It's Sunday so it must be Stockholm. I've been invited as a guest of Servier Laboratories at the European Society of cardiology meeting here. They are presenting, what they hope, will be ground breaking study on the use of their drug Ivabradine in heart failure.
I flew in last night, settle down, then go for dinner with three of their people. They are all very cagey about the results and reckon not to know. However, they have a huge stand, with lots of people from France and the UK. It is a French company. The top executives are staying, not in a hotel, but have hired a boat in Stockholm harbour. Hardly the actions of a company who are on the brink of disaster.
I get up reasonably early this morning and make sure I get a good seat in the 'hot topics' section. I forgot my glasses, so I'm going to need to get reasonably near the front to see anything. First, there is a paper on using stem cells to improve heart function in people who have had heart attacks. It works, a bit but it's another step in the right direction. Next there's a drug that can reduce Pottassium levels in people with heart failure, presented by Bertrand Pitt no less. Yes, yes, get on with it. Then the SHIFT study. Sure enough Ivabradine does improve management of heart failure, well it reduces hospital admissions, although it doesn't statistically improve mortality. Anyway, that's good enough to give them all a boost back at the stand. We're going out to celebrate tonight.
After a 'long lunch' I take a nap and now I'm getting ready to go out again. It's a hard life
Sunday, 29 August 2010
Friday, 27 August 2010
The birthday season
It was Emily's birthday yesterday and will be Rachel's on Saturday, but first I must finish my stories of Sipan.
Tuesday 17th August
Breakfast overlooks the bay and on to the Adriatic sea. The guidebook say that from outer space, the brightest blue spot on the planet is the Adriatic sea around Dubrovnik. I can believe it. These Elafite, or Deer Islands, have 'relied on the city of Dubrovnik, in whose possession they had supposedly been from the 11th century' the poorly translated tourist board information tells us. The nearby island of Lokrum is where, legend has it, Richard the Lion Heart of England, was ship wrecked on his way to third crusade in 1192. He was so grateful that he gave the city of Dubrovnik sufficient money to begin the building of it's cathedral.
After breakfast we went for a walk around the village where we are staying. Sipanska Luka, or just Luka, is faded in it's glory. It was once the capital of these islands, but now the buildings remain erect only because of the sturdiness of their original design. There is an old colonial looking government house, which is reputedly up for sale for five million euros. It looks like it would take ten times that to renovate it.
Back at the hotel we have a coffee. A little girl is being patched up by her parents having trodden on some glass. I suppose I better go over and see if she's alright. 'Is everything OK?' I ask tentatively. 'Yes' is the rather terse reply. 'Only I'm a doctor, in case you need one' I say hesitantly. 'Ya ya, so em I' answered dad, abruptly and looking up from the child's foot. 'Oooh Kaay then' I turned and slipped away crest fallen at the rejection of my offer of help. Never mind.
We spent the rest of the day by the sea, lying in the shade and dozing between reading. I woke to the sound of Italians talking animatedly about what, I'm not sure, but it had something to do with Armando and a restaurant. I couldn't tell if they were complaining about his cooking or looking forward to seeing that evening. Either way they all had an opinion, each of which differed violently from the others.
I got up and walked over to sit on the wall nearby. As the voices died down, so the crickets seem to get louder, the sun was falling a little and it was beginning to get cooler again. A couple of boats hummed up the channel. A dog came sauntering past looking for something. He stopped at my towel as if he'd found what he was looking for, gave it a sniff, cocked a leg and peed on it.
***
That night we ate at the restaurant just next to the old colonial building. The meal was good. We found out that the former government building was owned by a Canadian family who lived across the village square. In fact they were eating there tonight. They got their money, we're told in hushed tones, after the war, when the grandfather went to Chile. They have recently returned and are now looking to sell.
Wednesday (I think) 18th August.
On second thoughts it's probably not a good idea to hold my Darlek birthday card out of the window where German and Croatian people are having breakfast. I don't suppose they react well to being told they will be 'exterminated'. I have a vision of them suddenly getting up in unison, forming a single file and marching off, Sibermanlike, to receive orders from Darvros.
It's 9.15am and we've got up a bit earlier than on previous days, so a more leisurely breakfast and we can watch others getting ready for the day. At the entrance to the hotel, which we go through to reach the open air breakfast area, are gathered hundreds, well twenty or so, German children, excitedly jumping up and down around their carers for the day. The Kindergarten are, it seems, going to be pirates. The main teacher is a man with long hair and a beard, just the part. For today he has a patch over one eye and a bandanna.
I said I wanted to walk to Sudarud, so off I set. I'll come back by bus a little later. By now it's about 11.15 and the sun is high. Up a steep incline to begin with and then across the top of the island. It's about a five kilometer walk and getting hotter by the minute. The land is dry but still green. There are several olive trees and vineyards in various degrees of cultivation and care. Many are neglected completely. The houses are scattered across the countryside and also in varying degrees of repair. Along the way there is a monastery. Apparently there are thirty three scattered around this tiny island. It seems hardly a hardship to live here though. Inside the church some workers are lazily trying to renovate the ornate walls and alter.
The road to Sudarud is single track and unmarked, but wide enough for overtaking. I walk on the left of the road to see on coming traffic. The only conventional transport that crossed me twice was the bus. On one occasion a chugging sound started behind me. I looked to see what appeared to be a motorised vehicle of some sort, like a large petrol driven lawn mower, pulling a cart upon which were sitting two men in their sixties. As they gradually passed me the driver gesticulated to the back of the truck. I wave 'no' to indicate that I didn't need a lift, but thanks.
The road is lined by a variety of wild flowers, many familiar looking, like the ones in England, but other more exotic ones too. I pick the dozen or so different varieties and pledge to look them up when I get home. I didn't of course. There are three finds of butterfly I came across too. One is a large brown winged type with white stripes. Another, smaller brown with black or purple spots, and thirdly a pale yellow one.
I suddenly feel like I'm in some sort of film with the road stretching ahead and behind, but not a sole to be seen in either direction. The crickets are as loud as even, but apart from that it's perfectly still. There's not a breath of a breeze. It's surprising how mush cooler it is in the shade, but I can't dally. Fortunately I brought a bottle of water. I love it.
In the distance a church bell chimes midday, and a mad dog crosses me and the road from one field to the next.
Before too long the road starts to run down hill, and I enter Sudarud. As the main ferry port it is the destination for many day trippers from Dubrovnik who want to see the islands. My first priority is a beer. This little fishing port, turned tourist attraction, is bigger than Luka. There's a small bay and a few resting fishing boats. As I approach the harbour I can see that the pirate ship we crossed on our trip to Dubrovnik, has moored up and the trippers are disembarking. It soon became apparent that this boat full are English holiday makers.
There are a couple of bars, which I get to just before the rush. It is on a platform overhanging the harbour. Here there is a gentle breeze and I order a beer. The table next to me has four middle aged women, talking in an accent I don't recognise, but looking identical. They could be Israeli or Palestinian, I can't tell. There's an Aussie couple and another couple who aren't speaking. After a little stroll around it's time for lunch. I sit at the next restaurant and order some food. Fried fish, boiled potatoes and overcooked runner beans. It's all floating in a heavily garlicked olive oil. Washed down with a glass of white wine it's just what I wanted. Time to go back to the hotel and meet up with Sarah. The bus must be here, as the main passenger ferry is just pulling in. Round the corner and the bus has unloaded. Running towards me is the Kindergarten making a loud noise as it rushes past.
Before long I'm back at the hotel. We head to the North side of the sleeve of water that leads to Luka. I lay down on the grass under an olive tree, avoiding the spot where the dog had dishonoured my towel the previous day. We have a dip in the water and then I return to reacquaint myself with Adrian Mole. He is now in is mid forties, in a dysfunctional marriage, and has a spoilt young daughter. The book begins with Gordon Brown becoming Prime Minister. I do like the way Sue Townsend, reflects pretty much my own thoughts politically through her dialogue. I have, after all,grown up with Adrian and his author.
It is peaceful, if not quiet. Occasionally a motorboat or car breaks up the constant chatter of the crickets. Something keeps biting my legs but I can't see what. I doze off in the heat but wake with a strange feeling on my leg. There walking in a neat line across my thigh is a row of ants, biting their way to their next meal. I jump up and brush them away. Right it's G & T time.
That evening we had dinner at the best restaurant on the island. It is on the water a little way along the south side of the channel. It's a set menu, you get what you're given, but it is excellent. We start with octopus burger, then a light risotto, followed by the main course of fried fish, and lastly a pudding and schnapps. All to the sight of the sun setting and boats coming and going. Another perfect day. We must eat here again.
Tuesday 17th August
Breakfast overlooks the bay and on to the Adriatic sea. The guidebook say that from outer space, the brightest blue spot on the planet is the Adriatic sea around Dubrovnik. I can believe it. These Elafite, or Deer Islands, have 'relied on the city of Dubrovnik, in whose possession they had supposedly been from the 11th century' the poorly translated tourist board information tells us. The nearby island of Lokrum is where, legend has it, Richard the Lion Heart of England, was ship wrecked on his way to third crusade in 1192. He was so grateful that he gave the city of Dubrovnik sufficient money to begin the building of it's cathedral.
After breakfast we went for a walk around the village where we are staying. Sipanska Luka, or just Luka, is faded in it's glory. It was once the capital of these islands, but now the buildings remain erect only because of the sturdiness of their original design. There is an old colonial looking government house, which is reputedly up for sale for five million euros. It looks like it would take ten times that to renovate it.
Back at the hotel we have a coffee. A little girl is being patched up by her parents having trodden on some glass. I suppose I better go over and see if she's alright. 'Is everything OK?' I ask tentatively. 'Yes' is the rather terse reply. 'Only I'm a doctor, in case you need one' I say hesitantly. 'Ya ya, so em I' answered dad, abruptly and looking up from the child's foot. 'Oooh Kaay then' I turned and slipped away crest fallen at the rejection of my offer of help. Never mind.
We spent the rest of the day by the sea, lying in the shade and dozing between reading. I woke to the sound of Italians talking animatedly about what, I'm not sure, but it had something to do with Armando and a restaurant. I couldn't tell if they were complaining about his cooking or looking forward to seeing that evening. Either way they all had an opinion, each of which differed violently from the others.
I got up and walked over to sit on the wall nearby. As the voices died down, so the crickets seem to get louder, the sun was falling a little and it was beginning to get cooler again. A couple of boats hummed up the channel. A dog came sauntering past looking for something. He stopped at my towel as if he'd found what he was looking for, gave it a sniff, cocked a leg and peed on it.
***
That night we ate at the restaurant just next to the old colonial building. The meal was good. We found out that the former government building was owned by a Canadian family who lived across the village square. In fact they were eating there tonight. They got their money, we're told in hushed tones, after the war, when the grandfather went to Chile. They have recently returned and are now looking to sell.
Wednesday (I think) 18th August.
On second thoughts it's probably not a good idea to hold my Darlek birthday card out of the window where German and Croatian people are having breakfast. I don't suppose they react well to being told they will be 'exterminated'. I have a vision of them suddenly getting up in unison, forming a single file and marching off, Sibermanlike, to receive orders from Darvros.
It's 9.15am and we've got up a bit earlier than on previous days, so a more leisurely breakfast and we can watch others getting ready for the day. At the entrance to the hotel, which we go through to reach the open air breakfast area, are gathered hundreds, well twenty or so, German children, excitedly jumping up and down around their carers for the day. The Kindergarten are, it seems, going to be pirates. The main teacher is a man with long hair and a beard, just the part. For today he has a patch over one eye and a bandanna.
I said I wanted to walk to Sudarud, so off I set. I'll come back by bus a little later. By now it's about 11.15 and the sun is high. Up a steep incline to begin with and then across the top of the island. It's about a five kilometer walk and getting hotter by the minute. The land is dry but still green. There are several olive trees and vineyards in various degrees of cultivation and care. Many are neglected completely. The houses are scattered across the countryside and also in varying degrees of repair. Along the way there is a monastery. Apparently there are thirty three scattered around this tiny island. It seems hardly a hardship to live here though. Inside the church some workers are lazily trying to renovate the ornate walls and alter.
The road to Sudarud is single track and unmarked, but wide enough for overtaking. I walk on the left of the road to see on coming traffic. The only conventional transport that crossed me twice was the bus. On one occasion a chugging sound started behind me. I looked to see what appeared to be a motorised vehicle of some sort, like a large petrol driven lawn mower, pulling a cart upon which were sitting two men in their sixties. As they gradually passed me the driver gesticulated to the back of the truck. I wave 'no' to indicate that I didn't need a lift, but thanks.
The road is lined by a variety of wild flowers, many familiar looking, like the ones in England, but other more exotic ones too. I pick the dozen or so different varieties and pledge to look them up when I get home. I didn't of course. There are three finds of butterfly I came across too. One is a large brown winged type with white stripes. Another, smaller brown with black or purple spots, and thirdly a pale yellow one.
I suddenly feel like I'm in some sort of film with the road stretching ahead and behind, but not a sole to be seen in either direction. The crickets are as loud as even, but apart from that it's perfectly still. There's not a breath of a breeze. It's surprising how mush cooler it is in the shade, but I can't dally. Fortunately I brought a bottle of water. I love it.
In the distance a church bell chimes midday, and a mad dog crosses me and the road from one field to the next.
Before too long the road starts to run down hill, and I enter Sudarud. As the main ferry port it is the destination for many day trippers from Dubrovnik who want to see the islands. My first priority is a beer. This little fishing port, turned tourist attraction, is bigger than Luka. There's a small bay and a few resting fishing boats. As I approach the harbour I can see that the pirate ship we crossed on our trip to Dubrovnik, has moored up and the trippers are disembarking. It soon became apparent that this boat full are English holiday makers.
There are a couple of bars, which I get to just before the rush. It is on a platform overhanging the harbour. Here there is a gentle breeze and I order a beer. The table next to me has four middle aged women, talking in an accent I don't recognise, but looking identical. They could be Israeli or Palestinian, I can't tell. There's an Aussie couple and another couple who aren't speaking. After a little stroll around it's time for lunch. I sit at the next restaurant and order some food. Fried fish, boiled potatoes and overcooked runner beans. It's all floating in a heavily garlicked olive oil. Washed down with a glass of white wine it's just what I wanted. Time to go back to the hotel and meet up with Sarah. The bus must be here, as the main passenger ferry is just pulling in. Round the corner and the bus has unloaded. Running towards me is the Kindergarten making a loud noise as it rushes past.
Before long I'm back at the hotel. We head to the North side of the sleeve of water that leads to Luka. I lay down on the grass under an olive tree, avoiding the spot where the dog had dishonoured my towel the previous day. We have a dip in the water and then I return to reacquaint myself with Adrian Mole. He is now in is mid forties, in a dysfunctional marriage, and has a spoilt young daughter. The book begins with Gordon Brown becoming Prime Minister. I do like the way Sue Townsend, reflects pretty much my own thoughts politically through her dialogue. I have, after all,grown up with Adrian and his author.
It is peaceful, if not quiet. Occasionally a motorboat or car breaks up the constant chatter of the crickets. Something keeps biting my legs but I can't see what. I doze off in the heat but wake with a strange feeling on my leg. There walking in a neat line across my thigh is a row of ants, biting their way to their next meal. I jump up and brush them away. Right it's G & T time.
That evening we had dinner at the best restaurant on the island. It is on the water a little way along the south side of the channel. It's a set menu, you get what you're given, but it is excellent. We start with octopus burger, then a light risotto, followed by the main course of fried fish, and lastly a pudding and schnapps. All to the sight of the sun setting and boats coming and going. Another perfect day. We must eat here again.
Monday, 23 August 2010
My Birthday in Dubrovnik
16th August
'It is your birthday and you must celebrate, or you will be exterminated' the Dalek insists in a crescendo stuttering voice.
It is my birthday and we are going to Dubrovnik. I got to decide what we do, so we catch the early boat, not too early, about midday actually. We'd slept in late and nearly missed breakfast altogether. I'd been given a present of a tour guide of the historic walled city. I'd also been given the best birthday card ever. It's a doctor Who card with a Dalek greeting as you open it. Our room overlooks the breakfast area so I open the card so see if any of the people below can hear it. Some look up with a bemused expression. It makes ME chuckle anyway.
Later we are sitting on an old passenger boat waiting for it to set sail from Sudarud, the main port on the island and fifteen minutes from our hotel on the bus. The boat looks as if it should have been decommissioned years ago.'Oh my God' exclaims Sarah,'I've seen a fish this big' and she extends her arms to full span.'It was so big I had to gasp' The fish is swimming along side the boat. When we had arrived, the crew were having their lunch in the galley. It's a large bowl of some sort of broth. There are six or seven of them, big burly guys and they are tucking in. The journey costs 23 Kuna, two pounds thirty, each. As we leave the harbour a 'pirate ship' sails by with some very unlikely pirates on board. They seemed to be having fun anyway.
One of the large Croatian sailors points upstairs and we follow his instruction. 'Huala', I thank him. I certainly wasn't going to argue with him.
The first island we stop at is Lopud. This is a more 'developed' island in terms of tourism. There is a long promenade, may be two hundred meters, with a narrow beach just wide enough for two rows of beach chairs. There are half a dozen bars and some shops. The church on the hill dominates the shoreline. The harbour is too small for the bigger boats we saw at Sipan. Many more people get on here in a quick turn around, and we're off again.
As the sun gets hotter we move into the shade. There's a gentle breeze. More people get on at Kolocep. Soon we can see the city of Dubrovnik itself.
As with Porec, Dubrovnik was once part of the province of Venice, and later part of the Ottoman Empire. There is a strong Catholic history with many monasteries and influences from the Dominican, Franciscan and Benedictine orders. The Jesuits also had a great influence here. The city was devastated by an earthquake in 1667. After the second world war Josip Broz, known as Tito, was able to hold the disparate Balkan states together in the republic of Yugoslavia. Although a Communist state, it became part of the non-aligned group of states and in the 1960s opened up to tourism. After Titos death Croatia became independent. Their first president, Franjo Tudman, has given his name to the main bridge out of the city.
The homeland wars are still recent and too raw to be talked about. We are strongly advised in all the brochures not to mention the war to locals.
Dubrovnik is hot. A taxi takes us to the old town and we have a beer as we plan our afternoon. The Franciscan Monastery is the first stop.
It claims to house one of the oldest pharmacies, and it's worth a look and some illicit photos. Then we take a walk along the wall. The city is famous for it's wall. It is the walled city. This is an amazing sight. The only other example I've seen, and on a smaller scale is Carcasson, France. The roof tops are tightly packed and invariably made of new terracotta tiles. The old ones were lost in the blockade of recent years. The city has made an almost full recovery from those dark days.
Then we have a swim in the sea. Here in Croatia, people just get in wherever they can. The water is clear everywhere. There's a collection of people at the bottom of one part of the wall, by some rocks. So on with the speedos and into the water.
After the swim we lunch in the old town. I really fancied sardines. We sat down at one of the many fish restaurants. No sardines. At the next restaurant I ask 'Do you have any sardines' and add 'molin', Croatian for please. My attempt to endear myself falls flat. 'Yes, small fish' replies the waitress without expression and points to the menu. 'Fried' she continues. 'Could I have mine grilled?' I enquire innocently. 'No' she replies firmly but quizzically. We waited for the sardines expectantly and wondering what exactly we would get.
What came was whitebait. No wonder she was adamant they couldn't be grilled. They were good actually, especially washed down with a glass of wine.
The 'racun' please and we pay the bill. There are so many ancient and wondrous buildings, but an unexpected one was a highly ornate Eastern Orthodox church, recognisable by it's absence of pews.
We have another drink. The sun is hot, so we have another drink. Time to head back to the ferry port and we hail a taxi. Our friendly driver asks us how our day was. 'The war was good' I slur, and immediately correct myself. 'The wall, the wall'.
I think I got away with it.
The rest of the trip is in silence. Back to Sipan and another perfect evening meal. It's been a busy and tiring day.
'It is your birthday and you must celebrate, or you will be exterminated' the Dalek insists in a crescendo stuttering voice.
It is my birthday and we are going to Dubrovnik. I got to decide what we do, so we catch the early boat, not too early, about midday actually. We'd slept in late and nearly missed breakfast altogether. I'd been given a present of a tour guide of the historic walled city. I'd also been given the best birthday card ever. It's a doctor Who card with a Dalek greeting as you open it. Our room overlooks the breakfast area so I open the card so see if any of the people below can hear it. Some look up with a bemused expression. It makes ME chuckle anyway.
Later we are sitting on an old passenger boat waiting for it to set sail from Sudarud, the main port on the island and fifteen minutes from our hotel on the bus. The boat looks as if it should have been decommissioned years ago.'Oh my God' exclaims Sarah,'I've seen a fish this big' and she extends her arms to full span.'It was so big I had to gasp' The fish is swimming along side the boat. When we had arrived, the crew were having their lunch in the galley. It's a large bowl of some sort of broth. There are six or seven of them, big burly guys and they are tucking in. The journey costs 23 Kuna, two pounds thirty, each. As we leave the harbour a 'pirate ship' sails by with some very unlikely pirates on board. They seemed to be having fun anyway.
One of the large Croatian sailors points upstairs and we follow his instruction. 'Huala', I thank him. I certainly wasn't going to argue with him.
The first island we stop at is Lopud. This is a more 'developed' island in terms of tourism. There is a long promenade, may be two hundred meters, with a narrow beach just wide enough for two rows of beach chairs. There are half a dozen bars and some shops. The church on the hill dominates the shoreline. The harbour is too small for the bigger boats we saw at Sipan. Many more people get on here in a quick turn around, and we're off again.
As the sun gets hotter we move into the shade. There's a gentle breeze. More people get on at Kolocep. Soon we can see the city of Dubrovnik itself.
As with Porec, Dubrovnik was once part of the province of Venice, and later part of the Ottoman Empire. There is a strong Catholic history with many monasteries and influences from the Dominican, Franciscan and Benedictine orders. The Jesuits also had a great influence here. The city was devastated by an earthquake in 1667. After the second world war Josip Broz, known as Tito, was able to hold the disparate Balkan states together in the republic of Yugoslavia. Although a Communist state, it became part of the non-aligned group of states and in the 1960s opened up to tourism. After Titos death Croatia became independent. Their first president, Franjo Tudman, has given his name to the main bridge out of the city.
The homeland wars are still recent and too raw to be talked about. We are strongly advised in all the brochures not to mention the war to locals.
Dubrovnik is hot. A taxi takes us to the old town and we have a beer as we plan our afternoon. The Franciscan Monastery is the first stop.
It claims to house one of the oldest pharmacies, and it's worth a look and some illicit photos. Then we take a walk along the wall. The city is famous for it's wall. It is the walled city. This is an amazing sight. The only other example I've seen, and on a smaller scale is Carcasson, France. The roof tops are tightly packed and invariably made of new terracotta tiles. The old ones were lost in the blockade of recent years. The city has made an almost full recovery from those dark days.
Then we have a swim in the sea. Here in Croatia, people just get in wherever they can. The water is clear everywhere. There's a collection of people at the bottom of one part of the wall, by some rocks. So on with the speedos and into the water.
After the swim we lunch in the old town. I really fancied sardines. We sat down at one of the many fish restaurants. No sardines. At the next restaurant I ask 'Do you have any sardines' and add 'molin', Croatian for please. My attempt to endear myself falls flat. 'Yes, small fish' replies the waitress without expression and points to the menu. 'Fried' she continues. 'Could I have mine grilled?' I enquire innocently. 'No' she replies firmly but quizzically. We waited for the sardines expectantly and wondering what exactly we would get.
What came was whitebait. No wonder she was adamant they couldn't be grilled. They were good actually, especially washed down with a glass of wine.
The 'racun' please and we pay the bill. There are so many ancient and wondrous buildings, but an unexpected one was a highly ornate Eastern Orthodox church, recognisable by it's absence of pews.
We have another drink. The sun is hot, so we have another drink. Time to head back to the ferry port and we hail a taxi. Our friendly driver asks us how our day was. 'The war was good' I slur, and immediately correct myself. 'The wall, the wall'.
I think I got away with it.
The rest of the trip is in silence. Back to Sipan and another perfect evening meal. It's been a busy and tiring day.
Sunday, 22 August 2010
Sipan 2010
The following is what happened on our holiday in Sipan. The notes were written on paper and transferred to this blog. Since some followers have revealed that they prefer shorter pieces as their attention span is limited I shall do one day at a time.
15th August
This is day 1 and it begins uneventfully enough. We'd got over the 'House' thing and we're on our way. Books to read, yes. Alan Bennett's 'Telling Tales'. We call in at WH Smiths, and there it is. The book I've been looking for 'Adrian Mole: the prostate years' so I add this to my collection for the week. I shall enjoy re-acquainting myself with A A Mole.
The flight went smoothly apart from being told off by the air hostess for moving seats before the food was distributed. '
We have a dinner plan you know' she says rather tersely. We were moved back as the whole plane watched. You could feel the silent tutting from the other passengers. Sarah has also checked the price of this flight and it is now down to 68 pounds from over 200. Ah well.
Dubrovnik airport is the sort of airport you'd imagine in Eastern Europe. Not that Croatians are really Eastern European, more Mediterranean. The building is aging and rudimentary. It is little more than an airstrip. Getting through customs is easy. After collecting our luggage we go to meet our contact.
'Hello, my name is Ivan' a heavily accented large man greets us. 'You must come with me' he says mysteriously. 'Hello' I reply 'My name is Ivan too' hoping to build a bit of a rapport. No response. 'Follow me' he insists without expression.
He shows us to his van. The back window has been smashed. 'The summer air conditioning' he attempts a joke. Hmmm, we exchange a glance. I hope it wasn't shot out! We climb on board, then drive through to Dubrovnik on a fast road that doesn't quite seem adequate. It's like the opening scene from a James Bond film. The road is clutching the side of a steep hill side, with only a thin piece of metal between us and a sheer drop to the ocean. Ivan seems inpatient with the other drivers as if we're in some sort of time trial.
We screech to a halt at a port the other side of town and jump onto a speed boat. Ivan pushes the throttle full on and we skim across the water to our destination. First impressions are that these islands are perfect. The sun is hot, with a gentle breeze. The light is brilliant. The islands are greener than the Greek ones. The sea is a rich turquoise and clear.
The speed boat takes us right to the door of our hotel on Sipan. He helps us off. 'That will be 130 euros'. Sure, I wasn't expecting to have to pay cash, but luckily I've got it and pay him. We're glad to be here.
There is no sand or sandy beaches, but the rest of it is wonderful, unexploited and unspoilt. You'll be interested to know that a half litre of beer is 250 Kuna, that's about two pounds fifty. We lunch at the hotel on the quay side overlooking the bay that is to be our home for the next week.
Sipan is a volcanic island about five kilometers long, with a long deep channel up the centre of it leading to the open sea. This channel is about a kilometer long which means that the town at the far end, Sipanska Luka is completely protected from bad seas. It also means that the sea is more salty than the main ocean.
After exploring the village we went to the beach. The sand that is there forms a thin layer on what seems like a concrete base. Luckily I'd brought my snorkel and so I'm happy.
That evening we ate at the restaurant attached to the hotel. It's grilled fish tonight. On a Bar-B-Que. The ambiance is perfect as the sun sets. A cool breeze blows off the sea and rustles the palms and pine trees. As the sun sets, the fishing boats and tourist yachts are bobbing up and down in the harbour. The sun bounces off the ripples of water towards us as it sinks behind the distant hills of a neighbouring island and lights the clouds a brilliant purple. As the sky darkens the palm trees, up lit, contrasts dramatically green against black.
We have a mixed seafood starter, mainly fresh prawns. Then on to the main fish course. It promises to be perfect, all freshly cooked before our eyes.
The fish was cooked, just, but tasted of lighter fuel. Like when you've had trouble starting your own B-B-Q and had to squirt stuff on it to get the flames going. What a disappointment. Still it didn't take away from the wonderful start to our holiday.
15th August
This is day 1 and it begins uneventfully enough. We'd got over the 'House' thing and we're on our way. Books to read, yes. Alan Bennett's 'Telling Tales'. We call in at WH Smiths, and there it is. The book I've been looking for 'Adrian Mole: the prostate years' so I add this to my collection for the week. I shall enjoy re-acquainting myself with A A Mole.
The flight went smoothly apart from being told off by the air hostess for moving seats before the food was distributed. '
We have a dinner plan you know' she says rather tersely. We were moved back as the whole plane watched. You could feel the silent tutting from the other passengers. Sarah has also checked the price of this flight and it is now down to 68 pounds from over 200. Ah well.
Dubrovnik airport is the sort of airport you'd imagine in Eastern Europe. Not that Croatians are really Eastern European, more Mediterranean. The building is aging and rudimentary. It is little more than an airstrip. Getting through customs is easy. After collecting our luggage we go to meet our contact.
'Hello, my name is Ivan' a heavily accented large man greets us. 'You must come with me' he says mysteriously. 'Hello' I reply 'My name is Ivan too' hoping to build a bit of a rapport. No response. 'Follow me' he insists without expression.
He shows us to his van. The back window has been smashed. 'The summer air conditioning' he attempts a joke. Hmmm, we exchange a glance. I hope it wasn't shot out! We climb on board, then drive through to Dubrovnik on a fast road that doesn't quite seem adequate. It's like the opening scene from a James Bond film. The road is clutching the side of a steep hill side, with only a thin piece of metal between us and a sheer drop to the ocean. Ivan seems inpatient with the other drivers as if we're in some sort of time trial.
We screech to a halt at a port the other side of town and jump onto a speed boat. Ivan pushes the throttle full on and we skim across the water to our destination. First impressions are that these islands are perfect. The sun is hot, with a gentle breeze. The light is brilliant. The islands are greener than the Greek ones. The sea is a rich turquoise and clear.
The speed boat takes us right to the door of our hotel on Sipan. He helps us off. 'That will be 130 euros'. Sure, I wasn't expecting to have to pay cash, but luckily I've got it and pay him. We're glad to be here.
There is no sand or sandy beaches, but the rest of it is wonderful, unexploited and unspoilt. You'll be interested to know that a half litre of beer is 250 Kuna, that's about two pounds fifty. We lunch at the hotel on the quay side overlooking the bay that is to be our home for the next week.
Sipan is a volcanic island about five kilometers long, with a long deep channel up the centre of it leading to the open sea. This channel is about a kilometer long which means that the town at the far end, Sipanska Luka is completely protected from bad seas. It also means that the sea is more salty than the main ocean.
After exploring the village we went to the beach. The sand that is there forms a thin layer on what seems like a concrete base. Luckily I'd brought my snorkel and so I'm happy.
That evening we ate at the restaurant attached to the hotel. It's grilled fish tonight. On a Bar-B-Que. The ambiance is perfect as the sun sets. A cool breeze blows off the sea and rustles the palms and pine trees. As the sun sets, the fishing boats and tourist yachts are bobbing up and down in the harbour. The sun bounces off the ripples of water towards us as it sinks behind the distant hills of a neighbouring island and lights the clouds a brilliant purple. As the sky darkens the palm trees, up lit, contrasts dramatically green against black. We have a mixed seafood starter, mainly fresh prawns. Then on to the main fish course. It promises to be perfect, all freshly cooked before our eyes.
The fish was cooked, just, but tasted of lighter fuel. Like when you've had trouble starting your own B-B-Q and had to squirt stuff on it to get the flames going. What a disappointment. Still it didn't take away from the wonderful start to our holiday.
Saturday, 14 August 2010
We're on our holidays
So here I am watching 'House' on my holidays. Sarah is upstairs packing and I'm here watching House. It's not like there's anything else on, there isn't, it's just that no one has asked me. What am I to do? Just watch it I suppose. Still it would be nice to be asked, as I'm a guest, and these guy's do nothing but watch House all day.
Friday, 13 August 2010
Dubrovnik here we come
Emily has gone back now. It was lovely to see her, of course, and also meet her 'young man'. It was his birthday too on Tuesday. Mine next Monday.
This morning I have to sort out my accounts. In fact I don't know why I'm doing this now. I should be sorting out my stuff.
I'm also putting the finishing touches to the plan to provide Cardiology services in the practice. This time it may really come off! I could spend all my time doing this ... I wonder?
Anyway, before all that I have a week in Croatia to look forward to. Yesterday, here, it rained and rained, how wonderful it will be to just lie in the sun. Talking of which the price of flights to Mauritius is coming down again, so must remember to book them on return from holidays.
This morning I have to sort out my accounts. In fact I don't know why I'm doing this now. I should be sorting out my stuff.
I'm also putting the finishing touches to the plan to provide Cardiology services in the practice. This time it may really come off! I could spend all my time doing this ... I wonder?
Anyway, before all that I have a week in Croatia to look forward to. Yesterday, here, it rained and rained, how wonderful it will be to just lie in the sun. Talking of which the price of flights to Mauritius is coming down again, so must remember to book them on return from holidays.
Friday, 6 August 2010
Emily's coming home
Emily is home tomorrow - yeay. With new boyfriend Sean. It's weird her being away for so long, and the longer she stays the more likely it is to become permanent. Still whatever makes her happy. I'll always be proud of her and be there for her. I wonder what this Sean is going to be like then. No pressure on him I guess. Shall I do the fierce, fatuous or hilariously funny father? I don't know yet, I'll be meeting him tomorrow. Better be sensible I suppose.
Lizzy is waiting for her 'A' level results in a week or so. I'm so proud of her too. Let me make it clear, I'm proud of all of my children in equal measure, and will be proud of Lizzie whatever her results. She wants to go into a very demanding profession, social work. She has a distant aunt who is high up in the Aussy system. It would be good if she did a placement out there. I'd go with her of course.
What about Rachel, you can't say fairer than top marks in her year at Uni? She's working too long hours as a waitress. Jonny, I've spoken of recently anyway, and is, as far as I know, safe and well and on the way to Santiago.
I have a new charge though. Hammid is a nineteen year old from Afghanistan. He is seeking refugee status but the crazy system is blocking him. His father was shot by the Taliban and his brother too. He was smuggled here in a van, but because he had to stop in France when he developed appendicitis, he can't seek asylum here, only in the first port of call. He's scared witless, but the authorities wont listen. meanwhile, I'm determined to keep him safe.
I'll be 54 at the end of this week. 54 years OLD
Lizzy is waiting for her 'A' level results in a week or so. I'm so proud of her too. Let me make it clear, I'm proud of all of my children in equal measure, and will be proud of Lizzie whatever her results. She wants to go into a very demanding profession, social work. She has a distant aunt who is high up in the Aussy system. It would be good if she did a placement out there. I'd go with her of course.
What about Rachel, you can't say fairer than top marks in her year at Uni? She's working too long hours as a waitress. Jonny, I've spoken of recently anyway, and is, as far as I know, safe and well and on the way to Santiago.
I have a new charge though. Hammid is a nineteen year old from Afghanistan. He is seeking refugee status but the crazy system is blocking him. His father was shot by the Taliban and his brother too. He was smuggled here in a van, but because he had to stop in France when he developed appendicitis, he can't seek asylum here, only in the first port of call. He's scared witless, but the authorities wont listen. meanwhile, I'm determined to keep him safe.
I'll be 54 at the end of this week. 54 years OLD
Monday, 2 August 2010
Relief
It is with great relief that I can announce that Jonny has been able to pick up the money I sent him through Western Union. It was accompanied by a phone call from a very relieved Jonny too. It is still amazing to me that the money transfer could have happened at all, so far away.
There we are then. It saves me wondering how he will survive.
Emily is coming home this weekend, for a week. I'm looking forward to that too. I haven't seen her for what seems like ages. I do miss her greatly.
On another, more exciting note, Sarah and I are going to Sipan Island, Croatia for a week. It looks absolutely spectacular. I can't wait. I have found a photo of the place.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
