush back to Hanoi to catch our night train to Hue. Day 6: Thursday, 26 October 2023 - In Hué; boat along Perfume River to Thien Mu Pagoda We arrive in Hué, one of the great cultural and religious centres of Vietnam, a quietly impressive place. The Perfume River divides the city in two and has been the inspiration for poets and painters for many centuries. This afternoon, we will take a trip by boat along the Perfume River from Hué to the Thien Mu Pagoda. This serene temple is the oldest in Hué and also the symbol of the city. We arrived in Hue at 10.30 in the morning after a 13 ½ hour train journey. The journey was okay. We had cabins with bunk beds for four people. Blankets and pillows were provided, but I was glad about my own thin silk sleeping bag as you never know how freshly washed these blankets were. I was surprised that I could sleep at all. The constant rattling of the old train seemed to have lulled me into sleep. Luckily, some of the boys in our group managed to get a few beers, which they shared with the group and which also helped send us to sleep. Each train carriage had two toilets. However, one needed to get used to operating the flush as the handle had gone and instead, a metal pin had to be pulled, switched and pressed to operate the flush. It required skill and patience, and I got it after a while, but not many passengers could be bothered. As a result, soon the smell was overwhelming. Beside each toilet was also a niche with a sink with soap and a towel to freshen up. In the morning, trolleys came through that offered breakfast, stale bread with undefined sauces. We preferred to nibble on our rice crackers, which we had brought with us and enjoyed sipping a hot cup of tea and slowly waking up, looking forward to our next adventure. Hue, the Imperial City, now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, was once the capital of Vietnam between 1802 and 1945, ruled by the Nguyen Dynasty until Ho Chi Minh’s communist government took over and set up the capital in Hanoi. Hue is a gold mine for those interested in the cultural history of Vietnam. Hue Imperial City comprises the Forbidden Purple City, royal tombs, pagodas, temples, royal quarters, a library and a museum. Fortunately, many of its tombs, pagodas and castles survived the violent wars. Once we arrived in Hue, we took one of the dragon boats that go along the Perfume River. Through lovely scenery, the boat brought us to the famous Thien Mu Pagoda, the oldest pagoda in Hue, built in 1601. It is surrounded by a wonderfully maintained garden with many flowers and plants. The Pagoda also is known because it became a hotbed of anti-government protests against President Ngo Dinh Diem’s hard rule against Buddhists. A devoted Catholic, Ngo favoured Catholics and discriminated against Buddhists, for example, in public service, in the army and when distributing government aid. In the summer of 1963, the army killed nine Buddhists. Protests were held across the country, and the Thien Mu Pagoda became a major meeting place for the Buddhist movement and was often a place of protests. The Thien Mu Pagoda was the home monastery of Buddhist monk Tich Quang Duc, who shocked the world when he set himself on fire in Saigon in 1963 in protest against the persecution of Buddhists by the South Vietnamese government. In the garden of the Pagoda, the vehicle that drove Thich Quang Duc to Saigon in June 1963 is kept along with a picture of the burning monk (see photos above). For lunch, our tour guide had planned a special treat for us. For centuries, the Royal Family employed their special cooks who prepared the most amazing dishes for them. Our tour guide organised for us to have lunch cooked by a family that had for generations cooked for the royal family. We entered the citadel to get to their home. And a royal meal it was indeed. This was the best meal we had in Vietnam and perhaps the best ever. Our royal lunch consists of spring rolls, marigolds , rice, tofu, fried fish, green papaya salad , pineapple and m any more delicacies. Besides our hosts, the royal chefs. In the evening, Dave and I walked through Hue in search of a specific bar, which Dave had found on the internet, the DMZ Bar, for Demilitarised Zone. The bar was founded in 1994 as a place for war veterans and war-curious travellers to meet and take tours to the demilitarised zone that divided North and South Vietnam during the war. The DMZ was located just north of Hue and was a place of many battles. We found the bar, had a drink there, and Dave bought a T-shirt with a map of the DMZ on the back. We had a lovely talk with one of the waiters, a young student of journalism. (In Vietnam, many restaurants and shops employ students to work as there are no government grants, and the young people have to find work to maintain themselves through their studies.) He shyly approached us, whether we wouldn’t mind talking to him. He wanted to practice his English. He had many questions about our travels, our experiences and our life experiences. We also discussed the importance of good journalism and the professional ethics of a journalist. We explain our opinion that a journalist must have a backbone and report truthfully. He agrees but admits that this is not always possible in a country like Vietnam. Day 7: Friday, 27 October 2023 - In Hué, visit the Imperial Citadel; free afternoon This morning, we appreciate Hué's fascinating history with a visit to the Imperial Citadel. Located on the left bank is the river; this palace was built by the Nguyen dynasty, Vietnam's ruling emperors from the early 1800s to 1945. The Citadel has formal moats and impressive ramparts that were constructed by 20,000 men and was a copy of the Forbidden City in Beijing. Although most of the inner part of the city was totally destroyed during the month-long Tet Offensive in 1968, the vast outer walls and the west wing remain an eloquent reminder of the palace's former glory. The remainder of the day is free perhaps to explore some of the outlying Tombs of the Emperors . We spend the morning exploring the Citadel and strolling about the grounds and gardens of the palace. Unfortunately, the palace is being renovated, so we are unable to see the inside of the palace. More information on the h istory of this interesting place is here to find: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Imperial_City_of_Hue In the afternoon, after an opulent lunch at a monastery (veggies only), we visited a village where they produce incense sticks. We learn how to make them and can practice making sticks with cinnamon, lemongrass, and jasmine smells. At the incense workshop, I learned how to make incense sticks. Dave has a rest between the many colourful, lovely-smelling sticks. The rest of the group continued afterwards to explore some of the Tombs of the Emperor further afield. We gave this a miss and decided to go back to Hue to explore the city, enjoy a cup of coffee in one of the many nice cafes and watch the world go by. Day 8: Saturday, 28 October 2023 - Scenic drive via Danang to Hoi An We enjoy a scenic drive across the spectacular Col des Nuages, otherwise known as the Hai Van Pass, observing rural scenes of thatched, wooden houses and lime-green rice paddies as well as enjoying panoramic sea views. Pausing in Danang, once the centre of the Kingdom of Champa (2nd century AD - 1720), we visit the Cham Museum, home to a fine collection of Cham sculptures. Our next stop is at the nearby five peaks of the Marble Mountains, said to represent the five elements of water, wood, fire, gold and earth. Naturally formed grottoes have been transformed into heavily carved Buddhist sanctuaries. A short distance from the mountains, we find the white sands of My Khe Beach (nicknamed China Beach by American troops)- an ideal spot for a brief rest. Finally, we reach our destination - the UNESCO World Heritage town of Hoi An. Today is a day of travelling. So we simply sit back and relax and enjoy the beautiful landscape passing by on our way to Da Nang. We are mightily surprised by the beauty of the area and the flash greens surrounding us, knowing full well that 50 years ago, during the American war, this all had been destroyed by Agent Orange and other chemical weapons. Amazing how nature recuperates itself. Drive towards Da Nang Bay Once we arrived in Da Nang Bay, we walked along China Beach and visited the Cham sculptures in the famous Cham Museum. After that, we drove on to explore the Marble Mountains and some beautiful pagodas and temples. Exhibition of Cham sculptures in the Cham Museum in Da Nang The China Beach and the Marble Mountains Day 9: Sunday, 29 October 2023 - Free day to explore Hoi An; optional visit to My Lai The historic merchant town of Hoi An had become one of the busiest international trading ports of Southeast Asia by the 17th and 18th centuries. First colonised by the Portuguese in the 16th Century, it still retains its medieval charm today, with many of its old buildings superbly preserved. The day is free to explore at leisure. You may choose to visit the Japanese Bridge or some of the Chinese temples and meeting halls in the Old Town. There are many shops, bars and restaurants in this charming town, and it is a great place to buy souvenirs, have clothing tailored, or simply watch the world go by in a riverside café. You may wish to take an optional excursion out to the site of the My Lai village massacre memorial. The massacre was a significant turning point in the American War, and the horrific story is told through a very emotive exhibition of photography. Another option would be to take a fishing trip out to the Thu Bon River Delta, where we learn how to fish using a traditional cast net. Travelling out by boat, we meet local fishermen and try our hand at cast net fishing as well as trying the bamboo winches used to haul in the huge drop nets from the river. We also have a chance to go out in a Vietnamese 'basket boat' - a circular boat constructed from bamboo that takes a little practice to row! Hoi An is a lovely town, now a UNESCO World Heritage Site . There is so much to see and so much to do. Most of the group decided to go out by boat along the river, learn how to make baskets boats, how to fish and also go for a bicycle ride. We took the op portunity to visit the village of My Lai, and together with another couple, the four of us undertook the five-hour return trip by minibus to visit the site of the massacre. When we reach My Lai, we are the only visitors apart from a small group of Scandinavian tourists. Inside the reception is a small photo exhibition giving information on the massacre. Some photos are well-known around the world. We can also see models of the village and its houses before and after they were destroyed. Accounts of some US soldiers are also on display of how they tried to interfere to stop the atrocities committed by their fellow soldiers. A video explains the development of the museum, which was set up by one of the survivors decades after the massacre. He is shown in one of the pictures below with an umbrella against the background of graves. The video also presents eyewitnesses and survivors as they visit the museum and tell their experiences. There is a touching and tense scene in the film when a former US soldier revisits My Lai years after and is confronted with the atrocities he and his fellow soldiers have committed. In a nearby temple, the names of the 504 people who were killed that day are written on a huge plaque. Outside, we can see the ruins where the houses once stood, and small plaques give the names and ages of those killed in this family. One house has been restored to demonstrate how the families in this village lived. The entrance to an artillery shelter can be seen. A big tree has a plaque saying that it had survived and witnessed everything that was going on. My Lai Massacre: The name of My Lai is probably familiar to many, even those with only a basic knowledge of the Vietnam War. The village has tragically become infamous through the brutal action of the US Army on 16 March 1968, going down in history as the My Lai Massacre. Here is a link to more information on the My Lai Massacre by Britannica . https://www.britannica.com/event/My-Lai-Massacre Dave's comments on My Lai: My Lai was the place, and 16th March 1968 was the date of what would forever become known as the infamous My Lai massacre, where U.S. soldiers killed 504 civilians. The victims included men, women, children and infants. Some of the women were gang-raped, and their bodies mutilated. It became the largest publicized massacre of civilians by U.S. forces in the 20th century. Twenty-six soldiers were charged with criminal offences, but only Lieutenant Willian Calley, a platoon leader, was convicted. He was found guilty of murdering 22 villagers and was originally given a life sentence. He served only three-and-a-half years under house arrest after U.S. President Richard Nixon commuted his sentence. I visited the My Lai memorial site 31 years ago, and it was a deeply disturbing experience as it was on my second visit. Certain elements of the memorial site have changed over the years. The museum had grown bigger, as did the trees and shrubs within the memorial site. The drainage ditch is still there, and what remains of the homesteads. The small plaques giving the names and ages of the victims who were killed remain. As we drove away, I felt a feeling of sadness, for there were only a handful of other people visiting the site, and I was expecting there to be a lot more visitors. The Vietnam War, called the American War by the Vietnamese, came to an abrupt end on 30th April 1975. That was when North Vietnamese tanks rolled through the gates of the Presidential Palace in Saigon, effectively ending the Vietnam War. That was 48 years ago, and our generation remembers that war vividly as it was on the T.V. news most nights. The younger generation can read all about the Vietnam/American War in history books. Today’s generation can watch the latest conflicts and wars in real time on 24-hour T.V. news channels and social media. Alas, our generation is also becoming part of history. To lift up our sombre mood after this experience, on our return, we stroll through the beautiful town of Hoi An. We walk along the river, admiring the traditional houses, the temples and the many lanterns and balloons which give the town a romantic atmosphere, particularly at night. Day 10: Monday, 30 October 2023 - Visit ancient My Son; free afternoon in Hoi An A further day is spent based in this lovely historic town. This morning, we take an excursion to the holiest and most evocative of Vietnam's Cham sites, My Son. The Chams were dynastic lords who rejected the authority of China in 2AD and established their own kingdom. Although they benefited from strong sea links with the rest of Southeast Asia, the kingdom's interior could not supply sufficient food for a strong military force. For 1,000 years, they managed to stave off attacks by the Vietnamese and Chinese before being overcome by the Vietnamese in the 15th Century. The track that leads to the site is slow and bumpy through wooded hills, but the site is certainly impressive, with several groupings of Cham temples to be visited. Nowhere are the fine masonry skills of the Chams more evident than at My Son, despite the fact that much of the site was bombed in the 1960s. The afternoon is free to enjoy Hoi An further. A cookery class at one of Hoi An's restaurants is a popular choice, as is the lantern-making workshop where you can learn how to make the ubiquitous lanterns in Hoi An. The beach is only a short drive by taxi alternative . Alternatively , a boat trip on the river as the late afternoon sun lights up the riverfront is a treat. Today is my birthday!! And a special one, too. 70 years young. I can't believe it. Age is just a number, and I don't feel anywhere near that. (yet!) Anyway, we wanted to celebrate this special occasion in style by going to Vietnam. And here we are. We decide to have a leisurely morning. We drop out of the scheduled trip to explore the Vietnam Cham temples, an hour's drive outside of Hoi An. Instead, we want to explore more sites of beautiful Hoi An. Unfortunately, it is raining, but that does not bother us. The hotel gives us big umbrellas, and off we go. The rain is warm anyway. This time, we want to discover Hoi An by day. We walk along the river, admire the traditional houses and visit some temples. Hoi An was once an important Southeast Asian trading port from the 15th-19th centuries. Miraculously, the city was spared the bombings during the American war, and the old charming yellow-painted houses and buildings have been preserved. We observe some tourists and locals as they get on with whatever they are doing. When we stroll through the market, the rainwater is dripping from the makeshift tarpaulins to cover the stalls. The market traders and their customers go about their business undaunted. But we have enough of the rainwater dripping on our necks, and to escape the rain, we visit a few of the many clothes shops. In Hoi An, you see someone with a sewing machine in almost every house. The town is known for its skilled tailors who offer to make clothes for you within a day. I decide against it as time is tight but buy myself a birthday present, a nice thin top that does not take up too much space in my luggage. We also visit some museums, such as the cultural and folklore museums. I was particularly interested in the Museum of Traditional Medicine. Traditional Medicine in Vietnam has a long-standing history. It is influenced by traditional Chinese medicine but differs as it uses primarily herbs and plants, either fresh or dried, and does not use complex concoctions like Chinese medicine, so we are told. The museum is housed in a typical old Hoi An building with traditional architecture. The rooms of the front building are reconstructed as the traditional medicine shop in Hoi An, including the areas with cabinets for herbal medicine, the place for pulse diagnosis and the waiting area for the patients. The courtyard is a place for drying herbs and preserving medicines. In the rear building, some methods of processing herbal medicines are presented. The rooms on the upper floor display and introduce traditional Vietnamese medicine, tools, equipment and information. The museum is interesting, and I could have spent some more time there, but now it's time to go home. The rest of the group will be back soon, and the tour leader has asked Dave to make sure that we are back in the hotel by 12 midday. I wonder why? At 12.30 we get a phone call saying they would be late for another half hour. Finally, they arrive, and I am presented with a birthday song, a card, flowers and a lovely cake and congratulated on my special day. Most of the group had already wished me happy birthday at breakfast, but there can never be enough gratulations and good wishes. I dish out the cake to all of us, and it tastes delicious. I am happy with my birthday celebration. Only later, I was told that there was a bit of a hiccup. Not my birthday cake! Apparently, our tour leader mixed up the birthdays. He sang Happy Birthday, dear James , on the bus, but no one joined in the singing because it was not James's birthday, but mine. Shortly before coming back, he told one group member they had to stop by a bakery to pick up the cake he had ordered for James for his birthday. My birthday cake His jaw dropped when he noticed he had ordered a birthday cake for the wrong person and with the wrong name on it. My birthday cake did not have a name, but I did wonder why some in the group had red fingers. Some had carefully scraped away James's name. To make up for it, the guide wanted to go and find a bunch of flowers for me. That explains the delay. What a lovely story. I will never forget this birthday. It was a running joke throughout the rest of the tour. Cooking class The birthday celebrations continue. Later in the afternoon, we have a cooking class, and the host greets us with a round of delicious homemade rice wine to toast to my health. How nice! Thank you! Eleven of our group have opted for this cooking class run by the famous Chef Hung Nguyen and his team. And now we are ready to learn how to cook some very tasty Vietnamese dishes. Each person has a stove in front of them. The ingredients for each dish are measured and prepared. The Masterchef explains the ingredients and shows us how to prepare and cook the dish. Afterwards, it is our turn, and he and his assistants supervise, meaning they help us to cook the dish. It is enjoyable, but no matter how hard we try, the dish never looks as good as when the professional chefs do it. Still, it tastes very nice. We start by learning how to cook a Vietnamese fried rice pancake, then grilled fish in banana leaf, and after that, green papaya salad with chicken and vegetable spring rolls. After preparing each dish, we eat it immediately at our table. This way, we are not kept too hungry, having to wait until the end of the cooking session. At the end of the cooking class, Chef Hung handed us a little booklet with the recipes for the dishes we learned to cook. This was a great experience, and we certainly will try to cook this at home. We thank our chef and his assistants and make our way through the ongoing heavy rain. The plan was to finish the day with a round of birthday drinks in a nice bar, but given the heavy rain and the many deep poodles of rainwater, we decide to postpone the drinks to another day and make our way home. Despite the umbrellas, we arrive at the hotel wet through and hope everything will dry out until we have to move on the next morning. Day 11: Tuesday, 31 October 2023 - Fly to Ho Chi Minh City; drive to Mekong Delta After a short drive to Danang Airport, we fly to Ho Chi Minh City, from where we drive further south to Ben Tre in the Mekong Delta. Surrounded by lush and fertile land, the area is home to small villages and swaying coconut palms. We take a local ferry to a nearby village, which we explore by trishaw. Later, we board sampans, which are small Chinese wooden boats, and cruise along the narrow canals that shoot off the main vein of the Mekong River. After lunch at a local house, we have some free time to explore the area further. Finally, we return to Ben Tre by boat, where we spend the night in a local homestay with shared facilities and dorm-style accommodation. At 5 o'clock, we receive a wake-up call from the hotel reception. We are already awake as we must be packed and ready in the lobby at 5.15 am. Our bus brings us to the Da Nang Airport, one hour away, to catch our early flight to Ho Chi Minh City. While waiting at the airport, we unwrap our packed breakfast given by the hotel. However, used to their usually excellent and abundant breakfast, we are somehow disappointed when we only find stale bread, a boiled egg and a banana. Never mind. The delicious hot tea from one of the coffee shops and a few leftover rice crackers make up for it. At Ho Chi Minh Airport, our bus brings us to the Mekong Delta. The journey takes 2 ½ hours. The Mekong Delta is the region in southwestern Vietnam where the long Mekong River that originates in Tibet flows into the South China Sea. It does so through a network of many distributary channels or rivers, small and large, forming many small and bigger islands. The Mekong Delta is an essential source of agriculture and aquaculture for the country, but the size of the land area covered by water depends on the season. Many islands and agricultural sites are flooded by increasing floods resulting from rising sea levels due to climate change. Plans are underway in many areas to erect a system of dykes to help stem the floods. Our destination is the district of Ben Tre. On the riverbank, we enter a long boat and travel down the Mekong River, passing by many small islands and waterways until we come to a small island called Xa Tam Hiep. Here will be our homestay for this night. We cruise around the island, and my heart sinks. It looks pretty desolate. The tide regularly makes the river swell, and many parts of the island are under water. To help the constant flooding, here also a dam is currently being built on parts of the island. There are cranes and machinery everywhere. The island is isolated, and so are the islanders. There is a ferry service to the mainland a few times a day, but the last one is at 5.30 pm. In an emergency, arranging transport may be tricky, particularly when it rains heavily. We are going by boat down the Mekong River. Constant flooding on the islands, photo re. The school is on another, bigger island, and pupils must take the ferry to get to school. On these small islands, there are few work opportunities. Some families grow vegetables, or bananas or coconuts. No wonder many islanders leave the Mekong Delta for the bigger cities for work. Only recently, some families developed business ideas, like homestay for the few tourists that pass by for a day or two, like the family we are staying with. Another family markets jelly they make from green leaves they grow in their garden. We watched the process of making and tasted the result sweetened with sugar syrup. Not bad. It's called Green Grass Jelly and is supposed to be very healthy, cleansing the body. Green Jelly production, made from green leaves We learn that the islanders also make the best use of the plentiful coconuts that grow on the island. In a manufacturing plant, we watched the extraction of various products from coconuts. For example, the water from the green coconut is used for drinking, and the flesh from the ripe coconut is used for extracting coconut milk and making coconut bake (a mass of soya beans with coconut flesh steamed in banana leaves for 20 minutes. The shell is used for ornaments and handicrafts or for burning on the cooking stove. Small shell pieces are put into the fishing nets to ensure the fish swim and eat in a freshly cleansed environment before being caught. The ash of shells burnt in a giant oven can be used as fertiliser or marketed for medicinal purposes. Amazing, nothing is wasted. Coconut production: nothing is wasted Transport on the island Given the desolate situation we found when first approaching the small island, we are surprised when we arrive at our homestay. The house is a big wooden family home surrounded by a big garden on the river bank. Here, we could rest and enjoy the river view and the sunset by sitting on easy chairs on the bank of the river. The itinerary promised a dormitory-style homestay, and we expected to sleep either in bunk beds or, as we did once in the North of Thailand, all of us sleeping on the floor of a room above the pigs and other pets of the village and having to wash in rainwater from a barrel. Not this time! We had lovely modern equipped single and double rooms with big beds and access to a small patio which housed the washing basin, an outdoor shower and a toilet. Toilets and showers were separated from the room with a clear glass front. So one could have a full few of the other person having a shower or sitting on the toilet unless you preferred to use a curtain to ensure more privacy. Before we crawl to bed under our mosquito nets at night, we find two little frogs on the floor who have somehow made their way into our room. David heroically grabs them and returns them to the garden where they belong. Our lovely homestay The family feeds us fantastic meals. At lunchtime, we have a big fried fish, Tilapia. We are shown how to eat this fish: wrapping bits of fish with herbs, salads, and other ingredients into rice paper. As usual, this is followed by various dishes, including vegetable soup, rice, and veggies and finished with a selection of fresh fruit. Before the evening meal, we are invited to another cooking class in the family's kitchen. We learned to prepare spring rolls for our dinner, a different type than those we made in Hoi An. I find a few big glass jars in the corner of the kitchen with fruit or vegetables or flowers soaked in rice wine. We are given a taster of one of them. It is hibiscus flowers soaked for three months in rice wine. It looks like red wine and tastes good. One could get used to it. Dave finally gets his red 333 beer, which he had sought during our whole trip. He is disappointed as it does not taste as well as he remembered it from 31 years ago. Our local tour guide, the son of our host family, confirmed that the ingredients for this beer had changed some years ago, and it was no longer as tasty. At least this confirmed that Dave's memory might have been correct. The rest of the evening meal consists, as usual, of at least another six delicious dishes, including sweet vegetable soup, chicken with lemongrass, and a few vegetables and rice. Yummy. Once again, delicious food and drinks After that, we rest and digest on the veranda, listen to the noises of the wildlife in the garden and watch the stars. The loud karaoke noise we heard early evening from the next-door neighbour had stopped long ago. The agreement in the community is to keep the noise down from 6.30 pm onwards to avoid disturbing the neighbours. I am impressed. Day 12: Wednesday, 01 November 2023 - Mekong Delta cruise, then drive to Ho Chi Minh City. We spend the morning exploring the canals of the Mekong Delta, meeting some hard-working locals, perhaps with time to see coconut processing and trading. We also have options to walk or cycle along the canal to explore further. Later on, we drive back to Ho Chi Minh City. Next morning, we have freshly baked French-style baguette, Omelett real coffee and green tea, banana bread and some sticky jelly-type cakes for breakfast. Although convinced we would not be hungry again after the opulent dinner, we grab it with great appetite. Afterwards, it is time to go. We say thank you and goodbye to our welcoming hosts and local guide and wish them all the best for their homestay business. We then go for another boat ride to explore the coconut production line and finally go back by boat to the mainland, where our bus waits to take us back to Ho Chi Minh City. From the bus, I admire the innovations of the many motorcyclists on the highways and in the city to carry their heavy loads. Apart from us, there are several other Explore! Tours in Vietnam at the same time. Sometimes, we encounter them. For example, in the Mekong Delta, we met a tour group which we called the 'Foodies'. Their tour is dedicated to exploring Vietnamese food. They go to the markets in various Vietnamese regions, buy the typical food and then learn how to cook it. It sounds like an exciting tour; perhaps we should have done that. Next time? But sometimes, they must get up very early in the morning to go to the markets to get fresh produce. On the train to Hue and Hoi An, we came across some people on an Explore! Cycling tour. This also sounds interesting, as it means travelling at a different speed and enjoying more of the landscape. However, pedalling wildly in this heat may not be so much fun. Dave's additional comments on Saigon December 1992 was my last time in Vietnam, and almost 31 years is a long time. Back then, Vietnam had only recently opened its border, and the group I was travelling with was one of the first tourist groups allowed in. You could travel to Vietnam after the Vietnam War ended in 1976, but there were few tourists as the tourism infrastructure was almost non-existent back then. It took another ten years, from 1986 to the early 90s, for tourism to become a significant part of Vietnam’s economy. Few tourists were coming to Vietnam, but in the early 1990s, all that changed when the Government changed the visa entry requirements, which made the arrival process easier for international visitors. That was when everything changed: the country opened up to the world, and the evolution of the tourism infrastructure took off. Only 1,351,000 foreign tourists visited Vietnam in 1995. But from then on, the visitor numbers were rising fast, reaching more th an 18 Million vi sitors in 2019. Unfortunately, through the impact of the COVID-19 pandemic and its worldwide related travel restrictions, Vietnam's tourist numbers, as that of every other country, dropped sharply but are rising again. In 2022, almost 3.7 Million visitors came to Vietnam. Tourists coming to Vietnam spend around US$117 per day, so tourism is a major generator of income. My first impression of Saigon was how big it had become. The cyclists of 1992 had been replaced by motorcycles and scooters, and traffic congestion is a significant problem, especially during the morning and evening rush hours. Red traffic lights are frequently ignored. Shop owners rent pavement spaces outside their shops so people can park their scooters or motorcycles. Traffic congestion is so bad that scooters and motorcyclists use the pavements as shortcuts to avoid the stationary traffic queues at junctions. I once saw a car driving along the pavement, but of course, that’s against the law! Crossing any road was a nightmare until you adopted the Vietnamese way. You simply walk out into the traffic, and the cars, scooters and motorcyclists drive around you magically. Try that anywhere else; you’d be hooted at and frequently cursed. The famous Rex Hotel is still there. We sat in the rooftop garden bar, situated on the 5th floor and ordered two ‘Five O’Clock Follies’. This drink is history-laden, as the cocktail list informs: “ During the war, the U.S. Military held daily press briefings in the Rex Hotel bar. These affairs grew increasingly raucous as the gap between the war’s grim reality and official military accounts widened. Reporters nicknamed the briefings ‘The Five O’Clock Follies’, an afternoon ritual in which journalists, military officers, diplomats and spies could all enjoy a few cocktails, take in the sunset and watch the returning bombers. These days, the bombers are gone, but the stunning sunsets remain, and nowadays, the ‘Five O’Clock Follies’ come in Collins glasses, with ice, plenty of vodka, rum and Midori. ” The Rex is now surrounded by skyscrapers, which block out the view of the sunset and the airport, which is just under 5 miles/8 km away. We visit the Rex rooftop bar and cheer with one of these Five O'Clock Follies cocktails to all the famous people who stayed here, among them the infamous Graham Greene, a spy turned novelist. Day 13: Thursday, 02 November 2023 - In Ho Chi Minh City, explore Old Saigon and discover the 'Secret Weapons Bunker.' This morning, we walk around the central sights of Old Saigon, now District 1 of Ho Chi Minh City. We see the Notre Dame Cathedral, the GPO building, and some of the old French Colonial hotels such as The Rex. We then drive to the Independence Palace (renamed the Reunification Hall) and the graphic War Remnants Museum. This afternoon, we will experience a different side of Ho Chi Minh City, away from the major sights, where we take a walk through Old Saigon's back alleys. We make our way to District 3 and turn off the main thoroughfare and into the maze of narrow streets of this bustling district. Our walk takes us past ramshackle shopfronts, through local markets selling anything from colourful fruit to bootleg DVDs, and past houses, churches and schools, all squeezed into the small buildings that line the narrow alleys. It's a fascinating inter-connected community here that is a stones-throw from the city centre, yet feels a far cry from the modern buildings and throngs of tourists. We stop at a local stall for a traditional Vietnamese coffee (brewed coffee served sweet with condensed milk) where we can also sample 'Banh Mi' - a Vietnamese take on the humble French baguette - freshly baked and packed with a combo of traditional and more exotic, aromatic ingredients. The walk ends in the so-called 'secret weapons' bunker'. A small, unassuming 'tube house' nestled in a quiet neighbourhood hides a trap door in the floor, concealing a basement stocked full of rifles, grenades and ammunition. The bunker played a key role in the TET Offensive of 1968; it was the base from which the Viet Cong's "Team 5" launched their assault, and its location was only revealed after the end of the war. We have some time to explore the house and bunker, filled with decommissioned weapons and photographs, news clippings and memorabilia from wartime. We are on our feet early in the morning as we have a packed programme. So much to see, so much to do. So little time. We walk around Old Saigon's sites (now Ho Chi Minh City). We cannot see or visit the Notre Dame Cathedral, as it is currently under wraps because of essential renovation. But the opposite building, The Old Post Office , is open, and we admire the original red telephone boxes and feel as if we have gone back in time. From a massive picture on the wall, Ho Chi Minh watches people buying stamps, postcards and posting letters. While the rest of the group looks around the post office tourist shop for souvenirs, we hurridly search and find the nearby infamous old US American Embassy , which was the scene of several significant events during the Vietnam War, most notably the Viet Cong attack during the Tet Offensive that turned American public opinion against the war and the helicopter evacuations during the fall of Saigon on the 29th/30th April 1975 after which the embassy closed permanently. The building is still there, but it is no longer the embassy but the US American Consulate General. The new US Embassy is located in the capital, Hanoi. After that, we visit the Independence Palace , now also called the Reunification Palace, which was the residence and workplace of the President of the Republic of Vietnam (South Vietnam). On the 30th of April, a North Vietnamese Army tank crashed through the gate, Viet Cong declared the liberation of the South of Vietnam, effectively ending the Vietnam War or, as the Vietnamese say, the American War. Nowadays, the Palace is a museum where visitors can see the former President's office, the cabinet room, and his private chambers. In the basement, the former war room, communications rooms with ancient computers, and the shelter bedroom for the President are on display. On the roof of the building is a viewing platform over Ho Chi Minh City. At the side of it is a Viet Cong helicopter parked on the heliport in memory of the liberation day. A picture of the Viet Cong fighter pilot who bombed the Palace on this day is proudly displayed on the wall. Next, we visit the War Remnants Museum. Formerly, it was called the Museum of American Atrocities of War and Aggression. In 1995, in a more conciliatory move, it became the War Remnants Museum. It displays captured tanks, helicopters, fighter jets, ammunition and other relics of the Vietnam War. Several photo exhibitions inform on some of the atrocities committed by the American Army from a Vietnamese Communist Republic point of view. For example, American soldiers are seen mistreating and killing local Vietnamese people and disrespecting their corpses; jets are seen spraying Agent Orange and other chemical defoliant sprays as well as Napalm over the fields and villages; photos depict massacres, such as that of the village My Lai that we had visited. Thanks to one particular US Army photographer, Ronald Haeberle, the atrocities during this massacre on the 16th March 1968 became known to the American and worldwide public. He kept a second private camera and accomplished getting these horrific pictures published a year later in his home town's local newspaper on 20th November 1969 and 5th December 1969 in LIFE magazine. Once known to the public, his pictures contributed to a change in public opinion on the Vietnam War and fuelled massive protests worldwide against this war. One corner of the exhibition room is dedicated to the many war photographers who lost their lives in the line of duty during the Vietnam War. This special exhibition has been put together only recently by a group of photographers in honour of their colleagues, instigated by Tim Page. One whole floor is devoted to the effects and aftereffects of the use of Agent Orange and other chemical defoliant spray and Napalm. The display of the atrocities is terrible to see, and the atmosphere amongst the visitors is gloomy, but seeing the photos of the victims of these dangerous chemicals is stomach-turning. Severely deformed children born years and even decades after the war, both in Vietnam and the US, of the GIs who had handled these chemicals … I turn the camera off. I can't bear photographing voyeuristically such horror. Back on the bus, the group is in a sombre mood, and we find it hard to understand what human beings are capable of doing to other human beings. However, on reflection, we learn from history that we don't learn from history, as we can see in the current ongoing conflict in the Middle East. We still have another stop on our Ho Chi Minh sightseeing tour. We get to know part of the defence measures by the Viet Cong against the American Soldiers. We visit a so-called 'secret weapon's bunker'. Long after the war, it became public knowledge (and a site for tourists) that some of the unassuming houses in quiet neighbourhoods had in their basements concealed bunkers where they stocked rifles, grenades and ammunition for the Viet Cong. We have the opportunity to visit such a house, explore the bunker and get an insight into this kind of warfare by the Viet Cong. Additional information - The War Remnants Museum https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/War_Remnants_Museum https://www.lonelyplanet.com/vietnam/ho-chi-minh-city/attractions/war-remnants-museum/a/poi-sig/403144/357884 - The Dangers of Agent Orange and its Impacts on Vietnam On August 10, 1961, the US Army began chemical warfare in Vietnam. For ten years, from 1961 to 1971, the US army sprayed 80 million litres of toxic chemicals, 61% of which was Agent Orange, on one-quarter of Vietnam's southern region. Agent Orange caused great harm to people and the natural environment in Vietnam. Ecosystems have been damaged and cannot be restored. Generations of Vietnamese people have suffered physical and mental anguish due to Agent Orange. The Vietnamese Government has made overcoming the consequences of Agent Orange an urgent, long-term issue. There are three major Dioxin hot spots in Vietnam, including the Da Nang Air Base in Central Vietnam, Bien Hoa Airbase in Bien Hoa City (25 km from Ho Chi Minh City), and Phu Cat Airbase in Qui Nhơn in Southern Vietnam. The Vietnam Red Cross estimates that three million Vietnamese have been affected by dioxin, including at least 150,000 children born after the war with severe congenital disabilities, referring to the toxic chemical in Agent Orange. Hundreds of thousands of US soldiers were also exposed. Here is an article by a researcher in 2016 into the ongoing harm of unexploded bombs and chemical weapons from the Vietnam War. The Vietnam War is over, but the bombs remain. https://vietnaminsider.vn/the-vietnam-war-is-over-the-bombs-remain/ ------ Starting to say goodbye This is our last evening together as a group because eight people will continue their Explore tour tomorrow afternoon by exploring Cambodia for another week. After the visit to the CuChi Tunnels, the bus will drive them to the Cambodian border. So we have to commence saying goodbye. It was a good group; we blended well, had similar interests, exciting chats, and lots of fun. We will certainly miss them. Over the next two days, only the five of us will be left, which will feel very strange. After a lovely dinner, our tour guide shows us the nightlife of Ho Chi Minh City. Walking along Bar Street, we admire the many clubs and restaurants with women, boys and ladyboys dancing outside to attract visitors. Wow! We are mightily impressed, but it is too loud for us ‘old folks’. So we escape to a quiet corner where we can sit outside a bar, enjoying a drink and watching the world go by. Day 14: Friday, 03 November 2023 - From Ho Chi Minh City, visit Cu Chi Tunnels This morning, we take a short drive out of the city to the infamous Cu Chi Tunnels, which formed an incredible underground command base for 10,000 Viet Cong troops and were a major part of the 1968 Tet Offensive. The site is a fascinating insight into the resourcefulness of the Vietnamese. There is the opportunity to crawl through a small specially adapted section of the tunnels should you wish to sample the claustrophobic conditions in which the Viet Cong lived. Returning to Ho Chi Minh City, the remainder of the afternoon is free. Dave’s comments Cu Chi tunnels. It takes us a couple of hours in our coach to drive from our hotel in Saigon to the Cu Chi tunnel complex, a distance of only 30 km. The roads are congested with rush hour traffic streaming into the centre, just as they were 31 years ago, the only difference being that today the roads are better. The Cu Chi tunnels were started in the 1940s, and it took over 2½ decades to build a dense network of tunnels. They were mainly used for communication between villages during the war against the French. In 1941, Ho Chi Minh and other communist leaders created the Việt Minh. The years between 1940 and 1946 saw the rise of the communist-led Việt Minh insurgents, whose objective was independence from France. Whilst the Viet Minh were primarily a political organisation to drum up support for Vietnamese independence, the Viet Cong were exclusively a military force operating in the South. The name Viet Cong comes from the phrase "cong san Viet Nam," meaning Vietnamese communist. In the 1960s, the Viet Cong repaired and extended the Cu Chi tunnels and used them as a means for infiltrating intelligence agents and sabotage teams into the heart of Saigon. At its height, this area had over 200km of tunnels, some reaching the Cambodian border. To give you an idea of the tunnel complex, it took one man one day to advance a tunnel one cubic metre. The Viet Cong lived in these tunnels; they had to do to survive the bombardment above. Deep within the tunnels were hospitals and complex command centres, kitchens, a hospital, and workshops to make weapons and repair shoes; everything needed to survive for months underground. These tunnels were booby-trapped with simple but deadly metal spikes and poisoned bamboo spears to kill and maim the American GIs, who were known as the tunnel rats, for they crawled through the tunnel complex hunting down the Viet Cong. The Viet Cong won its first military victory against South Vietnamese forces in January 1963. On 8th March 1965, 3,500 United States Marines came ashore at Da Nang as the first wave of US combat troops into South Vietnam, adding to the 25,000 US military advisers already in place. This was the start of the Vietnam War, or as the Vietnamese would have it, the American War. In the 1970s, the Americans said that the 420 sq km of the Cu Chi district was 'the most bombed, shelled, gassed defoliated and generally devastated area in the history of warfare'. Much of this area was sprayed with Agent Orange – the most toxic substance known to man – which turned the jungle into a barren wilderness. I checked my notes from my previous visit. " The soil is poor, and nothing seems to grow properly. This poor growth is reflected in the washed-out colours of the sparse eucalyptus groves that have since been replanted ." What a difference 31 years makes! Now, the eucalyptus groves are lush, green and dense. The tall surrounding trees produce a thick canopy above, offering shade from the intense sun. The Cu Chi tunnel site has become a victim of its success. As we turned off the main road, we entered a vast parking area, which reminded me of a motorway service station – and just as busy. People were getting into and out of coaches and crowds milling about; gift shops everywhere, and a large toilet area. Lan, our guide, ushered us together, and we set off to tour the site. We followed a trail of tourist groups of every nationality, first into an underground area showing poor-quality videos on wide-screen televisions. We were then led around the site, whilst in the distance was the constant sound of gunfire. The tour's highlight was a crawl through a few hundred metres of tunnel that had been enlarged for the tourists. The tunnel had also been sanitised because the last time, the air was stale as I crawled through clouds of dust kicked up by the person in front. There were also bats flying out of the cross-tunnel passages. This time, some of our group didn't go because of their size or claustrophobia. We crawled through the tunnel on all fours and exited up a ladder. In the distance, there was a shooting range where tourists, for a price, could fire round after round of Vietnam war-era weaponry. Next to the shooting range was a huge cafeteria. Afterwards, we made our way back to the car park. Here it was, where we said goodbye to some of our fellow travellers as they were being driven to the nearby Cambodian border to meet their Cambodian guide for the next part of their adventure. The rest of us were transferred to a smaller coach and taken back to our hotel in Saigon. More information on the Cu Chi Tunnels: https://www.history.com/topics/vietnam-war/cu-chi-tunnels https://www.tnktravel.com/blogs/vietnam-blogs/7-amazing-factors-of-cu-chi-tunnels/ https://listverse.com/2017/05/14/top-10-ingenious-features-of-the-cu-chi-tunnels/?utm_source=email&utm_medium=Social&utm_campaign=SocialWarfare Day 15: Saturday, 04 November 2023 - Tour ends in Ho Chi Minh City The trip ends after breakfast at our hotel in Ho Chi Minh City. We use the last few hours to explore Saigon City and the river and take the lift to the viewing platform of the Saigon Skydeck. Now, it's almost time to go home. In retrospect Did we like the tour? Did we like Vietnam? Definitely! The tour was very well organised. It was packed with varying and exciting activities. We have seen and learned a lot in a very short time. Sometimes it was a rollercoaster of a programme, but we loved it. Dave and I are experienced individual travellers, well used to planning and organising our trips to our own liking and at our own speed. However, sometimes, it is good to sit back, relax, and let someone else do the planning and organising. We were a bit anxious that the tight schedule would not leave enough space for exploring the country on your own, according to your own interests - but there was enough flexibility to fit in all of our interests. We were also apprehensive that the group might be full of moaning minnies who constantly complain and annoy everyone or bellyache about everything. We were lucky here, too. We had a great group, good-humoured and ready for adventures. We simply got on well with each other. It is no coincidence that we sought to visit areas related to the Vietnam War. I guess this is typical for politically thinking people from our generation. In our youth, we marched against the Vietnam War and became part of the anti-war movement. We were brought up with images and photographs about the atrocities of the War. We watched excellent anti-war films such as Platoon, Apocalypse Now, Good Morning Vietnam and The Quiet American. We came well prepared and well informed (about the War) to Vietnam, eager to learn even more about it by visiting the sites. And it is good for Vietnam to keep up the memories and remind future generations of the atrocities. As the Vietnamese say, we forgive, but we don't forget. What we also learned is that Vietnam has moved on. The War was almost 50 years, at least two generations ago, their (great) grandparent's time. The younger people are no longer interested in talking about the War. They have their own interests and issues to deal with. Unfortunately, time was too short for us to get an in-depth understanding of what dreams, worries, cultural or economic development the Vietnamese population is now going through. But we can see and feel the country's vibrant atmosphere and enormous progress. Vietnam has a very young population. According to the 2019 Census, 21% of the population (20.4 million) are young people aged 10-24. This explains the willingness for economic progress and development. Looking at the many high-rising buildings and the many production lines of products sold to Western countries, it is easy to forget that Vietnam is a communist country. We free and individualistic thinking Westerners may not understand or approve of many things, such as the one-party system or state control in many areas of life. However, Vietnam has proven that it is going its own way. The best examples of this are the redistribution of agricultural farmland into private ownership in the '90s, the embracing of business and trade with other countries, as well as the increasing tourism, which has helped turn the country's economy around. Vietnam people are tolerant of other countries and cultures, so we are told. What they want in return is for other countries to be tolerant towards them, meaning accepting that they are doing things in a different way, the Vietnamese way. We can fully understand and endorse that. We've come to the end of our Vietnam adventure. We wonder what will come next. Lisa and Dave

Travelling can be very romantic, awakening a thirst for adventure and holiday feelings. Nowadays, you buy a ticket online at home and are on your way. You arrive at your destination on time, as planned, relatively relaxed and safe. How nice! Or rather: "How nice it would be!" In all the decades I have frequently flown within Europe and to other continents, this expectation of a traveller has usually been fulfilled. And if there were any problems, the airline or travel provider felt responsible for helping the passengers. Today, as I recently learnt on my return flight from Berlin to London, you can expect neither safety nor care. It was a bitter experience and not the only one of its kind. Deutsche Bahn - beware of the unexpected! It all started in Berlin on the way to Berlin-Brandenburg Airport (BER). On the advice of my Berlin friends, I opted for the regional train as the fastest and most reliable means of public transport to BER on the outskirts of Berlin. The problem-free journey was already over at Zoo station. The platform information board informed travellers that there could be longer delays at Zoo station and between Ostkreuz and Frankfurter Allee stations due to signal faults. A difficult-to-understand loudspeaker announcement confirmed this information every two minutes. I had no idea where the voice on the loudspeaker had its office or where I could have asked someone at the station for more detailed information. I didn't want to waste time looking for information. The phrase "could" was vague, but I didn't want to risk getting stranded somewhere in the middle of the route and only being able to wave goodbye to my flight. So a quick decision had to be made. On my last visit to Berlin, I travelled to the airport by underground and bus, much to the amazement of my Berlin friends, because the underground stops at many stations and therefore makes slow progress. The bus frequency from the Rudow terminus to the airport is pretty poor. If you're unlucky, you must wait a long time for a connection. Nevertheless, the underground seemed to be the safest form of public transport in this situation, transporting hundreds of thousands of passengers daily without breaking down. Once I was in Rudow and no bus turned up, I could always take a taxi. Now, of course, my local knowledge from decades of living in Berlin and regular visits to the city came in handy.  I packed my trolley and raced off: first down into the basement to the U9 underground line to Berliner Straße, then changed to the U7 to the Rudow terminus. No problem for someone who knows the area and doesn't have to search long for tracks, routes, and directions! The connections worked, and I got a seat despite the rush hour. The journey passed quickly, and when I came back out of the underground and onto the street after 45 minutes, an airport bus was just pulling up, and I reached it with some legwork. We reached the airport within 15 minutes. The whole journey took an hour. That's how long the regional train would have taken. I was proud of myself and took my successful problem-solving strategy as a good omen for the rest of my journey home to London. But I was wrong. Berlin Brandenburg Airport - a service desolation It was 7 pm. My flight was due to depart at 9 pm. So I had plenty of time. The newly built Berlin Brandenburg Airport has nothing in common with the convenience or the touch of luxury of other airports such as London Heathrow, New York, or even Munich. This airport has never really been able to shed the desolate image of the old East Berlin Schönefeld Airport. It feels more like a railway station: functional, a fast transit area for passengers with only the bare essentials. There are no cosy cafés or seating areas that invite you to relax and make the wait more bearable. But I wasn't planning to stay here for long anyway. However, I would have liked to buy a snack for the journey or a souvenir for my husband, David. However, the only supermarket was more of a kiosk and had nothing worthwhile to offer. Too bad, David, no German sausages this time! So I went straight to the security checkpoint with my hand luggage. The machine promptly recognised my boarding pass on my mobile phone, and the barrier opened in "open sesame" style. I walked through and joined the queue of waiting passengers at the security checkpoint. Security staff and passengers - a relationship reduced to functionality The staff were well organised, and we moved quickly. In front of me, a very busy man kept talking loudly on his mobile phone. He didn't stop talking as he packed his suitcase, watch, keys, change, laptop, jacket, liquids, etc., into the designated boxes on the conveyor belt with the help of a security officer. Even when he stood in the scanner and was patted down by another security guard, he continued his conversation undeterred. Unbelievably rude! I commented to the security officer while he was helping me with my hand luggage. He shrugged his shoulders and said I was the first person to speak to him today. Excuse me? Yes, most passengers wouldn't even glance at him and were far too busy with themselves. This shocked me, and I also felt guilty for often not making eye contact with the security staff. I resolved to be more attentive in future and exchange a few friendly words with them. I started to wonder. Is this lack of communication and interaction, even rudeness, down to us travellers? Are we focused on ourselves and our journey and snootily or indifferently ignore the people who provide services along the way? Do we no longer see the staff who usher us through long queues as people but as technical cogs in the airport operation? That would be pretty shameful. On the other hand, I have often experienced that I didn't feel like a human being during the security process before departure. Security officers and passport control officers frequently have an aura of aloofness or display authoritarian behaviour. Is it the boredom of watching the long queue of travellers pass by day in, day out and doing a monotonous job? Or envy? Or insecurity and pressure? The job requires extreme concentration to avoid any potential security risks. Every passenger must be seen as a possible risk. Is the rigid behaviour and barked instructions, as well as the detachment of the security officers, supposed to have an intimidating effect like the authority of the officials?  I remember with horror an experience at New Orleans airport when our luggage was thrown onto the conveyor belt for scanning, and my husband David tried to help the security officer. Still, the officer reacted extremely nervously, pointed a machine gun at David and called for backup. On the other hand, how good it feels when security officers smile, say a friendly word, or make a funny remark. It loosens up the intimidating atmosphere and makes it more people-friendly. When the man at the scanner at Munich airport wished me bon appétit after the grilled chicken legs that my mum had packed for me appeared on his screen, it lifted the mood immensely. Yes, even when an extremely precarious incident at Hamburg airport was resolved, the security staff and I were able to laugh heartily about the mistake. The scanner at the security checkpoint had raised the alarm because it suspected explosives in my hand luggage. Armed riot police rushed over and inspected the hand luggage under the strictest security precautions. The suspicious object was shrink-wrapped sausages that I had bought as a souvenir for my husband at the Edeka supermarket at the airport. Fortunately, we were all able to see the joke after this scene. Both parties probably suffer from the crowds. The security staff have to process the endless queues of passengers every day. The passengers are annoyed by the exhausting queuing in a crowd of strangers and just want to get through the checks and then be left in peace. This is indeed not a pleasant aspect of travelling.    After the security check, I didn't find anything inviting in the duty-free area of BER either, so I went straight to the border control and finally to my boarding gate to wait for the boarding instructions. I still had an hour to spare. Lack of Information at the airport You wouldn't believe how many information channels one has to keep open when flying from Berlin to London. My husband David and I are very well versed in this area, so I was sometimes better informed by him sitting at his computer at home in London than by British Airways via mobile phone app or the BER airport staff. And woe betide anyone who doesn't have an internet-enabled mobile phone or doesn't know how to use it! This evening, the situation was as follows: Time passed, the specified time for boarding passed, and nothing happened. David informed me at 8.30 pm that, according to the Heathrow departure list, my plane was half an hour late. Interesting. We passengers on the ground in Berlin were not informed of this. Shortly before 9 pm, a loudspeaker told us that the arrival of the aircraft from London, on which we would be flying back, would be delayed by around 20 minutes due to thunderstorms over Europe. As soon as it had landed and been cleared, we could board. Okay, so at least we knew and waited patiently. Time passed. No further information was forthcoming. Dave texted at 8.37 pm to say that he had fired up the barbecue and was grilling chicken legs that would be waiting for me at home. Nice. I was looking forward to it. I also learnt from David that our plane had already landed and that it wouldn't be long before we would leave. My British Airways app informed me by mobile phone at 9.10 pm that our flight would depart at 9.20 pm with a slight delay. Shortly afterwards, we were called to board. By 9.30 pm, I was strapped into seat 29b, in the penultimate row with little legroom where the budget passengers were accommodated. I was looking forward to departure and the chicken drumsticks that awaited me. The flight was packed to the last seat, and my trolley was in the overhead compartment in row 24, so I made a mental note not to forget it when I disembarked. Today, I wanted to treat myself to a small bottle of sparkling wine, as my visit to Berlin was great. However, after studying the BA menu, I decided against it. I didn't want to pay £8 for a 200ml sip of bubbly. I thought the price was outrageous. I could have that cheaper at home in no time. I texted Dave to put a bottle of red wine in the fridge because, in the current heatwave, our attic flat was about 32 degrees, and that was definitely too warm for red wine. I could see through the small window that it had started to rain. A friend wrote to tell me that her open-air concert in Berlin had been cancelled due to heavy rain. Fortunately, we were sitting on the plane in the dry.  Aircraft traffic jam on the runway Shortly before 10 pm (an hour late), we took off. We taxied to the runway and joined the queue of waiting aircraft, ready to take off - and waited. Then, the flight captain informed us that the Berlin airport authorities had stopped the ground staff from working for safety reasons due to the heavy thunderstorms. But, as soon as it was possible, they would resume handling the aircraft. Okay? As far as we could see from our window, it was only drizzling, and only a few flashes of lightning could be seen in the distance. Perhaps this safety measure was a little over the top, but the experts would know what they were doing. And so we continued to wait. After a while (I still had Internet), I checked the tube connection home from Heathrow Airport, given the increasing delay. The quickest was the new Elizabeth Line, which ran until just after midnight. The last tube from Tottenham Court Road Station, where I had to change to get home on the Northern Line, left at 12.34 am. That could be tight. If not, I would have to take the night bus home. Dave sent me the relevant night bus connections on my mobile phone. It would take me about 2 ½-3 hours to get home, and I wouldn't be home before 3.30 am. Dave had better put the chicken in the fridge. A taxi was too expensive for me. It probably cost over £100, which was money better spent elsewhere. Dave suggested I stay at Heathrow Airport and try to find a bench to sleep on, as the first tube would leave at 5.09 am. That would be safer than getting into a dodgy mini-cab. Good idea. I could go along with that. It certainly wouldn't be comfortable, but I could do it once. In the meantime, the plane was getting hotter and hotter because the air conditioning doesn't work when the aircraft is stationary. The flight attendants, who didn't have any more information than we did, handed out water and pretzels to cool us down and appease us. Then, an unsettling thought occurred to me: the night flight ban in London! We Londoners are glad no flights are allowed between midnight and 6 am. However, landing at Heathrow would no longer be possible if we couldn't take off in the next 10 minutes. Dave, who was in London, obviously had the same idea because he had done some research and sent me the relevant information. In 1962, the UK government imposed restrictions on night flights at Heathrow, stating that no aircraft could land or take off between 11.30 pm and 6.00 am. This rule is still in place today, but with the addition, the rule can be extended in exceptional circumstances. I reassured myself and my seat neighbour, who had shown a keen interest in my WhatsApp exchange with Dave the whole time. I was convinced that the airport authorities would make an exception, as British Airways was the national airline and would undoubtedly have priority when landing, I argued. This thought reassured my seatmate and me somewhat until I remembered that a friend had recently been stuck in London because her flight was delayed and Berlin airport closed at midnight. My online search confirmed a night flight ban in Berlin from midnight to 5 am with a flexibility of 30 minutes. It was now just before midnight. I firmly believed that the airport authority would follow common sense and be flexible enough to keep the airport open until all the waiting planes departed. Airport closure - what now? But my firm belief moved neither mountains nor our plane into the air! The captain told us we couldn't take off because the airport had closed. There were 20 aircraft ahead of us in the queue, which would now have to be processed back before us. He hoped that he would be able to reach ground staff who would let us out of the aircraft and unload our luggage. He would inform us as soon as he had more information. What now? Wait! And hope! But for what? The passengers around us became nervous and restless. Many complained and voiced their displeasure loudly. The captain told us that the Italian football team that had played in Berlin in the Europa Cup was also stuck in the queue on the plane in front of us. Later, I heard that the FC Bayern Munich team had also been stranded at BER that evening. How reassuring. So, we were not alone in this predicament.  Finally, we passengers received an email from British Airways informing us that the flight had been delayed and could no longer take off today. Well, that was no longer news. However, British Airways would cover reasonable hotel costs, up to £20 for food and drink and up to £25 for telephone costs. We would receive another email the following day telling us the new departure time of our flight. So now it was official that we were stranded. At first, I didn't know what to make of it. But I quickly concluded that this was probably the better option. I wasn't too keen on the prospect of taking a 2½ - 3-hour journey on three different night buses in London or spending a sleepless night on one of the cold and hard metal benches at Heathrow Airport. But now I was faced with the problem of finding a bed for the night from the aircraft. British Airways offered no assistance in this regard. At this time of night, I couldn't possibly wake my friends, with whom I had spent the last three nights, from their sleep. A hotel near the airport was the best option. This would also have the advantage that I would be quickly accommodated tonight and ready for departure at BER on short notice the next morning. Around me, widespread horror gradually set in as everyone realised the implications of this news. Some people went into hyperactivity; others were paralysed or collapsed. Two rows in front of us, a woman had a severe asthma attack and a stewardess attended to her. My seat neighbour to my right was booking a hotel near the airport on his mobile phone. Good idea! I should do that straight away. I asked him for the name of his hotel and set about booking there too. Unfortunately, only the booking details for the next day or night appeared on my display. The app didn't offer the option to book for the current night. I wouldn't find out the reason until later.  My neighbour to my left was luckier, and she quickly booked a room for both of us in another hotel, paid with her credit card and received the booking confirmation. Wonderful! We were saved! We had a place to sleep. We were relieved. Shortly afterwards, I received a WhatsApp message from a friend in Berlin enquiring whether I had landed safely in London. I wrote to her about our situation. She was shocked and offered to get in the car immediately and pick me up. I thanked her, saying it wasn't necessary as we had just booked a hotel at the airport, which would be paid for by BA. I later regretted this careless cancellation. But then, I didn't know how the night would turn out. I informed David of the latest developments and told him he could eat the chicken himself or put it in the fridge. He could go to sleep with peace of mind. I would contact him in the morning and keep him up to date. He was reassured and thought that was the best option.  Stranded in the chaos at BER airport However, there were still a lot of planes ahead of us, and it was foreseeable that it would take a while before the ground staff released us from the overheated aircraft. There were 180 passengers on our plane, and with 20 jets, at least 3,600 passengers were to be processed and their luggage to be unloaded. (Good thing I only had hand luggage!) Our plane was at the very back of the queue. These masses were later all in front of us at the border control as we had to re-enter Germany from no man's land; this was unavoidable. Many passengers didn't understand the logic because, in their opinion, they hadn't left Germany yet and were grumbling under their breath, arguing amongst themselves and quarrelling with the passport control officers. Small children were screaming. Hundreds of people sat on the ground, tired and at a loss as to what to do. Some were crying, and others looked exhausted, angry, and disappointed. I felt particularly sorry for the families with children who now had to look for somewhere to stay. No sign of British Airways or the Berlin airport staff could have given us help and support. We were entirely on our own. At passport control, the effects of Brexit became clear once again. As a German citizen, I could simply go to one of the almost empty electronic checkpoints reserved for EU citizens, while most people had to join the long queue for non-EU citizens. I waited on the other side too, but for my neighbour, as we had a joint hotel booking. I could have loyally stayed with her and used her passport control desk, but I wanted to enjoy one benefit of Brexit for once and not wait in a crowd of frustrated people for a while. She suggested that I go ahead to the hotel, but I thought it was better to get through this situation together. I waited and tried to remember her face, as we hardly knew each other. Finally, after 45 minutes, she emerged as one of the last passengers. We recognised each other immediately and, relieved that we only had hand luggage, pushed past the crowds of people waiting for their suitcases on the conveyor belt at baggage reclaim. We, on the other hand, eagerly joined the taxi queue. There was almost a brawl when a few people tried to jump the queue. The nerves were on edge. (Not) a bed for the night? The hotel was nearby, and after a 15-minute drive, we arrived at 1.30 am. We joined the long queue that stretched out into the street. Hundreds of stranded people were ahead of us. But we were relaxed and looking forward to our hotel bed because, luckily, we had our hotel booking and confirmation. But then we heard a rumour that all room bookings made after midnight were null and void. The hotel was full. People had been turned away. Excuse me? I couldn't believe it. Determined, I walked past the long queue to enquire at reception in person. What I was told shook my confidence in the reliability of digitalisation: Booking.com had made a mistake. The portal should not have accepted bookings for that night after midnight. The booking had, therefore, been accepted for the next night. The hotel was full. He could not help us. We would have to contact Booking.com directly to get our money refunded. But that was the least of our worries at this point. Where were we supposed to go at this time of night? Everyone who had booked after midnight was turned away and had to look for another hotel. That was most of them. We had booked at 00:07. So it affected us too. I tried to negotiate with the stressed man at reception. I asked if there wasn't a spare cupboard somewhere that he could let us use. Unfortunately, no. Hundreds of people surrounded the poor man, many with children, who urgently sought somewhere to stay. He was utterly overwhelmed and felt the concentrated anger and disappointment. We sat in the hotel lobby and tried to find a hotel for the two of us. My neighbour and new friend called the hotel where she had spent the previous night but to no avail. They were fully booked. Then we searched the Internet. But you could only book online and therefore only for the next night because you can't explain to a programme that you are stranded at the airport after midnight and now have no accommodation for that night. You can only explain that to a person, and you will need a telephone number. However, most hotels could only be booked via online booking agencies, and we couldn't find a telephone number on the hotels' websites either. If telephone numbers were given, they were 0801 numbers from call centres in the USA. They would have been just as helpful in solving the acute problem as the online agencies. That is, not at all! Gradually, a paralysing tiredness set in and suppressed the rising panic. I just wanted to lay my tired head down somewhere and was about to make myself comfortable in the lobby and sleep, hoping not to be kicked out before 5 am. One phone number - one person - one solution! But then I thought about which hotel names I knew. I lived in Berlin for 20 years and never stayed in a hotel. Even on my frequent visits, I stayed with friends. But I couldn't help but think of the name of some classic, well-known hotel! Hilton! Surely Berlin had a Hilton Hotel? I googled Hilton - and lo and behold, I found a phone number. A real person on the phone said that two rooms were still available and promised to hold them for us for the next 45 minutes. Wonderful! All tiredness was gone. We rushed onto the street, and an Uber taxi took us to the city centre. At 03:30, we checked into the Hilton Hotel on Mohrenstrasse. Shortly afterwards, at 04:00, I sat contentedly in my freshly made-up bed in my hotel room, having showered with the Hilton's fragrant shower gel and used their wonderfully scented body lotion, and savoured my mini bottle of red wine, which I had bought earlier from a vending machine in the lobby as a nightcap to calm my nerves. I set the alarm for 06:30 to check whether an email from British Airways with the new flight details had arrived and fell into a deep sleep. I received an email at 06:30 announcing the new departure time at 14:55, which meant I could turn over and go back to sleep. At 10 am, I met my new friend and fellow sufferer for breakfast. With a view of the historic building of the German Cathedral on Gendarmenmarkt, we enjoyed a sumptuous breakfast and even treated ourselves to a glass of sparkling wine to celebrate this extraordinary experience. That's how you can endure it! We were reconciled to the situation. I made myself another sandwich to take with me. An emergency supply - just in case! We took a taxi back to BER airport at noon and were pleased that we would soon be home.  Back at the airport - chaos and a lack of crisis management The airport was full of stranded people from the previous day, many lying on the floor, surrounded by their luggage. Children were either running around or crying. Many passengers had not found a hotel for the night and, therefore, had to spend the night sleeping on the floor at the airport. Even those lucky enough to have spent the night in a hotel bed were now again faced with confusion and uncertainty. Our flight did not appear at all on the electronic departure board. We began to doubt whether the information in the British Airways email was correct. However, no one from the airline or BER was here to inform us about the next steps. Some passengers had had a new boarding pass issued at the check-in counter but afterwards realised that yesterday's date had been given. They queued up again at the check-in counter to correct this mistake and get a boarding pass with today's date.  Others returned from security disappointed. They had been turned away because they had tried to check in with their boarding passes from the previous day. We were at a loss. None of these efforts had cleared the way to the gate. Had we been booked on a ghost flight that would never come? Or had we simply been forgotten? I saw no point in joining the long queue at the check-in desk and suggested that we go together to the less busy business class desk and put some pressure on there. Seven people, prepared and determined not to be turned away, marched towards the counter. This made an impression. The friendly gentleman at the counter explained that using yesterday's boarding passes was correct. He had just passed the relevant instructions to the security staff by telephone. They should now let us through without any problems. We wanted to believe him but remained sceptical. And promptly, our boarding pass didn't work at the security gate. But one of the officers took us aside, " I see, you're the stranded people from yesterday!" checked our boarding passes and passports and let us through. Phew! It takes understanding people to solve specific problems! This hurdle had already been cleared. Next, we went through security and then on to our gate. It was supposed to be the same as yesterday, C17. Indeed, at gate 17, London Heathrow was on the display board, with our flight number and the departure time of 2.55 pm. We sat there and waited. Our small group had grown in the meantime. We increasingly recognised yesterday's fellow sufferers, and they joined us. Our departure time of 2:55 pm had long since passed when someone happened to see information flash up on the display board. Our flight was leaving in 10 minutes from another gate. Nobody had told us. Full of panic, we ran with our hand luggage. I quickly gulped down my far too hot tea, as I didn't have a hand free to hold the cup, and dashed off. We didn't want to miss our flight under any circumstances. When we arrived at gate C12, out of breath, more familiar faces from the previous day were waiting. The information board correctly displayed the flight number, departure time 2:55 pm, and destination, London Heathrow, but there was no sign of any British Airways aircraft or BER staff.  We sat in an ever-growing group and waited for what would come. The mood fluctuated between hope, despair, anger, hysteria and gallows humour. We didn't even dare go to the toilet for fear of missing important information or our flight. Finally, a young lady from the ground staff at Berlin Airport arrived. Our hopes for information were bitterly disappointed as she knew nothing about our flight. Instead, she asked us for the information we had received from British Airways by email so that she could pass it on to other passengers. We hadn't received any communication from British Airways since the 6.30 am email and the BA app was silent. It was complete chaos. The departure board informed us of three British Airways flights from Berlin to London Heathrow that afternoon. But there was no mention of our flight. Had we been forgotten? Long after our scheduled departure time had passed, the BA app finally popped up on my mobile phone and informed me that our flight would be leaving at 17:00. However, there was no sign on the ground that this was reliable information. Dave contacted me from London to ask if he should take the sea bass out of the freezer for a BBQ that evening. After our experience yesterday, I was cautious and suggested we do the BBQ with fish the following day and leave the fish in the freezer. We finally got some information: our flight was due to leave at 6:00 pm. At 6:15 pm, we finally boarded the plane, fastened our seatbelts, and the aircraft joined the queue of waiting planes to the runway. The captain informed us that yesterday's crew had exceeded their working hours due to the waiting time and had stood down. He and his crew had received a call at 7 am this morning that they were to fly to Berlin as passengers on an aircraft and fly our plane back. They had just arrived at BER airport and immediately took over the aircraft. As we had already drunk the water and eaten the pretzels yesterday, there were no more supplies. But we would be leaving soon and would be home soon. That wasn't a problem for us. We were grateful to the captain. At last, there was someone who signalled that he was looking after us. At last, someone was talking to us, and we finally found out what was happening. And I was okay because I still had my bread roll from the Hilton Hotel. And sure enough, at 7:30 pm, our plane took off. We cheered and clapped. The passengers talked animatedly about how they had got on. New friendships had been forged. I was also glad I had found my young seat neighbour, and she was happy to have my support. The adventure had been more bearable as we could support and distract each other as a team of two. The flight attendants, endeavouring to calm the passengers' tempers, now offered various drinks free of charge. So now I could have my glass of champagne after all. I found that I deserved it. Shortly after 8 pm, we landed at Heathrow after a 1 ½ hour flight (1 hour time difference). At 10 pm, I was sitting at home with Dave on our roof terrace, celebrating my return with a glass of wine and enjoying the chicken drumsticks that Dave had saved for me from the day before. (LL.)  How does such chaos come about, and why is it not managed by those responsible? This experience stayed with me for a long time. Why did it all happen, and why couldn't it be better organised? Thunderstorms are nothing new. What was so special about this thunderstorm, which I hadn't experienced as being so severe? Were the health and safety regulations too rigid, was the bureaucracy at Berlin Airport too strict or the staff too inflexible? Were the flight communications between London and Berlin or European air traffic control in Brussels overwhelmed by a thunderstorm? Was it impossible to act in a crisis in the age of digitalisation? Obviously, computers can only solve standard problems. It would have taken competent people to manage the crisis situation. Entitlement to cost compensation instead of help and support The rights of passengers if a flight is cancelled or delayed are explicitly posted at every flight counter. They are also available on the Internet. Passengers are informed under which circumstances they are entitled to compensation or reimbursement, under which conditions they can book a replacement flight, and where they can find a form to get any costs incurred reimbursed. 'We will do everything we can to help get your travel plans back on track'  is what you can read on the British Airways website. This is all very laudable, but it doesn't work in the end. My BA app offered me no help, not even information on what I could have done at that moment in that place to handle the crisis well. Passenger rights after a crisis are all well and good, but concrete support and helpful actions are needed in a crisis. As a customer, I expect airlines and airports to be prepared for these crises, which are not exactly unique and extremely rare. There should be crisis plans and people in charge who implement these plans and offer support to stranded passengers. Instead, it seems that airlines and airports expect every passenger travelling by air to draw up their own contingency plans and carry them along; that every passenger knows where they can turn to, beyond the airline and airport company, and where they can obtain information. Because their contract partners do not really feel obliged to do so.   But basic information should be made available, such as lists of hotels near the airport with telephone numbers, information about local shops and shops at the airport or nearby that are open to provide basic supplies for passengers in the event of a crisis, e.g. drinking water, food, nappies and food for babies, medicines, etc. In my opinion, publicising passengers' rights seems to be a minimal mandatory exercise, as is often the case with several health and safety regulations. The main thing is that a sign has been put up saying that the floor is wet and there is a risk of slipping. If someone does slip and break a leg, it's their problem. The organisation is not at fault! The organisation cannot be held legally liable for not fulfilling its duty of care. However, the customer or passer-by must be shown a safe way to avoid danger. And the person stranded at an airport must also be offered an option for the excessively long waiting time, as in our case. Not my problem It seems that nobody took responsibility for this situation and tried to solve the problem, neither the ground staff at Berlin Airport, British Airways, Booking.com, nor the airport hotel we had booked with. Nobody felt responsible. The receptionist at the overcrowded hotel who turned us away didn't see it as his problem. He shrugged his shoulders. Sorry. It certainly wasn't the first time someone had to book a hotel in the middle of the night. The system could not respond and accept a booking for the night after midnight. Many of the big hotels advertise 24-hour reception. So why can't you phone these hotels to explain the emergency situation to someone and either get a bed for the night or at least help find one?  It looked to me like British Airways had made it easy for themselves. In their email, they informed the passengers of the delay and offered to pay for any reasonable costs incurred. That's it! Duty fulfilled! The airline no longer felt responsible for solving the problem; that was the responsibility of the passengers. They should take care themselves of by finding a hotel or somewhere to sleep. This was not a problem for the locals, who went home and slept in their own beds. But the majority of the passengers were tourists or visitors. They were strangers in Berlin, had no home there and didn't know how to organise accommodation quickly at this time of night. They were left alone with their despair and panic by their contractual partner, British Airways. There was no crisis intervention by airline representatives or BER staff; at least, I didn't see anyone. Those whose job was to organise a new flight for the next day failed hopelessly and acted unprofessionally. The email from British Airways at 6:30 pm informed us of the new departure time at 2:55 pm. But, as we later learnt from the pilot, the captain and his crew had only been told at 7 am (1/2 hour after the email to all passengers) that they were to fly from London to Berlin as passengers and fly the plane and passengers back to Heathrow. They only arrived at Berlin airport shortly before 6 pm. It should already have been evident in the morning that a departure time of 2:55 pm could not be adhered to. Why wasn't a crew informed during the night when the take-off had to be postponed to the next day, or at least a later and realistic departure time scheduled? Were we passengers to be kept waiting or kept busy? If it had been evident earlier that the flight could not take off until the evening, some passengers would have had the opportunity to book alternative flights to keep their urgent appointments. Like the woman in the row behind me, for example, who was desperate because she was stuck at Berlin airport all day with her daughter and couldn't get to London in time to attend the official farewell of her retiring husband. Another woman missed a long-planned hospital appointment. Others, like my seat neighbour on the right, could not meet their work commitments, had to notify colleagues, delegate tasks, postpone appointments and worry about their jobs, to name a few cases. A contract is a contract British Airways and the airport are responsible for the passengers. Purchasing a flight ticket creates a contract to which both parties are bound. The tickets are expensive enough and include airport duty. But nobody at the airport felt responsible or made any effort to help. The young woman at the boarding gate, a ground staff employee at Berlin Airport, was unaware of the situation. So she did the obvious thing for her: she asked the passengers about their knowledge so that she could pass it on to other passengers. That was probably the maximum she could do on her own initiative. Otherwise, she was perhaps waiting for instructions from higher up. It seemed to me that she was not even annoyed about her lack of knowledge of the situation and the fact that she could not help the passengers. I wonder whether this was her failing or whether she resigned herself to the fact that such situations are part of her everyday working life. Because there's nothing you can do anyway? Because that's just the way it is? Because nobody knows who is responsible for what anymore? Because even as a staff member you can no longer avoid the digital communication channels? Because you can't get any sensible answers beyond standard questions? Empathy replaced by indifference I am an experienced traveller and am not easily flustered. I'm used to solving problems and usually take challenges in my stride. But what about those passengers who are not so experienced? I have seen many desperate and panicked people during these hours. What about those who don't have an internet-enabled mobile phone or a BA app? Who can't be informed of the new flight time via email? What about people with mobility problems or children travelling alone? How can you leave vulnerable and needy people to their own devices in a crisis and expect them to manage somehow and sleep at the airport if necessary? Where is the pride of the employees who want to handle passengers, their customers, competently and safely and get them from A to B? It is a strange development in which interpersonal relationships seem lost. Empathy seems to have been replaced by indifference; an indifference to the fears and concerns of passengers and an indifference to the inability of airlines and airports to adequately manage a crisis and solve problems.  In the age of digitalisation, are we so used to the computer taking care of everything? Is no one aware that software programs can optimise standard processes but that the problem-solving skills of competent and experienced people are needed for exceptional cases? Can no one imagine that a sympathetic contact person is extremely helpful and comforting in a crisis? Or are we so convinced of the infallibility of computer-aided organisation that we have handed over responsibility for solving problems to this seemingly higher intelligence? And suppose this higher intelligence has no solution. In that case, we humans feel incapable of finding a solution, do not want to exceed our competencies and pass the responsibility and blame for the failure unapologetically on to the technology. We are not to blame, we are not responsible, and we are not sorry. Well, the romance of travelling is truly gone. PS I got my money back for the hotel from British Airways. But I didn't get any compensation because the reason for the delay was a thunderstorm - a natural event (an act of God) for which no one can be held responsible. (LL.)   Lufthansa at Munich Airport treated its passengers stranded on two flights on 3 to 4 August 2024 due to 'technical irregularities' and 'operational reasons' similarly rigorously. The airline announced that the Munich hotels were fully booked due to the tens of thousands of fans who had come to Munich for the Adele concerts. Passengers reported in the Süddeutsche Zeitung that the service desks were closed after this announcement to passengers. Luggage was not returned to stranded passengers for the weekend while they waited. New departure times were not communicated, but - at least - blankets were distributed to passengers. No further comment is necessary. Source: https://www.sueddeutsche.de/muenchen/muenchen-lufthansa-fluege-ausgefallen-hotels-adele-lux.BjuTYccNKfjKyT1fdaTGGW

-Munich 1953 until the 90s- (DE) On the morning of 3rd August 1953, I stood proudly and excitedly before the Bauer carpentry workshop in Kazmairstraße on Schwanthalerhöhe in Munich, where I was to start my apprenticeship. Nobody was there yet. In my mind, I went through my parents' instructions again: Pay attention, learn, don't be rude, be friendly and polite! When the journeyman finally arrived on his bike, I greeted him with a polite 'Good morning' and introduced myself as the new apprentice. 'Lad,' he replied,' I'm going to make your apprenticeship as sour as possible!'  Apprenticeship years are not master years  Naturally, I was very shocked and offended by this threat. I hadn't done anything wrong yet, and what would this guy say or even do if I did something wrong?  During the three years of my apprenticeship, I no longer trusted this journeyman, although he occasionally showed his more peaceful side. I remained distant. I can't say whether he or the boss really made my life as sour as possible because, as an apprentice, you had to do what you were told without argument. And nobody cared how the orders were given. I accepted it as inevitable but didn't let it affect my self-esteem. But the journeyman could never persuade me to go on any mountain hikes with him and his friends. I owed it to myself and my pride.  I don't think this journeyman ever thought about how to educate and deal with young people. In the 50s and 60s, the most important thing people thought about was showing children and young people boundaries and making them subordinate. Schoolchildren were allowed to be beaten by their teachers. The saying 'apprentice years are not master years' was common at that time and meant young people should not get the idea that they deserve individual rights and respect!  In the spirit of that time, I did what I was told. I even did jobs I could barely manage based on my strength. For example, I regularly had to fetch panels from the Hochstraße in the east of Munich on a two-wheeled cart because the carpentry didn't have a lorry. That was about five kilometres across the city and then back again with the loaded cart. When I had to heave the heavily loaded barrow up the Theresienberg to Kazmairstraße, I would hardly have managed without the help of friendly passers-by. But complaining was not an option. You just didn't do that as an apprentice.  Besides, not only did I enjoy the carpentry trade, but I will never forget the first money I earned myself.   8 DM weekly wage   As a first-year apprentice, I had eight marks a week in my pay packet, which was always placed on the circular saw on Saturdays, just before the end of the day. I used my very first apprentice's salary to buy myself ice skates. (Food prices in 1954 for comparison)  When the basin of the Nymphenburg Canal was frozen in winter, young and old people would meet there to skate to the beat of the music by Rudi Schurike, Willi Hagara and Bulli Buhlan. A loudspeaker provided sound for the skaters on the ice, who danced to the hit list of the 50s.  Even today, people still skate on the Nymphenburg Canal in winter, but without music. Groups meet to play curling or ice hockey. This tradition has been preserved in the Neuhausen-Nymphenburg district.  When I was 16 years old, I earned a bit more and could buy a Viktoria moped on instalments from the Kocian bicycle shop at Frundsbergstraße 13 - 15 with the help of my parents. There is still a bike shop in that house today.  Motorised in this way, I reached my training workshop more comfortably and could meet friends in other parts of Munich. One of them gave me my first sexual experience with a girl. It wasn't really romantic, but it was effective.  First sexual experiences   This older friend often had a storm-free weekend because his single mother, a tram conductor, regularly worked shifts on Sundays. On Sunday afternoons like this, we would get two bottles of 'Insel Samos' wine from a nearby builders' canteen, which was open on Sundays, and drink them together with his girlfriend, Maria. Usually, at some point, the two would disappear into the bedroom. But one day, my boyfriend thought I should learn about lovemaking. He left the bedroom door ajar so I could overhear their lovemaking sounds. Then he called me to join them, and it's fair to say that nobody had to enlighten me from then on.  In the 1950s, sexuality was an absolute taboo in public. If you consider the extreme reaction by the church and politicians to the brief flash of Hildegard Knef's naked skin in the film 'The Sinner', my first steps into the world of physical love must have been extraordinarily condemnable and naughty. However, as is always the case when morals and taboos are held exceptionally high in society, very few people abide by them. People continue to do immoral things in secret. According to an official survey from the early 1950s, pregnancy was the reason for marriage for three-quarters of those who wanted to get married. Contraception was not openly discussed.  A few years later, when I met the love of my life, we unsurprisingly didn't abide by moral rules, and our son was already three months old when we got married in August 1960.   For us three young people, however, our first sexual experiences back then had no consequences. After a few more delightful Sunday afternoons, sometimes also with a friend of Maria's, we lost sight of each other. Our lives went our separate ways, which is quite common with teenage friendships.  Higher wages for unskilled labour in the industry   In any case, I completed my carpentry apprenticeship on 22nd September 1956 and worked for almost another year as a journeyman in the company where I trained. Business was good for Bauer Carpentery at that time. We had many lucrative orders from churches. I often worked in the Bürgersaal church in Neuhauser Straße in the centre of Munich. However, the owner of the carpentry workshop was already well over 70 years old and couldn't find a successor to take over the workshop.  At the end of the 1950s and the beginning of the 1960s, craftsmanship lost its golden touch, as the saying goes. Industrial production conquered the markets. So, it was clear that this traditional craft business would soon close.  However, the wage gap between small craft businesses and industrial companies was critical for us workers and craftsmen.  The weekly wage for a journeyman in the 1950s was 53.76 DM gross. With a 48-hour week, that was an hourly wage of DM 1.12.   One of my friends worked as an unskilled knitter in one of Munich's many stocking factories and earned DM 2.40 an hour. I didn't have to think twice about it.  Less than a year after my carpenter examination, I gave up the job I had learnt. I now took finished stockings off the 12 machines at the Hadi stocking factory in Winzererstraße daily, hung them up and transported them to be packed.   The textile industry became a significant economic factor in Bavaria, mainly due to the founding of companies by refugees and displaced persons from the former eastern territories and Eastern Germany (GDR) at the end of the Second World War. In 1955, there were around 1380 textile companies throughout Bavaria. In particular, the production of nylon stockings generated large sales figures in the 1950s due to its fashion. In 1957, the number of people employed in the textile industry in Bavaria peaked at 119,688, and I was one of them.  I didn't mind the monotony of the work because, as a young man in the era of the economic miracle in Germany, I had many dreams I wanted to fulfil. For example, I could buy a roadworthy but damaged NSU Lambretta from my friend Alois and lovingly refurbished it. We even planned trips with this Lambretta. The world was open to us.  And because our labour was also in great demand, I changed employers again, namely to the Tauber stocking factory on Biederstein. Here, we worked 60 hours a week in shifts, which increased our weekly wages considerably. 144 DM gross per week, that was very good! You could do a lot with that!  I thought I would use my well-paid job at the Tauber stocking factory to build a livelihood and enjoy life in my free time.  But things turned out differently! A strange note was posted on the notice board in the entrance area one Monday. Payments to creditors had been cancelled. But the employees shouldn't worry because of the company's excellent business situation.  It was true; the shop was buzzing. Production was running at full speed, and despatch took place as usual. Turnover had probably not collapsed. So what reason would there be to close the factory?  On Wednesday of the same week, I worked the day shift and experienced an absurd scenario. Unknown business people entered the machine room and identified themselves as creditors. They took the Perlon bobbins and yarns from the machines. This stopped the work process.  We workers demanded clarification, but neither the management secretary nor the union representative knew anything. The company owners, Mr and Mrs Tauber, were absent and could not be reached by phone.  When the bankruptcy administrator turned up late in the afternoon, we finally received information about our situation:  The company was practically bankrupt and had filed for bankruptcy. The bankruptcy administrator had to give notice to every employee, and a letter to that effect would be handed out later. However, the notice period of 14 days had to be observed, and everyone had to turn up for work every day during these two weeks, even though there was nothing left to do.  So we sat in the halls, played cards and watched the creditors take away the inventory and machines. It was an absurd situation.  Mr Tauber and his wife, had gone abroad and could no longer be legally prosecuted for the delayed bankruptcy. One of the main creditors, probably ruined by the bankruptcy, committed suicide, according to press reports.  All employees were made redundant and had to look for new jobs at the end of the notice period. A takeover and continuation of the business was not planned and was no longer possible due to a lack of machinery and inventory.  'On the dole'   So at the end of August 1958, I was out of work, registered as unemployed and had to go to the job centre on Thalkirchner Straße every week to 'sign in'. During this time, unemployed people had to go to the clerk at the job centre once a week to ask for work. If no suitable job was available, you got a stamp on the back of your registration card and received your unemployment payment at the cash desk on the ground floor. In my case, that was around DM 58 per week. That was quite a lot of money these days. I was still young and unattached back then, lived at home with my parents, had hardly any commitments and therefore felt like I was on holiday during the first two weeks of my unemployment.  Of course, the clerk at the job centre knew the job market in Munich very well. He also knew that a young man like me with training and work experience would have no problem finding work if he wanted to. That's why he called me a 'lazy dog' when I approached him to either be offered a job or to get the stamp for the unemployment payment. At that time, it was not an offence for an employee of the job centre to insult an unemployed person; instead, the unemployed person felt ashamed and stigmatised. So did I.  After two weeks - and on my own initiative - I got a job at the Haaser & Co. hosiery factory in Augustenstraße in Munich's Maxvorstadt district.  Dreams and decisions   Now, I was back at work and planning a several-week-long holiday trip to France with my mate on my NSU scooter. Such a trip abroad was a dream, and we had a lot to think about: what was essential to take with us, saving money and exchange our DM into francs, checking the expiry date of our passports, finding out about cheap accommodation in travel books or agencies, getting maps and a German-French dictionary ... Back then, there was still a border between Germany and France. There were still different currencies in Germany and France, and there was no internet to consult or mobile phone to help you find your way around and communicate abroad. Information had to be painstakingly gathered, or you had to set off on the off-chance and then solve the problems on the spot.  During all these preparations, I came across a pretty distraction. She had blue-grey eyes, and I fell in love with her immediately.  As with almost 20-year-olds, you can't tear yourself away from the person you love when you fall in love. I found myself in a dilemma. Should I go away for a few weeks and leave my Marianne behind in Munich, or should I stay in Munich and not have the wind blow on my face on the faraway roads or see France?  I usually asked my father for advice when faced with such difficult decisions.  He suggested I stay with my girl and spend time with her if I really loved her.  What can I say? I didn't see France until much later in life. Instead, I became a father to a son in May 1960 at 21 and a husband in August 1960. We said yes to each other in St Anthony's Church in Kapuzinerstraße, and we celebrated our wedding in a modest setting at the Frundsberg restaurant in Neuhausen.  This year, 1960, really had it all because the Bundeswehr, founded in 1955, as the army was called from 1956 onwards, also asked for me. I received my conscription notice.  Unrecognised conscientious objector   'Never, do you hear me, never pick up a weapon!' my father had told me over and over again because of his own war experiences. I didn't want to serve as a soldier in an army myself. So, I looked for ways to escape the compulsory military service. I sought advice from Jehovah's Witnesses, who have years of experience with conscientious objection. But that wasn't as helpful as the support of an SPD (German Social Democratic Party) man from our circle of acquaintances who knew about the legal situation.  On his advice, I refused to undergo the medical examination and was given a certificate of fitness grade 3 'after external assessment'. (see document left) I had not allowed myself to be examined by the doctors at the conscription board. Of course, as a conscientious objector under Article 4(3) of the German Constitution, I also had to answer questions about my conscience in front of an examination board, which, as expected, asked me questions like: 'What do you do when there's a fire?' There were no 'right' answers to such questions, and I didn't find any. Therefore, I am officially an unrecognised conscientious objector and could have been called up.  (see the following document) However, they obviously had no use for me because the alternative civilian service had not yet been set up, and I would have been a nuisance in the army. So, I was spared from military service and planned to build a life for myself and my family.  The impact of the block formation on my life  But this was thwarted by the State's regional economic management. The formation of a bloc between East and West and the Cold War between the European states led by the USA and the Eastern European states led by the Soviet Union resulted in the Iron Curtain being lowered along the border with the Czechoslovak Socialist Republic (CSSR) and the German Democratic Republic (GDR). The final division of Germany began with the construction of the Berlin Wall in 1961.  In Bavaria, the areas along the border with the (eastern) German Democratic Republic and Czechoslovakia were now 'zonal border areas'. The previously lively economic relations with eastern Germany and Czechoslovakia no longer existed, and the trade routes were largely blocked.  There was hardly any work in the towns west of the 'zone border'. Many travelled to the big cities such as Munich, Nuremberg and Regensburg to work week after week and only returned to their villages at the weekend. Others turned their backs on their homeland and settled further west in parts of the country where the economic miracle was in full swing, where there were jobs, schools, modern shops and leisure facilities.  To prevent impoverishment in the border zone, the Bavarian State supported the border region with economic programmes intended to make it attractive for businesses to settle here, for example, by subsidising wages.  My employer, Haaser & Co., therefore relocated its production from Augustenstraße in Munich to Furth im Wald in the Upper Palatinate district in 1961, right in the centre of the border zone with Czechoslovakia.  The company management asked me to go with them to Furth im Wald for the time being to train the new workforce. The boom in stocking production in Munich was slowing down noticeably at this time. Closures and migration to rural regions were the order of the day. So I went with them to the Upper Palatinate.  During these months, my little family often visited my parents-in-law's farm in Loipfering in Lower Bavaria. This way, I could at least manage the 110 kilometres between Furth im Wald and Loipfering over the weekend to be with my family. Between Munich, where we lived in a room with my aunt in a typical traditional flat at Maistraße 4, and Furth im Wald were almost 200 km. At that time, there was no motorway, so one had to drive along minor roads and through villages. The journey would have taken far too long for a weekend. You also have to bear in mind that people were still working on Saturdays back then.  I had known that I wouldn't have a future with Haaser and Co. in Furth im Wald, but the fact that they sacked me a few weeks before Christmas after I had completed my work there really hit me. After all that hard work, I would have loved to have received my Christmas bonus.  Parcel deliverer - a vocation  The Christmas period is not the best time to look for a job. So, I was unemployed for a while, and it didn't feel like a holiday this time. After Christmas, I secured an employment contract as an insurance agent at Frankfurter Versicherungs AG. I was now often out in the evenings and at weekends advising customers. Neither I nor my wife enjoyed such a life. This work was definitely detrimental to family life.  The year 1962 also held some positive surprises for us.  Our little daughter Brigitte was born in October 1962, making us a family of four.  Because life with two children in one room was very stressful, my mother used her connections with the housing association in Neuhausen. As a result, we were awarded a 65-square-metre flat at Erhard-Auer-Straße 8, which we moved into in November 1962 and where we still live today.  However, I still had to continue to work as an insurance agent until March 1964. I am a positive person and always look for and find the good things in everything, but my dissatisfaction with this job grew and grew.  My father, who had already worked as an employee and later as a civil servant at the Deutsche Post (the German Mail Office) after the war, persuaded me to work there too.  I had never dreamed of becoming a civil servant. It was definitely not my career aspiration, and I couldn't imagine what a post office job would be like.  But I followed my father's advice and became a parcel deliverer at the post office in 1964. It turned out that this job was my calling. The independence at work, namely in the Postbus on the roads in my district, getting to know and dealing with my customers, gave me great pleasure throughout my life.  In 1970, I became a civil servant, and in 1995, I took early retirement with a heavy heart following the privatisation of Deutsche Post.  I have experienced a lot and gained unique experiences in all these years.  Experiences from the world of parcel deliverers  Together with a colleague, I will tell what it feels like when you want to drive off in a fully loaded Postbus but suddenly have the free-swinging gear lever in your hand. Or why does a parcel delivery driver sit in the car and cry? We also want to tell you about our good relationships with our customers, about the 'Rosenkavalier' (the Knight of the Rose, an opera by Richard Strauss), the hero of everyday life and about the search for recipients on the large construction site of the hospital in Großhadern.  (HB)  Sources and background information on the contemporary phenomena mentioned:  Further information on the history of education and pedagogy:    https://www.br.de/nachrichten/deutschland-welt/pruegelstrafe-in-deutschland-ein-historischer-rueckblick,TGOW2Et    https://www.deutschlandfunk.de/pruegeln-verboten-vom-langen-kampf-fuer-die-kinderrechte-100.html    https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schwarze_P%C3%A4dagogik    In the 1950s, the education of children and young people was strongly characterised by the ideas of enlightenment education, which aimed to drive out the feral nature of children and young people and instil reason. From 1977 onwards, there was a name for this violent pedagogy, which also relied on intimidation: Black Pedagogy. (Katharina Rutschky, ' Black Pedagogy ' )  It was not until 1973 that corporal punishment was banned in schools in the German federal states and in Bavaria only ten years later. In 2000, the following was enshrined in Section 1631 of the German Civil Code: ' Children have a right to a non-violent upbringing. Physical punishment, psychological injury and other degrading measures are not permitted. ' It is also interesting to note that corporal punishment in schools was abolished in Finland as early as 1914, in the German Democratic Republic (GDR) in 1949 and in the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG) only between 1973 and 1983.  _____________________________________________________________________ Further information on prices and purchasing power in the 1950s: https://www.was-war-wann.de/1900/1950/preise-1954.html    To better appreciate the value and purchasing power of the 8 DM apprentice salary, some selected food prices from 1954 are listed here: 1 kilogram of butter/ DM 6.32; 1 kilogram of pork/ DM 5.19; 1 kilogram of coffee/ DM 27.50; 1 kilogram of potatoes/ DM 0.45; 1 egg/ DM 0.22;  _____________________________________________________________________  Further information on morality in the 50s:   https://www.ndr.de/geschichte/chronologie/Vater-Mutter-Kind-Moral-und-Frauenrolle-in-den-50er-Jahren,frauenrolle100.html    According to official surveys, in the early years of the Federal Republic of Germany, almost three-quarters of new marriages have a child on the way. However, pregnancies were not openly discussed, and pregnant bellies were hidden under flowing maternity clothes. According to the prevailing morals, sexuality was not an issue, recalls Hanna Laux: ' I didn't talk about sexual matters with my friends either. We were pigtail girls, shy and harmless to the point of ' no more ' . ' __________________________________________________________________  Further information on the textile industry and hosiery production in Bavaria:   https://www.historisches-lexikon-bayerns.de/Lexikon/Textilindustrie#Wiederaufbau_nach_dem_Zweiten_Weltkrieg    In Bavaria, numerous hosiery companies specialising in the production of fine Nylon stockings ventured into a new start, such as Elbeo from Saxony, which first moved to Augsburg, or Kunert from Bohemia, which settled in Immenstadt. Even the well-known textile company Dierig relocated its headquarters from Langenbielau (Bielawa) in Lower Silesia to Augsburg, where it had already owned the Mechanical Weaving Mill on Mühlbach since January 1918. Of almost 1,380 Bavarian textile companies in September 1955, around 42% were owned by refugees and displaced persons, most of which were small businesses. The Bavarian textile industry grew in the wake of the so-called economic miracle. By 1957, the number of employees had risen to a peak of 119,688. In Augsburg alone, 17,500 people were employed in this industry. (...)  The year 1957 marked a momentous turning point in the history of the German textile industry, as the volume of foreign textile imports exceeded the volume of German exports for the first time. These imports initially came from Western Europe, such as France and Belgium, and over the years, they have also increasingly come from Eastern Europe, such as the German Democratic Republic (GDR), Poland, Czechoslovakia, Romania, and Bulgaria. The liberalised foreign trade responsible for this - together with the reduction in customs duties - began to negatively impact Bavarian textile companies, which often had a low export quota. This was the beginning of a profound structural crisis in the textile industry in Bavaria. __________________________________________________________________  Further information on conscientious objection in the FRG:   https://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kriegsdienstverweigerung_in_Deutschland#Grundrecht    https://www.bpb.de/themen/militaer/deutsche-verteidigungspolitik/203136/die-wehrpflicht-eine-historische-betrachtung/    The fundamental right to conscientious objection was enshrined in the German Constitution in 1948. However, this did not mean that the State created appropriate structures for dealing with conscientious objectors after rearmament and the founding of the Bundeswehr in the Federal Republic of Germany (FRG). __________________________________________________________________  Further information on the borderland programme in the 1960s:  https://www.historisches-lexikon-bayerns.de/Lexikon/Grenzlandproblematik_(nach_1918)#Das_Bayerische_Grenzlandprogramm_von_1954    https://www.historisches-lexikon-bayerns.de/Lexikon/Grenzlandproblematik_(after_1918)    The Bavarian border region was severely disadvantaged economically by the Iron Curtain on the border with Czechoslovakia and the GDR. The Bavarian state government, therefore, launched programmes to support the region's economic structure.