Paris - 26.01.2025 - 28.01.2025

 Can you believe that I have lived in England my whole (nearly) 42 years of life and have not once visited our neighbours in Paris.

Well okay… once…. But I was a small child and I only remember the pink castle and the rodent problem. 

The idea was spurred from an ad for cheap Eurostar tickets. £39 each way for selected times within the next couple of months. Well, ‘now’ seemed good, so that wasn’t a problem. And having never experienced the Eurostar itself before either, I was powerless against the double-whammy of new experiences and limited time savings. So off I went.

Saturday 25th January 2025

In my younger days I felt certain that the earliest possible arrival time was undoubtedly of most benefit. Arrive in a new location, and make the most of the day before checking into the hotel.

These days after travel I am grumpy, tired and disheveled and there is no guarantee that I will be remotely willing to use the time after arrival for anything other than decompressing in the hotel room, so if the flight/train tickets are notably cheaper later in the day, that is when I will invariably go. 

They were. I did. 

I completed the usual part-time Saturday hours at work before grabbing the train at 15:45 from Dartford train station straight to Kings Cross St Pancras. Once there, the Eurostar was helpfully signposted and very easy to spot upon arrival. The security and passport checking process was not remotely dissimilar to airports. 10 minutes of waiting uselessly in a queue before hitting the conveyor belt and suddenly having to shed layers, bags and separate electronics into relevant crates all before the person behind you gives you the stink eye. 

I have yet to win this game. 

Once through, fully clothed (hair looking like I have fallen out of a tree - mid layer jacket potentially inside out) I find that the difference between Eurostar and an airport is that there is now nowhere else to go to kill the time, barring one shop selling overpriced sandwiches and magazines. I take a seat in the lounge area and with utmost Englishness attempt to evade all eye contact. 

It is dull.

It is not as dull as the train ride itself. 

The wi-if on the Eurostar doesn’t deserve to advertise itself as wi-fi. I had maybe 9 seconds of connection each time before my series buffered. It physically hurt. I resigned myself to my downloaded music and occasional small talk with the woman next to me with whom I was already annoyed for having usurped my pre-booked window seat. I didn’t say anything. Again, English. Plus - the aisle had its benefits. The cafe cart was the next cart down, and it had wine in it. So very shortly into the journey, so did I. 

Got along better with my Parisian seat-usurper after that. I don’t think she even realised. She had a couple of small bottles of wine herself after seeing that they were available for purchase, and was clearly borderline traumatised by some errand that she needed to complete for work in Paris.

So what the hell. Let her have a prime viewing platform by the window, so that she can visually enjoy her doom and inevitable failure hurtling towards her at a rate of 180 miles an hour.

That’s what she gets for stealing my pre-allocated window seat. The bitch.

I mostly left her to it. a little bit of small talk here and there, but I had my ear phones in and was in my own little bubble mostly.

See - I was told by a number of people before I went that Parisians are cold, rude and aloof.

They didn’t have a patch on me! 

All I wanted was to be left alone - They all wanted to chat. In my time there I encountered nothing resembling rudeness and certainly no aloofness. By my standards (grins somewhat awkwardly)

After my Vienna travel ticket confusion I am prepared this time. I have an online ticket, purchased daily from the Bonjour RATP app for 12 euros. It’s on my phone. Saved to my Apple Wallet. I hold the phone to the laser checker on the gate and the gate opens! Et voila!! I’m in Paris and my daily train ticket actually works. 

It is closing in on 20:30. I catch the magenta RER line directly to my hotel in the 8th arrondissement - Hotel Charing Cross - and am settled (*collapsed on bed, huffing at ceiling) within 30 minutes. 

I do not leave the hotel room for the rest of the night.

 Before I move on to tomorrow - I heartily recommend this hotel. I methodically research my itinerary before I travel and when it comes to sourcing hotels I take into account cost and locality/travel connections over all other commodities. This hotel cost me 368 euros (around £307 GBP) for 3 nights on the trip.com app. Admittedly nothing of interest was on its doorstep barring the Saint-Lazare train station - which serves as a central point for most - if not all - of the local train lines. From this station across the road from my hotel I had a short single-journey train ride to pretty much everywhere in Paris. I could not have chosen better for my needs as an efficient economy-conscious traveller with a focus on experiencing as much as possible in a very limited amount of time.

The hotel room itself was the cheapest I was able to find both in the hotel, and in general with such good transport connections. The room was small, but had everything a tourist would need. A comfortable double bed, power points, kettle, en-suite bathroom. The heating and water, btw, both worked spectacularly well. This is something that I have a special appreciation for, having experienced budget European city breaks in the 90’s.

For a solo traveller I absolutely endorse and recommend this hotel. If I return to Paris, I will return to this hotel.

But for now sleep. Wonderful, wonderful sleep….

Sunday 26th January 2025

….F&^%it, Too much sleep!!

My tour is 30 minutes away and I have woken up 30 minutes ahead of my tour. 

Atop of that, the RATP app is now playing up and not allowing me to download today’s ticket. So my run to the train station now incorporates a detour to the help desk where they are kind enough to sell me a physical train card at just 1 euro extra. In my panic I get on the train in the wrong direction and… lets just say I miss the first 45 minutes of the tour and entirely miss out of Sacre Coeur cathedral. 

Not the stairs, mind. My group were all at the top of those bloody stairs.

Do you know what I really didn’t need atop of waking up late, not being able to download the essential travel card I needed for the day, getting the train in the wrong direction before circling back and running at as full pelt as was manageable whilst juggling a bottle of water in one hand and google maps in the other? 

Stairs! A %^$*-ton of stairs is what I didn’t need!

Nonetheless, I am here. Such a friendly group. They all seem genuinely thrilled that I have finally managed to make it. 

Sacre Coeur is beautiful, from what I can see of it through the beads of sweat dripping into my eyes. Possibly the most beautiful thing I see in Paris for my time there. Apparently it is made from Chateau-Landon stone, which produces a liquid that self-cleans the stone whenever it comes into contact with water. 

Sounds to me like it’s slowly dissolving in the rain, but I haven’t looked into the science of it yet. 

 The tour continues onwards for a walk through cobblestones Montmartre, which is a quaint and lovely little neighbourhood built upon the highest point in Paris. Apparently it used to be something of an Artist’s haven, but few can afford to live here anymore since it became ‘fashionable’. 

Of course that then leads into a coffee stop for a 20 minute break. The coffee house in question doesn’t look especially ‘Parisian’ in style and I don’t yet require sustenance so I take off across the road to the grocery stall where I purchase my customery breakfast items of bananas and clementines to get me through the next couple of days. I am invited by the store owner to the back of the room to pet a very contented sleepy cat who is lounging on a shelf full of blankets. It’s cute. I don’t know why the cat is there, nor why I am and why I have to pet it, but I appreciate the sentiment of the gentleman trying to spread a little joy. See? Parisians - randomly pleasant. I’M the cold and aloof one. Me. Have you bagged up my bananas yet??

He has. I leave. The tour continues. We are on and off the trains as we take selfies outside of the usual hotspots - The Arc De Triomphe, The Louvre, Moulin Rouge, Notre Dame etc… all culminating of course at the legendary Eiffel Tower. 

At the distance we were, the tower was recognisable but unimpressive. When I left the tour group I pootled immediately to get closer. 

It’s big.

Apparently it needs to be repainted every 7  years or else it will succumb and decay to rust. That sounds like a lot of work. Not perhaps THE example I would have gone with as a showcase of French industrial ingenuity, as it was originally intended to be, but it’s still…. It’s still pretty big.

 Next I pop onto a bus to the Palais Garnier Opera House for a nosy around. It is truly spectacular. Its grand staircase and somewhat unusual angles make it look like that last Bowie scene in Labyrinth. Further punctuated by multiple randomly dotted electrical candelabras it really does appear like a dreamscape. And at the top of those stairs, is the Grand Foyer - built in the reminiscence, so I am told, of the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles. Having not yet been to Versailles I am forced to accept that this is so far the most beautiful room I have ever seen. 

I am not too proud or shy to appreciate beauty. If I see something of appreciation, I appreciate it. I take

my time. I take it in. I give it the due respect. But this is the first time I have been bought to a standstill and rendered breathless by a ROOM.

It is exquisite. The art, the gilding, the sheer intricacy of every square inch of the place, all set off magically by warm-lighting chandeliers. I possibly walked up and down the room in a stupor no less than a dozen times before forcing myself to leave for the next stop on my itinerary. 

Which was the Musée de Cluny - home of The Lady and the Unicorn tapestries I have had a fondness for since seeing The Last Unicorn as a child (not the same tapestries. They are in the Cloisters USA. But of a similar likeness.

I pick up a fabulous snow globe on my way out. But by now I am limping. So I limp into the nearest establishment with Steak Frites on the menu and refortify with food and wine. Hey, It’s France! 

 As evening falls I stroll down the bank of the river Seine and enjoy the illuminations until I reach the pinnacle of them - The Eiffel Tower - Which not only is now lit up but actually ‘sparkles’ for the first 5 minutes of every hour. It actually does glitter. Sometimes when you see things on video - particularly in this age of AI - one doubts its authenticity. But the Eiffel Tower truly does sparkle. You can’t see the lights. It just sparkles. It’s captivating.

So much so that I am late for my river cruise - which also looks to be leaving late. And heaving with drunken excitable tourists. It does not look pleasant. I bail. The only thing I wanted to see that I have not seen already is the Pont Alexandre III bridge. Which I take myself to by train.

 I’m there. Meh. It’s a bridge. Though in fairness I have now walked nearly 13 miles today and the pain in my feet may admittedly be dulling my appreciation. Not so much that I don’t take some joy in witnessing a number of 20-somethings dancing - actual traditional, 30’s twirling, lala Land ‘dancing’ - on the bank beneath the bridge outside of a bar that I would like to be remembering playing some kind of suitably themic Parisian jazz but was in fact Aqua’s “I’m a Barbie Girl”.

 Meh, I’ll just ensure to remember it differently. So long as I don’t write it down anywhere….!

Virtually crawl back to my hotel. It’s 10:00pm and I am done. 

Monday 27th January 2025

I wake up in pain but in less pain. I’ll take it! Bananas and Clementines along with my home-bought Graze flapjack for breakfast then I’m ready to go!

I have a pre-booked ticket for the Louvre museum at 09:30. That allows me to join what they promise to be the shorter/quicker line via the carousel entrance as opposed to the Line-of-Doom already congregating outside of the main pyramid entrance. 

The line is still vast. But, to be fair, does move along quickly. Even with airport like security at the front of it, I traverse from the end of the line to the museum foyer in around 30 minutes. 

 And I am immediately perplexed and underwhelmed.

I concur that The Louvre is pretty damn huge.

However I can’t help but note that this is largely on account of the use of space being entirely inadequate. 

There is a huge open mall-esque platform occupied by a number of staircases and escalators leading to further staircases and escalators leading to a further empty platform.

It IS huge.

I have yet to ascertain if it actually contains any art 🤔

Eventually it does. If you climb enough stairs and escalators. It didn’t help that I chose the opposite direction to everyone else, and ultimately found myself in a large white room full of large white statues and nothing or no one else. Which might have been pleasant if not for the increasingly ominous feeling that I had somehow slipped on one of the many escalators and found myself sequestered in some marble purgatory awaiting a judgement I am not so naive as to suspect is going to be ‘glowing’. 

Oh wait, Chinese dude! Follow the Chinese dude!

Found people. Not dead. Just lost. Wow, statues are not popular!

I pootle down the stairs and across the mall-esque lobby to the opposite set of stairs where all the people in Paris appear to have been congregating this whole time at the feet of a headless winged statue - The Winged Victory of Samothrace. It appears to be a big deal. I frankly don’t see how it suitably rivals the best of the ignored statues across the lobby from here, plus doesn’t have a head, but what do I know of art? I’m mostly just here for the selfies. 

That in mind - I find the Mona Lisa. I take a photo. I leave. 

Again, noted, that painting took skill that I don’t have, and I respect it. I just don’t see why it is considered better than some of the downright glorious wall-sized murals right outside the room that everyone has walked right on past to get there. 

I peruse a little. But now that I’m not lost on some negative space I do concur that the Louvre is too big to get through in the morning, and I have places to be. 

So I leave after a couple of hours to board the ‘Bustronome’ tour of Paris from a bus that also serves lunch. And wine. Glorious wine. 2 glasses at a not TERRIBLE 8 euros per glass levels me out over the duration of the tour.

The first course is Salmon Gravlax with honey vinaigrette and goats cheese and is delightful! It leaves me very hopeful for the following courses. Which is a shame. 

They weren’t awful. They just weren’t as exceptional as that first course. Cod in tomato risotto, followed by a blanquette-style veal stew and rounded off with a chocolate profiterole. Which I did enjoy. But no more than if I had bought one from Greggs.

I did, however, get to take the weight of my feet and sip wine while cruising lazily through the streets of Paris for a couple of hours, and I very much enjoyed it. For £55 I did not feel that it had overreached its value. 

After lunch I find the Natural History Museum - as is my custom when exploring any new city - largely for the dinosaur section. Alas - No dinosaurs! The info desk advise me that the dinosaurs are kept in the Paléontologie museum across the garden from here. And I will need to purchase a separate ticket. Sonofa….

Still, we are here and we experience Paris’s approach to a Natural History Museum in its own right. And this is exactly what I enjoy about museums. Particularly a specific theme of museum such as Natural History. No matter our language, heritage, culture or traditions, the human race as a collective are largely in agreement regarding ‘what an elephant is and does’ which sets up a controlled environment to now see just how differently each national museum conveys said elephant.Will they depict it as a magnificent bull elephant towering powerfully over the heads of its kin? Or a baby elephant, playing and running? Will it be a taxidermy elephant? Or a painting? Or a photo? Will it be built out of Lego? It’s genuinely interesting to see how different cultures convey the same information.

 So. Museums! And here I am in the Natural History Museum of Paris.

It is the most unique of all the Natural History Museums I have visited to date. In my opinion - for all of Paris’s many charms - its NHM is comparatively underwhelming. 

It’s not unpleasant! At time of walking in I walked into the underwater section. There is muted blue lighting in accordance with this. There are gigantic whale skeletons and taxidermy sharks and some of the less known deep sea fishes that I couldn’t unfortunately read about because everything is in French. When you cast your eyes up to where the ceiling should be you note that there is no ceiling - at least not for the floor - but there is a red/yellow light indicating the sun and the land to be found on the next level. 

And that’s clever. I do like that. The museum is sectioned into floors, so you have the underwater world at the bottom, the birds and sky at the top and a range in between. And the mood lighting matched each floor. I liked all of that. 

And because the museum is open plan, once you get to the top you have a pretty awesome view of everything on every lower level. 

But it is pretty small given the vastness of the theme, it doesn’t have dinosaurs and for me it’s just far too modern. Natural History Museums tend to be given a reverence - a traditional house of office passed on through the ages from a time when each block was of significance directed by a passionate and educated architect and forged by a master craftsman. This place is glass. 

Sigh. Let’s find and pay for that palaeontology museum then.

Oh good. A huge room of death. 

I mean I guess… Palaeontology and bones n’all… I just didn’t expect a vast parade of animal skeletons taking up the entirety of the room. 

It’s definitely unique. And I do find my dinosaurs, but there are only a couple of them. I leave to find food. Then I shamefully have to bail on my last 2 booked events for the day - the Ghost Tour and the singles pub social because I just can’t walk anymore. I google the nearest recommended Steak Frites which takes me to the Bistro Des Victoires. Very fatty steak but very flavourful. Their creme brûlée was bliss-inducing. The ambiance - crowded but - though I don’t have enough experience of Paris to say ‘Parisian’ I definitely would have known that I was not in England. That’s always a welcome treat when travelling.

Would I go back? I prefer a leaner steak myself, but their reviews were sound and well deserved.  

Hotel. Paracetamol. Sleeeeeeeep.

Tuesday 28th January 2025

I conclude my trip with a visit to the Paris Catacombs. I splurged around £85 on a guided tour as the reviews all seemed to insist upon it. I watched people walking past with £20 audio guides and regretted my choice. 

 I do like a tour guide. Ours was great. Plus we had access to a couple of gated off sections that others didn’t have, including on section containing an alter which - given the fact it was surrounded by a roomful of unidentifiable skulls and bones and none-too-many witnesses - I found vaguely unsettling. But what you gain in having someone to tell you stories and answer your questions, you lose from having your own pace to enjoy a completely unique environment that you have never visited nor may never visit again. For this, I would have chosen an audio guide and a leisurely pace.

The activity itself feels downright sacrilegious and disrespectful. Each one of those many thousands of skulls was an actual person who lived as full a life with meaning, opinions, love, family, values, faith and adventure as you or I, now reduced to wallpaper. It didn’t lack in profundity - which is another reason I somewhat regret the timed tour guide experience. If one were to go there at all, the occasion deserved more reverence. 

That said, it did remind me to enjoy what we have while we have it, because what we have is of the briefest value and only really to us.

Spend it wisely. 

I personally spent it on Steak Frites at the Italian restaurant I enjoyed so much on Sunday. Off home now. See you at the next one guys. 

20.12.2024 - 22.12.2024 - Vienna

Pre Holiday summary

In my younger days I never saw the appeal of European holidays. Too cold. Too gloomy. Too close to home. But since I hit my 40s (Jesus, how did that happen??) I suddenly have this new door of interest open up. A place I have never been before, with things to see and learn that I might not see and learn back home, all without having to (necessarily) empty my bank account or eat into my precious annual leave. 

A month ago I visited Berlin for the first time. It immediately left me hankering for more. With little more consideration than blindly sticking a pin into a European map I chose Vienna as the next victim* (*Location)

I did throw open the invitation to the same guys who joined me for Berlin, but had no takers, and am not unhappy to have this trip all to myself. I can forge a more punishing schedule for myself than I can for a group, and have lost no time in doing so.  

20.12.2024 - Having somewhat recklessly planned my flight to Vienna for the afternoon following my work Christmas party, the slow journey from Ebsfleet Train Station to Stansted Airport and then onwards to Vienna is accompanied by a slight headache and nausea. With or without a hangover I will be avoiding leaving from Standsted Airport going forward. Considering it ‘just another London airport’ transpired to be deeply misleading, requiring a trains journey from Ebsfleet to Stratford and then a 30-40 minutes Coach Journey (departing every 30 mornings, and missed by mere moments in each direction) from Stratford to the Airport.

One most enjoyable touch to Standsted Airport was the live band singing Feliz Navidad beneath a glorious Christmas tree as I was arriving to the security section.

The journey through and from the airport was otherwise as one expects it to be. Even at its best security is never entirely painless, with an impatient and slow moving queue of people either side of you as you endeavour to remove your belt, coat, additional layers, bags and electronics immediately upon laying ones hands upon the crate, but the rest was uneventful.  

I overpaid on the trains at Vienna airport, as I initially purchased a standard train ticket with a view to taking the S7 train from the airport to the city centre. However, this train appeared to leave from platform 3, which in turn appeared to only cater to the more expensive CAT train upon immediate inspection. More limited on time than on Euros at the time, I instead purchased a further CAT ticket and embarked upon the train that was already on the platform. 30 minutes later at around 20:30 I pootled out of Stephanplatz Station to the most glorious view of St Stephens Cathedral amidst a city of Christmas lights in all directions. Vienna is very pretty at Christmas. 

My hotel - Hotel Wardl - is just 10 minutes walk away. The single room - the cheapest I was able to find 

in the city centre - is tiny, but has everything I need and I love it. I nonetheless drop off my none essentials and swiftly abandon it in favour of exploring the local area for the final hour of the Christmas Markets 

being open for the evening. 

Fortunately Christmas Markets in Vienna at this time of year transpire to be more difficult to avoid than 

to find, and I stumble upon 3 of them - including the epic Rathausplatz Christmas Market with a view of the City Hall gloriously lit up, framed by the colourfully festive arch entrance, with a vintage carousel to the side. It makes for a very fetching festive photo op. 

Back in my hotel for midnight and asleep within moments. Zzzzz

  

21.12.2024 - 

Busy day today. The included hotel breakfast is a very serviceable buffet of fruits and pastries, with the addition of warm scrambled eggs and sausages. At 09:00 I pootle out for the 2 hour Vienna City tour for an overview of the locality. Then I check out the Austrian National Library and the locality connected Globe and Esperanto exhibits. Then the Natural History Museum to get my customary ‘dinosaur in a new city’ pics before indulging in some music in the tourist trap Mythos Mozart.

Pizza and beer at Danieli  restaurant before the Christmas concert at St Peter’s Church followed by a final 2 hour “Ghosts and Legends tour of Vienna” ending at midnight. Then sleep. Wonderful, wonderful sleep.

22.12.2024

I’m checking out today. Leave my bag with hotel storage and pootle out at 09:30 to check out the Prater amusement park. I’m early and its raining - everything is closed and grey - I am not amused so I pootle back to district 1 to check out the Kunsthistorisches Art museum until its time to head back to the airport. 

05.10.2024-07.10.2024 - Berlin

 These notes will be relatively short, as for this period of time I was no longer maintaining my blog. But for the sake of consistency I will endeavour to paste something across from my facebook notes.

This trip, albeit just a short weekend break, is special in that it is the first one that I have invited a group of friends along to. More to the point, the first one they have agreed to join me on. Likely the last n’all, considering what I put them through. Allow me to elaborate. 

05.10.2024 - Friday

Finished work at 17:00 and travelled immediately to our air BnB in Luton with my work bestie Charlene, because in booking I had the genius idea of booking at 06:30 flight to make the most of the day without considering that there would be no trains to get us to the airport at this time. I had an option of a ridiculously expensive taxi journey or a bed closer to the airport. Found a sofa bed for £23 and considered this to be the solution. Charlene opted for a slightly more expensive room in the same property and Becca also joined us in the 3rd and final room. After dinner and multiple train cancellations Charlene and I finally got to the bnb after 22:00. 

06.10.2024 - Saturday 

We were all (barely) awake for 03:00 to Uber our way to Luton airport at around £20.00. Still cheaper than the Uber from home would have been. I think the girls would have appreciated more sleep. I myself am fairly well acquainted with irregular sleep patterns at least on a short term basis, so was happier with the arrangement than I suspect my ever patient but long suffering companions were. 

The plane departed at around 06:30 UK time and landed at around 09:30 German time. We caught the RE8 train (very easy to find and direct from the airport to the city) and reach our hotel of Maritime ProArte in very central Berlin by around 11:00am where we met our final companion Dan. He showed us around the local area before we joined our 3 hour walking tour at 12:00

The tour guide Philip was incredible. Passionate and knowledgeable - the tour actually went over by over an hour. The whole team was nursing sore feet, ankles and legs in general by the end, but I learnt - so - much! (it admittedly that I knew so little in the first instance. I have always avoid the gloomy subject of war, which was of course a large part of the theme along with the Berlin Wall and the subject of socialism, so I had more to catch up on than my more learned companions)

By 16:00 we were all desperate for a little R&R time back at the hotel. We reconvened at 18:00 for a steak dinner at the Block House, which I cannot recommend enough. We then meandered back past the various light installations that had been set up temporarily against most of the famous Berlin monuments to celebrate the 20th Festival of Light on our way back to the hotel, whereupon after a walking 12.5 miles and 4 hours sleep we all retired to our separate rooms and fell into respective comas. 

07.10.2024 - Sunday

First thing this morning I drag to crew to the Natural History Museum to see the Guiness World Record Largest mounted dinosaur skeleton. A Brachiosaurus of course. It is truly magnificent. The rest of the museum is of course excellent, but having Londons Natural History Museum as my base camp NHM has made it somewhat impossible for any other cities contribution to blow me away. 

We then pootle around the city, visiting the DDR museum during the day and the Oktoberfest celebrations at the Hofbrau Wirtshaus in the evening (before finding more steak, of course. The pub was excellently engaging and served bear in 2-pint glasses, but it’s culinarily offerings of ‘anything you want, so long as it’s sausage’ didn’t quite strike our bells) before meandering back to the hotel past more light installations. 

08.10.2024 - Monday

This morning Dan and I set off earlier than the others to check out the Reichstag Building. It is a spiralling ramp within a large glass dome, and is essentially an ascending viewing platform of central Berlin. The audio guide talks us through the various scenes and monuments in front of us as we reach them. It also talks a little about the Bundestag or German parliament, which is in the chamber below the Reichstag building. One of the amenities mentioned in the audio guide is the old zoo, which apparently hosts one of the most extensive species of animals in the world. Seems rude not to check it out. We reconvene with the girls, and do so.

It is a very lovely zoo and the animals are very clearly healthy and well cared for. There is indeed a very good array. It takes us around 2 hours to walk around at a somewhat purposeful pace. 

We then catch our train back to the airport at around 15:00 and depart at 17:45. 

31.01.2024 - 13.02.2024 - Northern Lights Cruise - Norway

 Objective Summary

Since I want to log my own memories but at the same time am mindful that there are people who use these logs for their own pre-journey research, I begin with this summary - sans my own experiences and ramblings along the way, with a hope that it might assist others in my wake to put together their perfect trip, just as I hope to learn from others experiences ahead of my own future endeavours.

Firstly. It’s cold. It IS the Arctic - at least for some of the trip - so this should not come as a surprise. But HOW cold it is, might. I packed 3 pairs of base layer trousers - 1 silk, 2 merino wool (1x L, 1x X-LARGE to fit over them) on the days I did excursions up north (ie Dogsledding) or the nights I spent significant time outside viewing the Aurora Borealis, I wore all three underneath my thermal ski trousers and I could then call myself comfortable. For the top half of me I wore a short sleeved merino shirt, a long sleeve merino jumper (at least 260 weight) a Large Zip up windproof jumper and an X-Large windproof lip up jumper under a waterproof coat with a hat and gloves before I could call myself comfortable. The gloves need to be substantial. I had fingerless gloves with a mitten attachment for my camera, which was a compromise I had to make for my photography, but my fingers quickly suffered for it. So did my nose. You might consider a balaclava or one of those hats that have a combined facepiece. It’s not just cold - its so cold it feels like you face is being stabbed with thousands of tiny shards of ice. That said, I am told that our trip was an unprecedented 10 degrees colder in all areas than it usually is.

The restaurant staff are lovely. Nadine, keriann, Josefine, Elene and Tomas. 

That’s the upstairs staff. I kind of got the impression that all staff from deck 4 would rather we all got out and swam. There was not even a token smile from a single member of staff at the door upon my return from excursions. That said, I guess they aren’t paid to be service staff. To them, answering the door to us is just a pain in the ass job that keeps them from doing what they are actually paid to do. None of us like those jobs.

Sea Sickness. You might think you don’t get it. I thought that. I’m not prone to such things. I politely recommend that you take something with you just in case. It takes up barely any space or weight in your suitcase and it can make or break a couple of those rougher days. We encountered Storm Ingrunn on our Northbound journey. Particularly being on the highest passenger deck, I felt like I was swaying in the branch’s of a palm tree. I was fine. I really was. Then really rather suddenly I wasn’t.

Pack walking studs - Yaktrax are popular. I did. I didn’t wear them, thinking my purpose designed very expensive walking shows would be perfectly adequate for the task. I slipped on ice a few days in at Bodø and twisted my ankle so badly that I was limping for the remainder of the holiday. Trust me, spending an hour every morning crying whilst trying to summon the strength to power through the pain enough to put on your shoe is no way to relax. Wear them. Walk with caution.

Food - For those of us who would describe that limit of their culinary adventurousness to be a cheeseburger with mushrooms instead of onions, this trip will prove to be an experience. A very positive one. The round trip menu offers a number of staple items that do not change throughout the trip, but the northbound and southbound menus change depending on the region you are cruising through. I tried Reindeer Broth, had Ratatoille for the first time, Pannacotta for the first time, Cloud berries and sour cream for the first time, and in my endeavours to eat healthier gave seafood much more consideration than I normally would - trying cod cheek, halibut, Char, prawns and mussels at regular intervals alongside my staple of Harvila’s crispy potatoes (chips. They have chips) I enjoyed everything I ate - even the things I ordered out of intrigue but with a fair degree of certainty that I would regret.

IF you are not so inclined to explore outside of your culinary comfort zone there is the Havila Cafe, which - and I had to learn this from a fellow passenger, because it was not made known to be by Havila themselves - if there is a cup symbol next to the item on the menu, it is included for Havila Voyage cruise passengers (that’s us!) It includes burgers. normally great news for me, but I did not learn this until day 10 of my 12 day voyage, and by that time I was committed to culinary exploration. But it is an option. Let it be known by all who travel with Havila in future cruises.

Excursions - uh, can’t really help you there. The busted ankle saw to that. The only excursion I FORCED myself to go on was the Dog sledding at Kirkenese. It was pleasant. Fun even. Worth £245? Well at home, no way in  hell, but when abroad one is expected to pay through the nose to experience what they are unlikely to experience back at home. I did. I’m glad I did. The ride was gentle but pleasant through a very picturesque landscape and the dogs had such very lovely natures when I worked down the line to thank and snuggle each of them at the end of the ride. DO please give the dogs some love. They work hard and they appear to genuinely enjoy the micro doses of affection between rides. The excursion also included viewing the reindeer and a visit to the similarly located ice hotel. 

Ports - same as above. I didn’t get off at any barring Bodø and Kirkenes because my limited mobility not only made an uncomfortable experience of it, but also impeded my ability to get to and from places in the time I would normally set myself. Too much risk. And frankly, I came for the Northern Lights and the Dog-sledding. Having already accomplished my intended itinerary I was very content to henceforth remain in the snuggly warm ship watching the view go by while I alternated between my audio book, music, writing, reading and periodic micro gym sessions. 

Passengers. I came here for intentional solitude. I have a very people-centric job and fairly chaotic life and 2 weeks of unplugging was what I needed. And mostly I got it, having been quite (politely) frank to people about my intentions to remain in my own company. Irrespective (though I didn’t conduct a physical head account) I would guesstimate that there were perhaps a maximum of 200 cruise guests on this voyage, and over 11 days of being consistently in each others company in relatively small surroundings, you grow familiar with one another. Whether it’s just a friendly “good morning” in passing or a full blown discourse on the Lights, View, Food or Weather each time your paths cross - You will not feel alone. Even if you really, REALLY want to. (That last part is an exaggeration. People were very courteous and mindful of other peoples space. Chatter was easily had if invited, but also space was to be had if one opted not to involve oneself)

Activities / entertainment - There is none, per se. You want to play games or watch TV, bring your own. but there were enough excursions, ports, amazing views and a speckling of talks in the conference centre to keep those who require stimulus from bouncing off the walls. I was fortunate enough to find myself - purely coincidentally - upon an Astronomy Cruise. By this, at this time, this meant that we had an Astronomy Lecturer from the Royal Astronomical Society Ian Ridpath on board who provided near-daily lectures on various astronomical themes such as (of course) The Northern Lights, Constellations, When we walked on the Moon, Lunar and Solar Eclipses etc. My understanding that there is also a spot of star gazing on deck after sundown but on the occasions I was up there it was either cloudy or focused on the Aurora Borealis. Again I had the good fortune to run into a fellow passenger who was passionate about the subject, so I got my stargazing session in irrespective. The same will likely be for yourself. Under these circumstances passengers become friends, and there is always someone to learn a little something from. 

Summary of trip and recommendations done. The following are for my own memory and are likely of no interest to anyone other than myself. Feel free to bail now, but I hope that my experiences help you to design your own perfect trip!

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PRE HOLIDAY

It was a last minute thing. As usual I had saved up the bulk of my annual leave for some worthy occasion that never happened and ultimately wound up with 11 days I needed to use up within 3 months. 2.5 months really, since my working opposite had done exactly the same. 

Figured some kind of holiday was in order, since the alternative would be to sit at home for 2 full weeks fretting about the accumulating work.

Since my travel options were limited to between January and March before my annual leave reset, this seemed an ideal opportunity to strike the Northern Lights off my Bucket List. I have always put it off due to the expense of the holiday. I nearly did a number of times this time also.Being a solo traveller put the price up yet further and when I first starting looking into options even the cheapest options were coming out at in excess of £3500. By the end of my day of research and compromising I had a full board cruise and flights package at £2049. Still gut-wrenchingly hefty, but much more acceptable from where I started and a somewhat justifiable expense for an ‘experience’ rather than a mere holiday as well as for 2 weeks where ‘technically’ I would not have to pay for anything else. (I immediately purchased a dog sledding excursion at £249, and consequently entirely annihilated this justification, but I still had the ‘experience not holiday’ thing to full back on)

I also initially sought to book with Hurtigruten, who have been established in the trade for as long as I can remember and have a Northern Lights guarantee that if there are no Northern Lights during the tour, then you will be given a further 6 day tour for free. Further research revealed that newer company Havila provide the same promise, with the addition of new ships with more of a focus on passenger comfort, and were £200 cheaper to book with than Hurtgruten. Once booked in with Havila (via the kind assistance . of Suitcase Traveller, through-which I discovered the difference between Havila and Hurtigruten in the first place) the jittery restless feeling of an indecision went away and I was looking forward to the trip. 

THE HOLIDAY COMMENCES

Hurricane!

Yup. The alerts pop up on my facebook feed the day before I leave, incurring the inevitable panic of mass contacting any and all parties to check whether it is still going ahead - if I need to contact my travel insurance - yadda yadda yadda. My tour operator assures me that they have heard nothing from Havila to indicate that the trip will be cancelled. This does little to alleviate my panic and I sleep very little that night, waking up with a headache. I nonetheless power on through to the airport with a sense of muted commitment rather than holiday excitement. Which, looking back on it seems a shame, but I recognise that at the time, not knowing what the future would hold, my emotional responses were limited.

DAY 1

My first night is spent in Bergen. I did a walking tour. The tour guide described Bergen as the rainiest city in the world, and I have seen nothing to evidence the contrary so far. Fortunately since all the guests on the tour were aware that their travels would be taking them into arctic territory, we were all dressed for a snow avalanche, and therefore rain was water off a tourists back.

The background concerns regarding the storm continue. Havila have now contacted my tour operator to confirm that the ship cannot make it all the way down to Bergen, but that they have arranged for all travellers in Bergen to be chartered by plane up to meet the ship at Trondheim, where it will continue its journey northwards from there. By 16:00 that afternoon we are all on a Havila booked coach tot he airport, and by 20:30 we are all on the plane bound for Trondheim.

There are 4 coaches. Thanks to a combination of - as ever - having one of the last bags to arrive on the conveyor belt and  a generally complacent approach to getting to the next point of the journey, I find myself on the fourth one, at which point I realise that the limited astronomy lectures are going to get snapped up by everyone on buses 1 to 3 along with the most preferred lunch allocations.A concern further compounded by update  from the Havila representative that the coach will be being held back to avoid a crush of people at the ship all arriving at the same time. It’s sensible. Again, in hindsight I respect Havila’s forward thinking.But at the time all that is going through my head is ‘i don’t even stand a chance now’.

Fortunately upon my (rather dismal) arrival it is close to 23:00 and it is asking a hell of a lot from the Havila’s staff to have them take down everyone’s preferences and requests atop of the general check in and late night meal. So all bookings are being held off until tomorrow. Yay! I’m still in the game. 

DAY 2

The next morning I am up and atom at 06:00 ready to hit the breakfast room dead on 07:00 to get my preferred meal slot. I even have time for a teeny-bopper attempt in the gym before I head down. I get the latest meal slot (no more early mornings for me on this holiday) and a table all by myself (my own request) as far away from other people as possible. The lady - she did good. Upon entering the canteen I was about to ask for a certain table to be mine, when i realised that it already was. Table 32. As lonely a table as there ever could be. Perfection!

Breakfast is perfectly lovely, but unremarkable by comparisons. Scrambled eggs and breakfast sausages with beans and toast. I finish it and set off to explore the ship. Don’t get far. Find a gloriously comfortable highbacked chair by a  artificial fireplace right next to the panoramic window at the bow of the ship. This - I have decided - will be my new home. I grab my iPod and DSLR and set up for a morning of general tinkering and procrastination…

I cast an eye over the excursions list. I guess this is my acceptance of my age,, because where once there was a time where I would be frantically trying to crowbar every new experience into my schedule, now I just feel a little hard done by that I will have to leave the comfort of my new hides-hole for the dog sledding that I have already booked.

Just as an aside, in my attempts to be a loner in a quiet corner of the ship, I appear to be socialising more than anyone else from the number of ‘Good mornings’ I have exchanged with passers by. This I can handle. Smile. greet. Move on. If this is cruise socialising, I’m good with it. 

All is not idyllic for long. By evening the storm that we were meant to have passed while it continued south and we continued North has somehow nonetheless spread out and caught up with us. Walking on the ship becomes a Thrill Sport - you will take a perfectly normal step but then the ship will surge with a wave and the ground will no longer be where you anticipated it to be. There is a lot of embarrassed laughter and sideways veering. People fall sick before I do, but I do. I fortunately retain my wits for long enough to enjoy the Northern Lights Astronomy Lecture I was so set upon signing up to, but I am straight up to my cabin after it. I didn’t think I needed to vomit per se but I took time to the bathroom just in case and ‘hey, what do you know!’. Bed. For 10 minutes. Then an announcement comes over my cabin tannoy inviting all passengers to the conference room for an update on the journey. I don’t want to move, but it could be too important to not know, so down I trundle once more. The plan is for us to skip the multiple stops from Trondheim and simply cruise straight to Bodo with a view to outrunning the storm that is on our heels. I like this Captain. As sick as the up-down-side-to-side of the sea battered ships travels are making me, I pumped my savings into this bucket list trip to travel as far North as feasible in order to increase my chances of seeing the northern lights, and North we are damn well going to go. 

Nonetheless, when the expeditions officer leading the conference moves on to excursions and other non-essential information I take the hint from my warning shot dry-heave and excuse myself once more to my cabin.

At this point I am starting to see the downside of my perfect cabin choice of 7301. I am pretty much among the highest cabins on board and we blow in the wind like the branches of a tree. Ironically the rocking motions ultimately nurse me to sleep. 

DAY 3

I am awoken at 06:30 by the tannoy system announcing that we have crossed the arctic circle overnight and are now settled outside the 2nd largest Fjord in Norway for 15 minutes for a photo opportunity. The sea has settled, the ship is calm and so is my stomach, so I pootle up to the outside observation area on deck 9 to to a very awesome and picturesque panoramic view of snowy mountains all around us. Well worth the early morning layering. Pootle to breakfast and offer for a less rich variety this time - the 5 a day bowel (2 cherry tomatoes, some slices of bell pepper, lettuce, cucumber and some other green leafy thing), a bowl of muesli and 2 pastries before meandering to observation deck 8 to watch the fjords go by. I prefer the full window views of deck 6 - unobstructed by the safety rail of the outside viewing platform on deck 8 - however, I DO like that on deck 8 you can sit at the very front of the ship on a swivel chair - because then you can turn in the chair like Patrick Stewarts Captain Picard and say ‘Make it so!’ (Yes - I do this in my head more than once. To the rest of the passengers I must look akin to a dog chasing its tail)

At 10:00am there is the Arctic Ceremony. It is PURE gimmickry but what else ya gonna do. I pootle back outside on deck 8 to watch braver (stupider) people than I volunteer themselves to have some dude with a fake beard ladle iced water down the neck of their shirt (even the back of their trousers in some instances) in exchange for a free shot. 

I’ll BUY the shot, thank you.

In fact, no I won’t, remembering my fragility the evening before. There is nothing in this experience for me. I stick around for the mirth and the intermittent squeals, take a few photos of the surrounding fjords, then head back downstairs to the cosy warmth of the viewing platform with a flask of ginger tea. The view unfortunately is somewhat obscured by thick and low cloud cover but the journey is smooth and the passing waves are cathartic. It gives me opportunity to type and research Bodo possibilities.

Oh yes, that reminds me. At 13:00 we are scheduled to reach Bodo. Apparently today 3rd Feb marks the opening day of the Capitial of Culture Year ceremony in Bodo, so there should be things to do. Let’s see what I can find. 

Leaving Bodo at 15:20 tomorrow Sunday 4th feb. Second largest town in Norway.

You wouldn’t know it. I zig-zagged through the town before walking up and then back down again the length of the promenade. It is about as big as my hometown and I had completed my explorations - at least of the main portion of town - within an hour. 

To be fair, it is probably a perfectly lovely pit-stop for travellers with companions, to get some non-cruise affiliated food and drink. It just doesn’t offer much in the way of exploration. 

I head back to my cabin as the sun falls at around 16:00 and download a self-guided walking tour of Bodo for the next day. 

DAY 4

Disaster! The self guided tour doesn’t take me very far at all before I slip on ice, and with a very disconcerting crack twist my ankle behind me.

Hurts like hell but when I finally summon the gumption to attempt to put weight on it, I just about manage to. Each time I do is excruciating and I can barely hobble my way back to the ship, but I convince myself that if I’m putting weight on it at least we’re not looking at a break. Anything else time will heal. More or less. 

I head straight to my cabin and after taking far too long to be able to take off my shoe I phone down to reception and request an ice pack to attempt to pre-empt the swelling. The lady from reception kindly brings up one of those prepackaged ice packs, which you take out of the packaging, then break/shake before holding to the area in question. Mine leaked little white balls all over everything and didn’t do much at all to soothe the area. I finally resorted to actual ice in a carrier bag, kindly provided by the ever helpful Nadine in the restaurant reception. While icing the area I caught the attention of (some) sympathetic and (mostly) rubbernecking passengers, among whom was Leroy - and American who used to be a sports physiotherapist. He kindly wrapped my ankle with the bandage I was provided by the Havila crew (who had absolutely no idea what to do about me) 

 Through Leroy I ultimately met Gary - who I encountered again in a further conversation following the daily group catch up. He kindly provided me 3 days worth of Tylenol and some little blue tablets which he said would help with the swelling. Most gratefully received, I don’t even care how cautious one should be about accepting random drugs from random strangers. One tablet or the other makes the pain go away within 30 minutes. I now understand - and entirely support - addiction. (I jest. But only a little. Tylenol rocks!)

Gary also kindly purchased me a glass of wine as he retrieved his own drink to take to his early meal slot with him. It didn’t occur to me to ask if one ought not drink wine with Tylenol until after I was half a glass down. Well, that should be a fun little experiment! 

DAY 5

Should be dog sledding today. As it took me over an hour to put on my shoe before breakfast, the breakfast concierge Nadine came upstairs to check on me and subsequently recommended that upon shoring at Tromsø I instead go to the hospital to have my ankle x-rayed.

I do, because common sense should prevail and I have been a touch concerned myself. I advise my

insurance company while Havila kindly arrange me a 15:00 booking slot at the hospital and book me a Taxi for 14:30. Everything is very efficient and I am at the hospital before 15:00. Take a number and am called into reception a short time later where they take some basic personal information and some details on the fall before sending me back in the foyer to await the consultation. Am called in by the consultants a short time later who is very kind and has a great smile and sense of humour  (If I met this gentleman on a daily basis it might have turned into a crush) and he feels over the area before confirming that an X-ray is in order. He writes me up a form and sends me to department B6 - which I cannot easily find alone in a hospital labelled purely in Norwegian but eventually do. They take my photo ID and eventually call me in to X-Ray the ankle. Inconclusive ultimately. Might be a fracture. Might not be. Can’t tell for sure past the bruising and swelling. Will need to do a CT scan to know for sure, but if they do I will miss my cruise leaving port. This is not an option for me. Everything I have bought with me is on that ship. They provide that if I can put weight on the ankle it is not going to be a major fracture or break, which is ultimately enough for all of us for me to be on my way. A taxi is already fortuitously outside, and upon my approaching it, it drives towards me and saves me the walk. Very smiley and helpful man who doesn’t speak much English but recognises the address I hand him. As is the way of taxi’s, the meter increases very quickly and I confirm the price early in the journey, stating that I paid 286 NOK to get there and that I hoped it not to be much more to get back. He provided that this would not be a problem and it was ultimately around 220 NOK. 

Back at the ship for just before 18:00 when its scheduled set-off was 18:20. Whew!

Lots of walking today. My weakened ankle has taken a hit from it and I spend the time until my 20:00 dinner quasi-napping in my cabin. 

No one really makes it past my table over dinner. Everyone wants to know the results from my hospital visit. It is kind, but awkward - because ‘Inconclusive’ is a pretty disappointing update to give. I attempt to provide the positive spin that we have at least ruled out any major fracture or breakage as I have been able to put weight on it though. Gary catches me on route to my cabin and kindly replenishes my supply of Tylenol and that little blue tablet that is supposed to make the swelling go away (Christ, I really do need to get into the habit of at least what asking what drugs I am accepting off effective strangers before downing them like fizzers - but right now pain prevails over all decision making. And Gary seems a little too intent on converting me to God to be roofy-ing me)

Back to Cabin for not too long before the Bow camera I keep on the TV screen in my room shows a green glow emanating in the sky. Could it be?? I’m en-route to the deck when the tannoy announcement confirms that the Aurora Borealis is present and best seen from deck 8 towards the front of the ship.

…. That’s it?!

 Okay, so I’m gonna level with you in a way that no one else who has ever bragged about seeing the Aurora Borealis seems inclined to. It’s not a surreal neon-green rapid swirling and snaking across an alien-looking sky. It’s grey and cloudy looking. 

I did expect this to some extent from the previous astronomy lecture received on the subject a couple of days previous but this… what has everybody been losing their shit over all this time?

It does get better as the night progresses and as my immediate sense of underwhelm wears off. The fact is, these swirls in the sky ARE the brilliant greens and reds depicted in the camera images. It is just the the camera lenses more sensitive to the respective wavelenghts than our ill-equipped human eyes are. therefore, there IS a surreal alien sky swirling over our heads - we just need the medium of our camera lenses in order to perceive it. Grey or not - my awe is back in place and I am back up onto the icy deck several times until the early hours of the morning capturing the ever changing swirls with my phone camera. I go to bed with “I could have danced all night” from the king and I randomly singing in my head, and wake up the next morning feeling like a schoolgirl in love. Lifelong aspiration accomplished.

DAY 6 

Yesterdays ‘excursion’ around the Tromsø hospital and to, from and around deck 8 for the Aurora Borealis shenanighans  has definitely been a step back from my weakened ankle. It hurts to put weight on it again and I am relegated back to the crutches to get down to breakfast after taking - yet again - far too long to get my frikkin shoe on past the pain. 

I am grateful to not have an excursion booked for when we make port at Honningsvag at 11:00am. 

Many people leave the ship at this time. From what I can see out of the window there does appear to be a whole bunch to do if you do not have the excursion booked, but I can understand that if walking is as easy as ‘not walking’ (cocky bastards) then you might as well walk and explore a new port for the few hours that you are there. I have a good window though, and I have seen enough ports already to know that anything that is English or Tourist -friendly is going to be a gimmick, and everything else is going to a Norwegian shop for boring utilities  such as wool or basic groceries. 

 The Nordland museum is just opposite the ship. MAYBE I would visit it if not nursing an injury. But from what I have read up on it online, it’s not going to change my life. Better to rest and heal for the dog sledding tomorrow. 

As it is apparently “International Sami Day” Some entertainment is provided in the form of small children dancing with the level of choreography that you expect from small children opposite the ship. It’s adorable I take a photo, having wanted to capture the Sami Flag being waved nearby, but remembering my own reservations about photographing other peoples children, I keep the media posterity to a minimum.  

Lunch. More looking at the sea through the window, whilst listening to my erstwhile neglected music. It is a lazy day. I’m good with it. 

DAY 7 

 This morning we make port at Honningsvad - Home of the Nordkapp. A lot of people disembark to wander the port or do the excursion to see the NordKapp monument. It’s a photo op. I care little for such things. Less so with my mullered ankle. It has made me much more selective about when and where I chose to walk. And today I simply choose not to. 

International Sami Day Sami children dancing

Lazy day for me on ship. That evening saw the aurora borealis again. 

DAY 8 

 I wake up this morning with a reassuringly less painful and more weight-bearing ankle. It reassures me to the point that I attempt to put on my more hefty snow shoes - which will be the significantly better option given that I am about to set outside for 3 hours in the archive for the rescheduled dog-sled ride I missed during my hospital visit at tromsø. 

While we are here we also visited the snow hotel and met the reindeer while they were fed a few snacks of what appeared to my layman eyes to be tumble weed. Meh. They liked it enough. 

Whacked my bad ankle whilst dog sledding. Excruciating! And now I have bruising on the other side. Limp is back. Still…. You gotta laugh, right?

Turn around day - Northern most part of our cruise. I spend most of the hours after sundown alternating between star gazing on deck 9 (such a clear and starry sky tonight) and warming up int he Havblikk bar. I met a guy called Yorg (George) from Frankfurt out on the deck this evening. He followed me out on my third trip out onto the deck to kindly point out some of the lesser known constellations. Orion and Cassiopeia I already knew of course. But he points out Jupiter (I never have been very good at planets. As far as my knowledge goes, if it’s shiny and sometimes close to the moon it’s either Saturn or Jupiter. And in a 50/50 guess I always guess wrong) and Cygnus the Swan directly over the ship. 

I tried reindeer broth for dinner this evening. Is not as bad as it sounds. Same texture as beef but a touch lighter both in colour and in taste. 

The Aurora Borealise presented itself again this evening, in its most spectacular display yet. Ian provides 

DAY 9

The ship turned around from its final port of Kirkenes to head the southbound journey back home late yesterday. The realisation of that brings to me a muted resignation that my daily life is soon to re-commence, with its early mornings, long working hours and bombardment of negativity and racism from certain family members. Sigh. It was nice to have the break at least.

 I spent a (admittedly rather small) amount of time in the gym this morning, in between getting my laundry done. So that’s another couple of things off my To-Do list. An Astronomy lecture on the planets followed in the early afternoon and after that I simply sat on the observation deck alternating between listening to my audio book, practising with my DSLR and reading Max Lucado’s “Cure for a common life” kindly bequeathed upon me by fellow passenger Gary who seemed to feel that if he couldn’t not convert me to Christianity he could at least help me repair my own life. I appreciate the consideration. The book doesn’t entirely lack merit, even if it is a little bit heavy on religion (which I consider to be near as damnit modern mythology) . 

A day goes very quickly doing nothing. I have 3 more of these. It doesn’t quite feel enough.

 The Aurora borealis presents itself again in a small way this evening. It’s starting to get a bit same-y now, and the fresh batch of tourists are a lot more of the “pose for 10 full seconds for repeated shots and be damned whoever’s way they are getting in” variety, so I am generally confident to say that I have gotten the need to spend the night viewing them out of my system now. 

DAY 10

I overdid it again yesterday. I suspect it was my gym sessions. It did not feel that they were impacting my ankle at the time, and in my mind I was re-fortifying my leg muscles to assist the repair. But my body disagrees. Last night I was woken up several times by the pain now radiating up my lower leg, and this morning I am back to begging whatever god or devil will have me for the strength to put on my shoe. 

Tempted to remain in cabin shoeless and viewless but ultimately power through on the understanding that this would be a complete waste. Plus I need breakfast to help re-fuel my bodies supplies of “rebuilding and healing” elements. So I make it to breakfast, and have my hard boiled egg and salmon for protein, my 5 daily vegetables for various trace vitamins, my orange juice for vitamin c and my Original Chai Tea with cinnamon and Ginger for anti-inflammatory properties (see? I really am trying!)

Then hole up by the best window with the comfiest chair for the morning with my notebook, tablet, camera, book and literally anything else that I might be tempted to go back to my cabin for. I - am - not -moving.  Ports stopped at: Risøyhamn (small snowy village. Nothing for tourists barring potentionally a “Galleri”.  

DAY11 to DAY 13

….With regret, the notes of my final couple of days are incomplete - largely on account of a blend of pain, medication, and unending stream concerned/curious (admittedly mostly curious) company and little else to log. Suffice to say, the cruise ended as pleasantly as it began. It dropped us back at Bergan on day 12 where I spent my final night nursing my ankle, which ultimately transpired to be fractured. Apparently a posterior malleolus fracture. Spent the next 6 weeks in a cast and a further 4 weeks in a boot. It is October 2024 as I finally revisit my notes and I am back to pootling around just fine. I have visited Berlin for the first time since last we spoke and am planning a Christmas weekend in Vienna as I type. Alls well that ends well.

08.02.2019 - Egypt

After too many years of succumbing to the emphatic dissuasion of my parents (Terrorism... White Slave Trade... something called Muti...) I finally booked myself in for that Egyptian Nile Cruise I have wanted to go on ever since I played Isis in a school play, in a beaded leggings and crop-top set borrowed from my mother, who still appears to own every outfit she ever bought back in the 70's. 

In an unwavering display of paternal support, my father frogmarches me to get comprehensive life insurance before I even consider booking my flights, but within 3 months I am sitting in a hotel lobby in Cairo at 4am wondering how to kill time without looking like some kind of a dealer or hooker until my tour starts at 7am (Spoiler alert. There is no way to not look suspicious in these situations. Just book better flights)

DAY 1 - Food Market Tour, Cultural Tour, Dance Troup
My taxi driver from last night (who kindly unburdened me of 600 egyptian pounds saying this was the standard rate and really not that much money at all. The liar) arrives again to take me to the next hotel where I have breakfast against a spectacular view of all 3 main pyramids of Giza. I always imagined them wholly inaccessible in the middle of the desert, however unrealistic that may well have been. In actual fact they are practically next to the main road. They might as well be the centrepiece of a very large roundabout. A roundabout that you are just as likely to see camels as well as cars circling.

The breakfast is expansive. A myriad of plates of food are put in front of me - some I recognise, some I approach with trepidation - and they just keep coming until I am physically unable to keep eating. It is unfortunate, then, that my very first tour happens to be an Egyptian Food tour.

My Guide Kafir drives me to an Egyptian Market. If I was expecting it to be remarkably dissimilar to any other market I see in my own country, then I would have been disappointed. Realistically, there is only so much variation stalls of apples and bananas can provide.

Kafir does however introduce me to a very flavourful dish called Koshary, which is made from chickpeas and served with hot tomato sauce and a spicy condiment. Very enjoyable, but be careful with the distribution of the spicy condiment. More careful than I was.
He also buys me some Egyptian bread (which is ostensibly just a hollow 'balloon' made out of paper-thin crusty bread and surely must have about as much nutritional value as a Rizla paper) and treats me to a Turkish coffee. This is served in shot glasses, is very strong, and leaves an inch of grainy, sticky sediment in the bottom of the glass. I wouldn't want to be the one to have to wash it out, but I am equally glad to not have it in me.

From there we drive through Monshaat Nasser - an area colloquially known as Garbage City. You can see why. The government has provided no system for dealing with refuse, so the locals stepped up and took it upon themselves to sort through and recycle the countries rubbish. Kafir assures me that despite the impressions, these people make quite a lucrative career from this, to the point of some of them driving expensive cars home after a day of wading through the garbage.

Right next to the Garbage city sits an impressive Coptic (christian) church - The Monastary of St Simon - which resides within an existing shallow cave. The statues around it are carved from the cave walls themselves in just one piece.

Next we pass through Al-Qarafa - The City of the Dead - Where people who cannot afford an alternative have moved into the graveyard of monuments to their dead with a view to cheaper rent.
Khafir takes me to a nobles tomb then leaves me there for a bit. It's beautifully creepy and I take some very atmospheric photos.

I have paid probably around £250-£300 to make today a day of back-to-back tours, but Kafir finishes early and drops me back to the hotel (not my own hotel, mind) to await my next tour in 3 hours time. I am dog-tired and have nowhere to go but to sit in reception and wait. A phonecall between the tour operator and the hotel buys me a 3 hour power-nap in one of the available rooms. I don't remember reaching the bed, I just remember waking up on it. Exhaustion is the new Rohypnol.

In the evening a second guide, Imman, takes me to an entertainment show, which ostensibly consists of the guys in the background singing about god and the guys in the foreground spinning.
On the way out Imman treats me to a snack off a passing cart. Its called an Asalia and it tastes like sand would if rocks were made out of honey. I can already feel an almighty sugar rush coming on.

I'm back at my own hotel for 9pm and my tour group for the holiday are still together for the induction I felt certain I was going to miss. It's a very pleasant group of 9 people. 4 Sri Lankans, 2 Canadians, 2 China men and 1 Australian-wannabe from England (Hello!)

By 10pm I see my hotel room(s) for the first time. It's a ginormous tower suite with a huge living area, 3 bathrooms, 2 bedrooms, 1 Kitchen, 1 laundry room and 1... just... room. It's eearily vast to the extent that I actually find myself closing all the doors and huddling myself away in the smallest bedroom furthest away from the front door.
In further conversations I found that not only did the Sri Lankans do the same, but they all huddled together in the same room. Such grandeur was excessive. I would rather they had taken the money and booked another tour with it.

DAY 2 - Pyramids of Giza, Egyptian Museum, Papyrus workshop, Flight to Luxor
The next morning I leave behind the continent of 'My hotel suite' and join my official cruise tour group for a day out in Cairo. Local guide Ahmed walks us around the Egyptian museum, then it's off to visit the Pyramids of Giza, which of course I ride around on a camel and take a variety of gimmicky photographs I will proceed to never show anyone out of embarrassment.

Next Ahmed takes us to a Papyrus shop where a lovely smiley lady shows us how papyrus paper is made before we are let loose in the store to peruse and purchase. No hard sell is made. Neither is a purchase at this time since to have the wall space for another hanging I would have to forgo windows.

Then it's off to the airport. After 2 hours in customs, At least 3 security checks and a very awkward interaction with a cleaner who 'found' my passport then demanded money in exchange for it to be returned (And then demanded more for the female attendant who randomly showed up a short time later who also claimed to have found the passport) and 1 hour in the air, we fly over to Luxor and reach the hotel for Midnight. I am up until 2am trying to get internet reception working enough to email home and smugly inform them I am still alive. Mostly I just want to make sure they don't rent out my room in the absolute certainty that I have already been forcibly 'moved on'.
I crawl into bed exhausted. So much travel. No enough Wi-fi. This is no way to relax.

DAY 3 - Luxor and Karnak Temples
The next morning we are up bright and early to explore Karnak Temple. It is a huge 65km expanse of temples and columns dedicated to the King of Ancient Egyptian gods - Amun-Ra.
There are multiple examples of half polished and carved columns. Karnak was a prime example of a constantly evolving 'living temple' which unfortunately became abandoned when the Greeks invaded.

A vast extending path of sphinxes once led from Karnak to Luxor - a 3km distance. These are mostly lost now. Historically, once a year, the lifesize golden statue of Amen-Ra would be taking from the most sacred room in his temple (The Holy of Holys) and carried across to Luxor for a period of 4 weeks so that Amun-Ra and the goddess Mut might enjoy something of an anniversary 'conugal' visit. This festival would be celebrated with vast amounts of tribute of food and wine, which the priests would consume themselves, as the vessel of their respective deities. They made off well from this.

Back out to Luxor temple in the evening. Initial construction started approx 1400 BC by Amenhotep III.

It was tradition for pharaohs to continue on the build of these temples, which started with the smallest (and most sacred room) at the very back - The Holy of Holys - and expanded upwards, outwards and onwards as new extensions were added. This very front façade was built by Rameses II and was decorated with scenes of his military triumphs.

The 25ft obelisk was also built by Rameses II. There used to be 2 of them, but one was gifted to France. In return France bequeathed Egypt a clock, which embarrassingly stopped working (It appears to be true what they say about French engineering)

According to my guide it is primarily dedicated to the Goddess Mut - wife of Amun-Ra. His golden statue would be bought from Karnak to Luxor temple for 4 weeks every year so that the 2 could enjoy something of a 'conjugal visit'.

Google does not necessarily agree that this temple primarily worships the temple Mut, but she is of relevance to it.

Around 800 years a mosque was installed inside the temple of Luxor. The colourful section near the roof used to be the main door when the temple was mostly buried in sand.
It is still actively used as a Mosque, and at 800 years old it is considered as relevant to ancient history as the temple itself.

We return to the boat for the buffet lunch (there is always identifiable food and plenty of healthy salad options) and general 'getting in the way of staff' before we return to Luxor in the evening for the Sound and Light Show (It is distinctly underwhelming. Do not part with any money for this experience. I wouldn't part with syphilis to repeat this experience)

DAY 4 - Temple of Queen Hatshepsut, Valley of the Kings, Architects workshop, Collosus of Memnon
The next day we visit the temple of Queen Hatshepsut (of all the phrases offered to help remember her name, Hot Cheap Suit was the most effective)
Hatshepsut was the first Queen of Egypt. She became queen when her King husband died leaving the throne to her 6 year old step son. She decided that not only was he too young to rule but that he was old enough to join the military school.
So he went off to be turned into a killer and she ruled until 17 years later when he came back and - somewhat inevitably - killed her. He took back the rule of Egypt for the next 50-60 years and commanded all depictions of her to be destroyed or defaced.
In fact, back in Luxor temple there is an Obelisk dedicated to Amun-Ra by Queen Hatshepsut. Her stepson Tutmoses III destroyed all statues dedicated to her but dared not mess with those dedicated to the gods. Instead he built walls around it in order to hide it from view.
The irony of this is that these walls preserved the condition of this obelisk better than any other.

From a distance the temple is pretty to look at, but actually not so interesting to walk around as some of the others, so we soon move on the to Valley of the Kings.

The Valley of the Kings were basically the Pyramids 2.0. Reinvented when the pyramids started being ransacked for the gold. The digging of a tomb would commence upon a new pharoahs ascension to the throne and complete upon their death. Therefore, the longer a pharaohs reign, the deeper into the mountain their tomb would go.
The inside of the tombs were brighly coloured and intricately hieroglyphed against a white plaster background, often depicting fantastical scenes of the afterlife and the imagined 12 hour ordeal of the deceased's journey to the afterlife, where at the end they would meet Osiris for their final judgement (ie, the heart against the feather)

You can purchase tickets to enter select tombs, and a further ticket if you wish to take photographs inside them. Do not attempt to take photographs without the latter ticket. They are watching. They take it very seriously. Things will turn awkward (No, it didnt happen to me. But it happened to someone I was already very keen of pointing-and-laughing at by that time, so all's well...)
The minibus next takes us to the work house of a family of architects who showed us the main types of stone found in this part of Egypt - namely, alabastar. granite and basalt - and how an item such as a vase is chipped and shaped out of the solid rock.

I select a Bast for my Father and an Anubis for my mother and after a great deal of time pouting at one then t'other the store owner eventually allows me to buy both for the price of one on the unspoken condition that I bugger off and never come back. They are well packed in copious amounts of bubblewrap and I am sent on my merry way, knowing full well that I have still been overcharged, but not as overcharged as all the others (#Winner!)

And then we have just enough time to slip off the bus and click off a couple of snaps of the collosus of Memnon. I dont know much about these yet since he pretty much left us to our own devices here. (Well, I say 'he'.... 'I' wandered off. Tom-ay-to Tom-ar-to)

Because 'someone' wandered off at the last stop, If we want to catch the cruiser before it sets off we're going to have to ditch the bus and take a short cut across the Nile in a motorboat, which adds bit of adventure/trauma to a nice daytrip out...!

DAY 5 - Edfu, Kom Ombo
Overnight we have docked in Esna, and horse and carts await outside to take us the short distance to Edfu temple.

Edfu temple is dedicated to Horus - The hawk-headed god of the sky, son of Isis and Osiris. It is the best preserved temple from Ancient Egypt. There is a small maze of towering walls covered in hieroglyphs and depictions of horus. They are all still fantastically clear.
In many of them Horus is depicted as slaying a hippopotamus - the animal incarnation of Ancient Egypts only evil god, Seti. Weirdly, the hippopotomus is shown as smaller when it is in the water (as identified by Horus standing atop of a boat) than on land where it is depicted as being much larger.
It is felt that this is because of the Ancient Egyptians recognition of the fact that water distorts images and makes them appear smaller.
Im personally not sure... From what I know of the Ancients they favoured symbolism and metaphors over depctions of actual physics but... It'll do.

When I return to my room on the cruise ship, Mahmood (The genius behind the towel-origami) has made a crocodile out of my bathroom towels. An apt choice. Our next temple visit is going to be to Kom Ombo. The temple dedicated to two deities - Horus again, and also Sorbek, the crocodile headed god of fertility and new creation

Kom Ombo is a fascinating temple

It has one of the oldest nile-o-meters. A well-shaped hole in the ground used for predicting flood and drought levels. Namely for the use of taxation of the natives. If they were predicted to grow higher crops due to higher water availability then they will be able to tax more.

There are also early surgical equipment depicted among its wall hieroglyphs - some of it still in use today in little changed form. It also shows medical treatments. A seated woman to the side of the instruments depicts a labour. Women gave birth on small birthing seats.

There are even cock pics in the footnotes of the hieroglyphs here.
Seriously! They describe the successful treatment of a man with impotence.

A grid covers a chamber in the floor inwhich it is suspected a priest would stand in order to utilise acoustics to make his voice sound 'god-like'. It is behind where a large staue would have stood, enabling the 'god' to speak to whoever was praying on the other side.
I havent seen this at any of temple and I dont like it much. However much hokum the ancient Egyptian religion might been, I like to think the people who endorsed it at least believed in it themselves.

We move on the the High Dam. An important more modern structure in Egypt. It was necessary to regulate the water in egypt and keep the population sustained, but it's creation also flooded no less than 17 ancient monuments. UNESCO stepped in and relocated a few of the more major ones including Abu Simbel.

If we cross the road and look to the other side we see what is now the Nasser Lake. The largest man-made lake in Europe. Here is where I would find my crocodiles. I do look. Hard. None yet.

It is of relevance to the tour, certainly, but I am mostly here for the Gods and Temples, so I am glad when we move on to Philae temple.

Philae temple is dedicated to Isis, the goddess of Love and Magic - is one of the temples that was relocated out of the path of Nasser Lake. It is on an island, so we have to travel there by boat.

As with most of the temples, a makeshift market is a gauntlet tourists must work their way through from the drop-off point to the attraction. The retailers are pushy but the products are cheap. IF you dont accept the first price. NEVER accept the first price. You're not even meant to.

Further down the road we visit a shop for distilling Egyptian essential oils.
I truly do want the one that is supposedly the base for Davidoff Cool Water but the money they ask for and the money I have do not even begin to match anymore. I have been overtipping (Robbed blind!) for the last few days and I am literally on the brink of having to offer sexual favours for food, so I sit back trying not to look mournful while the Sri Lankans flock into an ecstatic buying frenzy.

Around the time I realise that my requirement to pee is becoming a medical emergency we are advised that we are next visiting a granite quarry the ancient egyptian architects used for their projects.

In the middle of the slabs of remaining stone is a small pool of water which was once a full-size canal used for transporting these loads down the nile. There were currently known to be 6 vessels for this purposes.
I try to find the dignity to rise above 'Mission-Impossible-esque' plans to find a way to pee in it without anyone noticing me.

On one of the walls are some not-so-clear drawings of ostriches. These were not birds native to egypt, so this indicates that slaves from other nations worked this quarry.

The centrepiece of the quarry is The Unfinished Obelisk. Queen Hatshepsut ordered its creation, but a giant crack appeared in it, so it was abandoned.

We return to the ship. I pee. Relief, thy name is bathroom.

That evening Ayman takes us for a wander along Aswan market. The Sri Lankans want to stop at more market stalls and Ayman doesn't want to stop at any at all. Ayman wins. Kind of. The Sri Lankans go missing for a bit. Noone really minds that much.

We stop to try an apple flavoured Hookah before heading back to the boat for our last night.

Day 6 - Abu Simbel, Sleeper train to Cairo
Next day, an 04:15am start to visit Abu Simbel. It is a 3 hour drive out into the desert. At that hour the stars looked amazing. There were thousands of them visible to the naked eye and they looked like they came right down to the ground in the near distance. I spend the journey with my nose pressed up against the glass of the car like one of those 80's Garfield car toys, while the Canadians look at me and then each other with the kind of bemusement reserved for people who live in.... well... Canada.

Abu Simbel. The Temple that gloryhound Rameses II inevitably built in honour of himself. All four famous statues at the front are of Rameses II. Inside, to the rear, the holy of holys features 3 god's and Rameses II sitting among them. He is placed so that the light of the sun, when the door was opened at dawn, would light upon him first, before even the other gods. The arms of the statues are missing because back in the day they were made of gold in order to reflect the sun and that gold apparently opted not to stick around.

Just around the corner from Abu Simbel is the Temple of Hathor and Nefertari - Rameses II's chief wife. The giant statues of Rameses II still take precedence by the doorway, but it's the thought that counts.

A 2 hour walkaround preceeds a 3 hour drive through the desert back to Aswan.

As suspected... Sandy.

The Chinese left the night before. The Sri Lankans opted out of the Abu Simbel excursion and went directly to the airport this morning. The Canadians are dropped off at the airport on our way back to the ship. Now it's just me. I'm allowed to lurk but I no longer have a room, table number nor food pass. Ayman kindly accompanies me to the McDonalds just down the road (as it always is) He knows I am running out of money, so refuses to accept my tip. I meagrely buy him lunch. The tip is a massive saving for me which transpired to be critical over the following 24 hours
Ayman then waits with me outside the ship and hands me over to my driver, with strict instructions to take me to the train station and actually see me onto the train. Which he does. He also furnishes me with a selection of soft drinks and fruit juices for the trip.

I have taken the money saved from my cancelled Balloon trip over Luxor and used it to upgrade my train ticket from Aswan to Cairo to a sleeper cabin. It costs me £110 and includes an air-flight-esque lunch and breakfast. There is a foldaway wash basin and the bed is surprisingly warm and comfortable.
It's a new experience AND a dose of luxury over the original plan. I am happy with this choice.

DAY 7 - Saqqara, Dahshur and Memphis
When I emerge from the train 10 hours later a man bee-lines for me cheerily and greets me with unnerving certainty while he attempts to wrestle my case off me. I am on the cusp of pushing him onto the rails and simultaneously reaching for my pocket Arabic dictionary for the words "Help, Rape!" when he identifies himself as the the taxi driver who originally transferred (*robbed) me. I am no further from pushing him onto the rails.

I have downgraded my cairo hotel in a bid to save the last of my rapidly diminishing money and when the Taxi driver finally finds his way there, the £12 room is cold and grey and the bed linen feels like it is sewn together out of poison ivy and fire ants. The staff however are polite and helpful and the hotel manager goes out of his way to introduce himself personally and be available for anything I require.

3 hours later I head down to reception to meet Mervat, my tour guide for the day out to Saqqara, Dahshur and Memphis.

Mervat is very kind. When I foolishly fail to realise that the tour which has sucked up the very last of my funds also requires me to pay entrance fees, she buys my last ticket with her tip.

I am super embarrassed, but very grateful. She reassuringly refers to me as 'Sister' henceforth (I can only assume that this is a woman who deeply loathes her sister)

We first head to the Step Pyramid of Djoser in Saqqara. It is the oldest known pyramid ever built, at around 2648 BC. It was completed a full 100 years before work on the Giza pyramids even started.

Initially, Egyptian burial sites were more more basic rectangular shaped flat roofed structures called mastabas. This Step pyramid simply consists of 6 stacked mastabas (I childishly hope that the plural for Mastabas is a Mastabasian. It isn't.)

I am then driven a short distance across the Saqqara to the tomb of Kagemni.

It is the tomb of Kagemni-Memi, who was the Chief Justice, Vizier and son-in-law to the Reigning monarch Pharoah Teti - who was the first king of the 6th Dynasty of Egypt (c. 2321-2290 BC)

Now. Visit this tomb, if your itinerary allows for it. Daily the masses go flocking to the generic tombs of ancient egyptian royalty, but this lesser known tomb was - to me - more interesting by far.

The walls depict crystal clear embossed depictions of egyptians in various throes of daily life, including dancing, farm and fishing. Casting aside the simplistic art that ancient egypt is famous for, the depictions are actually very detailed. Among the wide variety of fish shown in the fishing images are what a clearly catfish, and in one is a hippo swallowing a crocodile. In one room to the rear the brown-skin coloured hues are still fresh on the wall.

Mervat suggests we take a break en-route, which usually means that you're going to swing by some manufacturing house where they will show you how the merchandise is made, then try to sell it to you.

Yup. This time it's carpet. Mervat leaves me in the care of the factory-owner while she takes off for a coffee. He describes the process. The public school kids work in shifts between school and the carpet factory. Some go to school in the AM and work in the PM. Others the other way around. There are around 300 of them in total, but today is Saturday and is their day off (Fridays and Saturdays are the weekends in Egypt)

They work in the factory as mandatory until they are 16 years old, making meagre profits from the commission of sales of their specific work. Most don't stick around after that because its not nearly enough to make a living from. The trade is failing dismally at the moment.

Watching the two young boys dexterously working the loom is fascinating. I am invited to try it myself. I find myself not even remotely inclined to fuck up their work and politely refuse.
I am then taken upstairs to the vast, gleaming showroom piled floor to ceiling with handmade carpets and completely bereft of anyone but myself.

Considering how slow business clearly is, the sale really isn't so aggressively hard. I think he can smell that I have no money. Literally smell it. This outfit has seem its third day now. I will not meet any future husbands while packing light.

We meet Mervat in reception and continue on to Dahshur where we find both the Red pyramid and Bent Pyramid, both ofwhich were built around 50 years after the Djoser Step Pyramid by Pharaoh Sneferu who reigned over Egypt from approximately 2613 BC to 2589 BC (He was the father of Pharaoh Khufu, who commissioned the Pyramids of Giza)

The Bent pyramid, as the name implies, was the result of a rare miscalculation by the ancient egyptian architects.

The Red Pyramid is the largest of the three main pyramids in the Dashur complex. You can actually go inside it. The not-inconsequential zigzagging staircase leading up to the entrance should be enough to warn a sensible person that the walk isn't going to be an easy one. Regrettably I am not a sensible person and I proceeded through the entrance and back down into the pyramids depths. There isn't a staircase inside so much as a (very) long, steep slope interspersed with metal sleepers. There is room for a body and a half, which means if you encounter someone coming the other way or aren't moving fast enough for anyone coming up behind you, things are going to get awkward. So you feel obliged to move as quickly as possibly to minimise this complication. By the time I found a narrow, dark, thoroughly underwhelming room with a triangular roof at the bottom of the staircase I couldn't feel my legs and my chest was burning with pain. My first move was to collapse in a corner while I regulated my breathing to something less reminiscent of a cat wheezing up... frankly... another cat.

When I find the strength to force myself back onto my feet I look around and make an effort to put into words what the inside of a pyramid looks like. Brace yourself for mind-blowingly descriptive skills here... Its sorta like the inside of the outside of a pyramid, but its narrower.

Disproportionately so in fact. Where did the rest of the walls go??

There isn't so much as a Costa Coffee down here (which, to be honest with you, verges on surprising really...!) so in a heart-sinkingly short amount of time I'm shooting back up the slope to the exit is quickly as my numb legs will allow for.

Mervat meets me in the car at the base of the pyramid. The feeling comes back in my legs sometime in the car on our way to our next port of call, and this doesn't improve things for me.

By the time we reach the city of Memphis - the very first capital of ancient Egypt - there isn't a muscle in my body that isn't aching.
Memphis is now an open-air egyptian museum of statues and artifacts. The centrepiece is the 34ft long statue of (you guessed it) Ramese II. As I hobble around with Mervat I hear 'My friend' called and turn to find Ahmed who was our tour guide at the Egyptian Museum. I did like that man. We hug hello and I introduce him to Mervat and choose to ignore the slightly hostile indifference that passes between these two people who seemed otherwise very amiable. I guess as tour guides they are technically rivals in a place where money means so much more than whether you can afford a coffee on the way home from work.

Speaking ofwhich, I check with Ahmed that the tip that I left with the tour guide at the start of the trip to pass on to him has reached him. He looks at me blankly for a long moment before falling back into his easy cheer and stating that it had probably just slipped the mind of the tour guide.
That tour guide was a dick. And I have nothing else to give to Ahmed. We exchange emails and part ways so that we can continue on our respective tours.

On the way back to the hotel Mervat kindly arranges my airport cab later that night.

Day 8 - CAIRO, unanimously voted 'Most likely place to be murdered' by all the voices in my head.
My £12 hotel is in a particularly quiet part of Cairo. A mixed blessing. There are no loud, frightening hordes of tourist-hating locals but at the same time I am in exactly the kind of back-alley area people just like me are last seen before they are never seen again. Even I am starting to see the value of my powdered spleen as some kind of black-market cure for herpes in Cairo. So I stay in, wash with cold water and sleep under my 100% poison-ivy and fire ants duvet for the remaining 10 hours until my 3am taxi arrives (thank you Mervat) to chauffeur me back to the airport.

The driver is the driver from yesterdays tour. He must have had next to no sleep at all, bless him, and it's not an easy drive for him also. The route is riddled with Egyptian military check stops, the police of whom take one look at me in the back and command him to pull aside in order to have an aggressive thoroughly uninterpretatable conversation with him outside the car while I sit in the back and wait to be ultimately executed. This happens twice in our short journey. When we finally reach the airport I give him my remaining £5 coins I had been holding back for breakfast at the airport. He seems genuinely grateful, for however meagre that tip was.

If there is one thing I will take from my experience of spending time alone in Cairo as a foreigner, it is a deep appreciation of being literally anyplace else in the world. I don't feel truly safe until my plane touches back down in London.

The Egyptian Nile cruise is lovely. But I thoroughly encourage anyone who can do it in a way that avoids Cairo, to do so.