It was the third
European destination I visited. Vienna was the first i visited; but it seemed
too spic and span. Budapest had only
been free for seven years. It gained its freedom in 1989 with “the velvet
revolution” and still had that communist diaspora about it. The free delights
of capitalism hadn’t turned it upside down.
The funny thing
is that there was nothing physically solid about forty years of communism. You
can tell it happened by the gentle backwardness of this place. But nothing
Soviet is left. Its all been consigned to a museum and consigned to history.
The truth is most liberal and affluent iron curtain cities, it programme of
enlightened communism meant a better standard of living for its inhabitants. The
transition between old and new has been smoother than any other countries.
Modern history
is alive and well in Budapest. There was a sense of great things happening
here. Of course I was one of the first. Along with Prague there was a sense of
occasion. That we were exploring new territory. The best thing to do is just
walk the streets. There is such a sense of history here. The inhabitants have
witnessed the invasion and destruction and nearly forty years under the
communists.
Budapest is
divided into two parts. Buda and Obuda west of the Danube (Duna) and Pest to
the east. They are connected by numerous bridges including the famous chain
bridge. If you want peace and quiet stay in Buda, but for nightlife and
shopping, Pest is best.
Homestays
are a good idea and an absolute bargain. Those old ladies at Keleti-pu station
holding pictures of accommodation are genuine and very useful. They aren't as
sweet as they look.There truth is that you can splash out here. The devalued
forint goes along way
One thing that
benefited under the communists was public transport. Numerous buses and trams
dot the city. The trams in particular are full of old character and rattle
along the river shore. There is an underground system consisting of four lines
each connecting each other to the overground stations. One of the most
interesting is the one on Andrassy Utca where you walk from the roadside
straight onto the platform.
But Budapest is
full of new experiences
Trabants
creaking along, Horos Ter, rattling trams, the ‘Labyrinth, baboons at Budapest
zoo, ‘Action’ Bar, the tight lipped attendants in the museum, the gruff hotel
attendant with large moustache, Ottoman bathouses, Moskva Ter, St Matyas
templedom.....Lion Courtyard... the Cardinal of Budapest...Gellert Hill....oh,
and the Magyars...
Every city in Italy has it's Piazza. Some are world famous such as San Marco or San
Pietro but each fills a communal need to promenade, relax or be part of the
city that they live in.
One of the most impressive is the Piazza di
Maggiore in Bologna. It dates back to the 12th century with its gothic
buildings and palaces and from here the ruby colonnaded streets fan out in a
great wheel shape. To sit in Piazza di Maggiore is to watch the great show that
is living in Italy where academics sit and read newspapers, old men walk up and
down, and teenagers talk into mobile phones. And take a look around - no
tourists! Just how many cities in Italy can you say that...
The star of the show is Piazza di Maggiore. All
roads in Bologna lead to this magnificent piazza and the two main shopping
streets Ugo Bassi and Via Rizzoli spoke out from its northern edge. Ugo Bassi
is an elegant shopping street enhanced by medieval porticoes (see photo).
Here the shoppers can wander from Benetton to
Prada without being exposed to the elements and can concentrate on looking good
as they do it. It is not just enough to shop in Bologna but to look good as you
shop as well. At the end of Ugo Bassi near where it opens up into the Piazza is
a medieval fountain. Water has been gushing into a horsetrough here for 700
years, and as have probably the old men who sit nearby commenting on every
passing signoria who struts past.
But as you approach the Piazza your eye will be
drawn to the Fontana di Netune (see photo). This baroque masterpiece was
erected in 1640 and looks its best when a sunny sky shows it off against the
orange buildings behind. It is a dark marble statue of the Sea god with trident
who is poised above four seagoddesse's with water gushing from their breasts.
It is the focal point of the city and there are always a few teenagers sitting
at its base.
As you continue the Piazza opens up and its size
can be appreciated. On the west side is the Palazzo de Enzo which
dates from the 14th century and is topped with dark crenellations and a green
statue embedded halfway up the wall. On the north side is the incredible
Palazzo de Podesta with its porticoes and cafes which spill into the Piazza.
Next year Bologna will be one of the European cities of culture (one of
ten!)and it was festooned with flags from all the 56 European nations.
Underneath its porticoes is a very useful
touristico (tourist information office) and they can sort you out a walking
tour of the city or help in any way they can. But the pride of the Piazza has
to be the church of St Petronius. Built in the 13th century as principal place
of worship for the university and it's dons it is one of the most important
buildings in the city. We were lucky to catch the end of a Sunday service and
the air of devotion was very contagious. Not brilliantly endowed with statues
and frescoes this is a community church rather then a tourist attraction but
worth your time nonetheless.
To the right of the church is the start of Via
Massimo D'Allegio. This delightful porticoed street was full of fashionable
boutiques and shops. In the early morning sun it was bright orange in colour
and it was fun to window shop and imagine you can afford the 300,000 lira
hand-crafted shoes.
If you follow this round you will come across
Piazza Garibaldi. Nearly every street in Bologna is named after a
revoloutionary and this one had a white marble statue. Set off against the
apricot buildings and sapphire sky - this became my favourite Piazza in
Bologna. Under its porticoes is one of the best academic bookshops in Bologna,
and its English language section is excellent and can absorb you for hours.
But Piazza di Maggiore and around really comes
alive at night. The Bolognese take their 'passeigetta' seriously and dress up
in their best clothes. They make a circuit of the Piazza, nodding to friends,
and taking a coffee in the cafes while listening to bands playing. You too can
join in the performance and take a table under the Palazzo de Podesta. Arm
yourself with a cinzano, put on your dark glasses, and - who knows? - you may
get away with being an Italian
"And did those
feet in ancient time Walk upon England's mountain green? And was the holy Lamb
of God? On England's pleasant pastures seen?"
William Blake,
1757-1837
And did these
feet in ancient times walk upon the hills of Glastonbury? The feet Blake refers
to belong to Jesus Christ. Did our Lord walk the hills of Somerset two thousand
years ago?
Well, it is
possible. His uncle was Joseph of Arimathea who owned concessions in the nearby
tin mines and there is a chance, however slim, of the infant Jesus accompanying
his uncle on a trading expedition. He could indeed have visited
the tiny village of Glastonbury....
For this ancient
town is one of the centres of Christianity in Britain. It it in fact a vortex
of many religions - pagan and Christian - and a well of legends and myth's.
This is where King Arthur and Queen Guinevere are supposed to have been buried.
This was where Joseph of Arimathea struck his staff into the ground and a 'holy
thorn' sprung forth and is said to be the final resting place of the holy grail. Glastonbury is immersed in the mythical,
even mystical, idea of Engand. Side by side with the ruins of one of the most
ancient of Abbey's is a new age town immersed in crystals and spiritual
healing. In Glastonbury you can be at one with nature or god, worshipping the
earthmother while a neighbour worships at the shrine of St Dunstan or St
Bridget. The very air of Glastonbury fizzles with beliefs and spirituality.
Part of this is
due to the fact that Glastonbury is so remote. For most of it's history it was
an island surrounded by Somerset marshes. King Arthur's remains were mean't to
have been brought by boat to Glastonbury Tor which is a massive hill on the
outskirts of town and may be the fabled 'Isle of Avalon'. A
lone tower surmounts the Tor with sweeping views of the Somerset countryside.
In pagan times this would have been a remote island, surrounded by mists,
marshes and forests. It is still a devil to get to being twenty miles from Bath
and only four from Wells - the best way of reaching it is by car. On public
transport this takes some doing. The #173 bus leaves
Bath bus station at five minutes past each hour, it takes a further one and a
half hours to reach Wells. Buses between Wells and Glastonbury occur every half
hour.A £5 bus pass allows unlimited travel in Somerset for the day and is
excellent value. It can be seen as a day trip from Bath, but I think it is best
to stay overnight - there are a number of cheap hotels and hostels in the town.
Early building
goes back to 650AD when the beginnings of a small church appear. St Dunstan
enlarged this church and by the Middle Ages this had become the great
Benedictine Abbey. Glastonbury was one of the wealthiest Abbeys in England, its
last Abbot, Richard Whiting, played a major part in the administration of
Renaissance England. This great monastery drew pilgrims from all over the
country. The pilgrims found in Glastonbury what they were seeking spiritually
and brought with them wealth which was donated to the Abbey. The Abbey grew in
strength and prosperity and around the monastery grew up a picturesque town
supporting the the monks with local services of every kind.
Domesday came in
1539. Masterminded by Thomas Cromwell 'The dissoloution of the Monasteries'
came into being. All those who opposed King Henry VIII's succession as head of
the English church were ruthlessly dealt with. When Cromwells commissioners
arrived they thieved all the gold plate, and Abbot Richard Whiting stuck to his
guns about the Pope being god's representative on earth not the King. Richard
Whiting was marched up to Glastonbury Tor then hung and beheaded. The monks
were pensioned off and they reduced the mighty Abbey to dust.
Not quite dust...
The ruins of Glastonbury Abbey stand in the middle of
the town. Moody and magnificent they are the highlight of a trip to this
mysterious town and should be your first port of call when you arrive. It
occupies the centre of town in a huge park - the High Street occupies the
western part with it's crystal shops and organic restaurants. The northern road
is Chilkwell Street which leads to the Tor and Chalice Well, the eastern road
is Beare Street and the road which has the entrance on to the south is
Magdalene Street. Here you will find the bus stop to Wells and the car-park for
visitors. Glastonbury Abbey is open from 9.00am to 6.00pm and
costs £3.50 to enter. Allow at least an hour to do the
site justice and make sure you pick up a map of this extensive parkland and
it's many ruins.
The museum will
be your first stop and it is worth it to have a look at the scale model of the
Abbey. But it is when you step outside that you get the feel of what it
actually looked like. The ruined nave of the Abbey is absolutely massive (see
photo) and stretches for 100ft. Crumbling grey stone greets you with walls
still a metre thick. All windows, gates and interiors have gone leaving a
windswept shell with grass growing on it's cracked roof. Even it's corpse is
still impressive with transept walls over 50ft into the air and covered in
carved stone tracery. Looking north towards the nave are the great arches
supporting the fanned ceiling, now the walls are ragged and battered by the
elements.
A small cross
stands where grass now grows in the nave. This cross marks the spot where the
tomb of Arthur and Guinevere were buried. They were dug up in 1278 and interred
by the monks watched over by King Edward I (he of 'Braveheart' fame)
but for a thousand years this is where they lay. For many years they were
interred under the altar but disappeared during the sacking of the Abbey. I
think that is probably the worst of the crimes committed here. It was at this
point that I got angry at the vandalism of King Henry VIII - the closest
England has ever got to a dictator. A little recompense came later when I found
out that he repented this desecration on his deathbed.
Away from the
shell of the church the great park covers the site of the Abbey where the ruins
of cloisters can be seen. The medieval herb garden still stands, although very
overgrown. But the best thing is the Abbot's kitchen.
This was the only building to survive the desecration and stands alone with a
pointed roof. Inside were huge fireplaces and hooks where entire oxen were
hung. Monks would live a very freugal diet of bread and wine. The Abbots,
however, had time and money to entertain wonderfully. Their ingredients were
laid out on a table - barley, vegetables, cheddar cheeses, malt hops and fresh
meat and fish. These monks had a simple life but a contented one.
I thought on
this as I was leaving. The ruins of the Abbey looked sad and forlorn in the
fading light. But they were still powerful, a testament to what man can do
another in the name of religion.
In summer the
city glows. The sunshine heats the city up. The sunshine you can feel on the
back of your neck as you wander around the Barri Gotic. It washes over the
rooftops and lights up those stallholders on Las Ramblas and those art students
coming out of Picasso and Jean Miro. ~Because Barcelona humms with art, From Casa
Mila to Gaudi’s Sagrada Familia.
The city itself
is spectacular. Spreading out across the medditerranean shores it is hemmed in
by mountains to the north and the great port to the south. For the 1992
Olympics (which in my view were the most classy in living memory)the whole city
was spruced up and now shines and gleams with modern architecture. But the best
things to do are just wander around. The walk down the most famous street in
Spain - La Ramblas - is a highlight - and one that you will return to again and
again....
Time seems to
float by in Barcelona. Just walking and enjoying the streets will fill your
days. But it is no Shangri-La. Petty crime is rife and the warnings that you
have heard about the Barri Gotic, especially in the Barri Xines, are true. Keep
your eyes peeled and your wallet close.
But my best tip
to you is the Font Magica. Between 7.30pm -10.30pm in summer, the great
fountain underneath the Palau National is lit up and dances and moves to
classical music. This is one of the highlights of Spain, in fact, in all of
Europe. While we were there they played plenty of crowd pleasers. Star Wars,
Gone with the wind were played but the great movement was the opening strains
of ‘Sleeping Beauty’. But the big battle is being Freddie Mercury and Montserrat Caballe singing 'Barcelona'
I think the
Barcelona public transport system is one of the best in the world. For 150
pesetas (80p/.50) you can ride all around the city on swift, clean underground
trains. Buses are excellent and the great hub is the Placa de Catalunya where
they fan out (including a useful one to the airport). But for trips out of the
city the trains are your best bet. A train station lies under Placa de
Catalunya and you can reach Sitges and Tarragona listening to piped classical
music as you look out of the window.
Another note,
you are in Catalunya now, which is different from the rest of Spain. You will
notice the yellow and red flags of Catalunya draped over everything and they
have their own history and culture (see later entry on Museo de Catalunya).It's
quite a shock after just mastering everything Castilean to suddenly switch to
Catalan
My
most vivid memory of sumptuous Wat Po has to be the dragonflies.
They flit around
the compound like little buzzing jewels in the heat. You can hear and see them
everywhere and for me were one of the reasons why this magnificent temple is
one of the highlights of Bangkok. The entire place dazzles with it's tapering
prau's and golden buddha statues. When you see the spires and gold leaf of the
temple from a distance across the Bangkok skyline, especially when it is lit up
at night, you remember why you were inspired to visit Thailand in the first
place.
The temple
compound predates the city of Bangkok. It's white walls were there when there
was nothing of Bangkok but a marshy bend in the river. It dates from the 17th
century when it was known as Wat Potaram. Only we foreigners call it the old
name - Wat Po - Thai's call it Wat Pha Chetaphon after the name of the road it
is situated on. But the most satisfying thing about Wat Po is that it is still
an active monastery. Thai monks in their saffron robes and shaved heads are in
profusion here and not only is it a religious retreat but a centre of learning.
Religious tutors taught novices astrology, history, literature and theology.
Wat Po could be considered one of Thailands first universities. On your travels
around the Wat you will bump into many of these monks. Many Thai's as children
do a little time as monks and to catch a teaching session underneath a banyan
tree with elder monks speaking to wide-eyed novices is to catch a little bit of
magical Thailand.
To get there is
relatively simple. It is literally a hop, skip and jump from the amazing Grand
Palace. When you leave the palace turn left, and left again until you reach
Maharaj Road which runs paralell to the river. If you follow the white
crenellated walls of the Grand Palace for 200m you will see the spires and
praus of the temple. From the river, Tha Thien is the closest waterbus stop,
and from Siam Square the fare in a tuk-tuk costs about 50 baht. This is one of
the major attractions in Thailand so there are always hawkers, drink-sellars
and tuk-tuk drivers buzzing around the entrance which costs 125 baht
(£2/$3.50). You will be offered the services of a guide for an extra 100 bahts
- this is a good idea because he can tell you about the amazing detail and
history of the place. Also, another word of advice stock up on cold water.
There is none to be had in there and the humidity and high temperature means
dehydration is a real problem.
The compound is
massive, over 400 ft long. Most tourists head straight for the temple of the
Reclining Buddha which is just to the right of the entrance but there are
plenty of other attractions. The gigantic Ubosoth (ordination hall) stands in
the centre of the compound and is surrounded by a concentric cloister, and the
royal chedi is between this and the entrance. But it is the forest of chedis in
the compound that is stunning. There must be about 100 of these, and each one
was a round base of inlaid porcelain sweeping up in a bulbous mass to a
tapering point (see photo). A pair of 12ft Chinese warrior statues guard the
outer entrance to the compound and look almost disneylike with their Fu Manchu
moustaches and rich robes (see photo). These are not the only statues in the
compound - there are 200 year old statues of farang's (foreigners) with straw
hats and oversize features. To add to the attraction huge dragonflies as big as
your hand buzz around the chedi's and ornamental shrubs.
At the back of
the Wat is a massage school. For 50 baht old Thai women will lay on hands while
you stretch out on mats. But it was the southern side of the Bot which
interested me as they led into the cloisters leading to the Ordination hall.
The cloisters themselves contained long glass cases of priceless statues of the
Buddha rescued from Ayutthaya or Sukhothai. Each was seated in a cross-legged
fashion, 4ft high and covered in gold leaf - they wore beatific expressions,
coiled hair and were dressed in the red robes of the monks around them. There
must have been about forty of them in one cloister. As I did wander around the
compound I bumped into numerous peaceful monks who still in quiet contemplation
adding to the tranquility of the place. What we forget is that these
monasteries are holy residences in Bangkok, tourists are wandering around the
monks workplace, home and place of worship.
I got an idea of
this as I approached the 100ft high Ordination hall where a low chanting was
emanating. I removed my boots and stepped over the temple threshold, and
careful not to show the soles of my feet to the Lord Buddha (a big no-no in
Thailand), sat down at the back. A number of robed monks were sitting on a dais
acknowledging a chant from an old monk on a rostrum. High above was a golden
Buddha atop a dais of gilt which contrasted with the decor of the temple which
was bright scarlet. I sat cross-legged for ten minutes until the last monk left
and lapped up the contemplatative atmosphere and the sheer exoticness of it
all.
But the star of
the show is the 'Temple of the Reclining Buddha' which is on all the tour bus
itineries. The viharn containing this stands near the entrance and is over 70ft
long. Inside a 50ft long statue of the Buddha sleeping on his side with his arm
under his head. He is covered in shiny gold from his curled head to his
mother-of-pearl feet and is lit by oil lamps. For a few baht you can drop forty
small coins into forty bowls and the giant golden titan may grant you a wish.
There is no
doubt that Wat Po is one of the great sights of Bangkok and I rate it above the
Grand Palace. You get a sense that you are intruding on something here, that
holy life goes on around you and that you have to fit into it. If you are
willing to do so - to take off your boots and enjoy the chanting and holy air -
then Wat Po will be your most rewarding experience in Bangkok.
Athens, for all its
attractions, is also one of the biggest travel fulcrums in the world.
From here tourists head off in a dozen
directions. The famous islands seem to be the most popular destination and many
visitors roll off the airplane, spend a day gawping at the Acropolis, then head
straight for the ferries. From Piraeus you can reach the Dodecanese, the
Sporades, Rhodes, Crete and even Israel and Egypt. Every traveller in the world
does the Greek ferries at one point. They are part of world mythology. For many
people the sunshine and sand of the myriad of islands is a lure as strong as
the 'song of Circe'. And most pass through the memorable port of Piraeus.
And this is a port of the old school. Greece is
all about experiences and in this age of the modern airplane it is one of the
few places in the world where you can partake of a "voyage" such
those which went on before the age of jet travel. You can experience the
mooring rope being thrown off, the last passengers making a dash for the
gangplank and that feeling of excitement in the pit of your stomach that an
adventure has just started.Of course it is not all about the glamour of
travelling by ship. Piraeus is a big grimy port handling millions of
passengers. The peak rush hour happens very early in the morning (when the
ships leave) and late in the afternoon (when the ships come in). In between
it's a bustling suburb which still gets its living from the sea.
Practicalities
So you want to get to the islands?
There are ticket agents galore around the METRO
station and along the quayside. But the last thing you want is to be stuck in
the queue for a ticket while your ship gets ready to raise anchor. I recommend
buying a ticket the day before. There are numerous travel agencies in central
Athens especially around Omonia Square. But be careful - I bought one to
Mykonos the day I arrived, and when I doublechecked the Polish ticket agent
sold me a ship departing from Patras over 40 miles from Athens - so I had to go
back and change it. Ticket prices start at about 20 euros to the Cyclades and
up to 60 euros for as far away as Crete and Rhodes. Also, if you can, try and
book a seat. The advantages of this will become obvious later in this journal.
OK, you are clutching your little ticket. How do
I get to the boats from Central Athens. Athens' new spiffy METRO, polished in
time for the 2004 Olympics, will whisk you there from Omonia, Akropolis or
Syntagma. The journey takes about half an hour and the ticket is about 6 euros.
There are two "rush hours" from Piraeus, early morning and late
evening, and both create quite a crush in the METRO carriages. Taxis to Piraeus
from Omonia/Syntagma only cost about 8 euros.
When you get there most of the crowds will be
heading in the same direction as you. Head out the side entrance and to the
south of here the great ships, hundreds of feet high, loom out of the darkness.
Whatever you do - go by the ferry company name. If you are lucky you may have
"Blue Star" or "Minoan" lit up in neon letters making
things easier. The ships to the Cyclades are directly across from the METRO
station. But the Argo-Saronic ships are further along the port and the direct
ships to Crete are a five minute walk away. Separating the METRO station from
the water is a busy road called Akti Kalimasioti - part of the refurbishment of
Piraeus means there is an escalator/footbridge connecting with the other side.
The Ferries
So you have found your ship and patiently queue
to be let on. Firstly, they make you stow your luggage in the hold. No one is
allowed their luggage up on deck with them. Therefore your luggage will be put
in a pile with hundreds of others, make sure you remember exactly where you
stowed it so as to avoid any embarrassing panics when you disembark. I didn't -
and I am still under the psychotherapist.
Up on deck there is no doubt the ferries have
improved from the creaking rust buckets of yesteryear but these cash-cows still
try to cram in as many people as possible. Every conceivable space will be full
of people - families will grab tables, backgammon sets will be brought out and
people set up camp in the passageways. That is why it is important to prebook
seats. The reserved area has aircraft style seats with good views outside the
windows. There are restaurants and coffee bars aboard the ferries but most
serve snack food, not a sit down meal. Many passengers bring their own
provisions.
But if you can spend as much time as you can on
the upper deck. The views can be stupendous - we had the great white bulk of
the 'Oriana' cruiseliner pass us by as we left Piraeus. And Piraeus itself
looks impressive at night with all the buildings lit up in the darkness.. But
best of all are the islands as you pass by. Before you reach your destination
you are likely to stop at a minimum of two. And as amusing as the mad scramble
of motorbikes and tourists up the gangplank is - nothing quite beats the sight
of the islands themselves with their starkly barren brown cliffs, Mediterranean
architecture, wheeling gulls, and medieval fishing villages -all washed in
golden Aegean sunlight.
You could see an elephant think this as he
rubbed his backside against a scratching post.
The scratching post was a simple tree trunk in
the forest. It was obviously a favourite place of a small herd we encountered
that included mother and baby. A young tusker was a big attraction and was
throwing dust over his grey back. Elephants are so watchable – they are always
interacting with each other. But all of Lake Manyara National Park has been
good. I like the way it is a small corridor of land squeezed between the 300ft
escarpment and the soda lake. Streams run down from the cliffs and hot springs
burst from the ground and run all the way to the lake. There are volcanic
forces at work in East Africa and nowhere is it more evident than in Lake
Manyara.
It’s reachable through the Maasai tourist town
of Mwo wa Mbu at the foot of the escarpment. The entrance is at the western end
of town and you know you are there due to gigantic baobab trees covered in the
guano of pelicans and storks. Entrance is high $35 per person plus 10,000
schillings per vehicle. The forest begins almost immediately and I thoroughly
recommend the visitors centre which allows you to wander the forest on a number
of cane walkways. The visitors centre explains how water is important to the
park and has a few interesting exhibits. I didn’t know the John Wayne action
film "Hatari" was filmed here in the fifties.
Then we drove along the forest trail. What makes
Manyara different is that it is not like most game parks with wide open spaces
as it is mostly forest. Underground springs mean abundant vegetation – sausage
trees, acacia scrub, banana trees, open meadows and baobab trees looking
"Gothic" against the sky. This same vegetation began to move next to
us and a Sykes monkey was looking at us from the branches. You like monkeys?
Manyara is bursting with them. It has the biggest population of baboons in the
world. These began to emerge from the forest and looked like they were
travelling in armies. Dozens at a time would cross the track. Babies clung to
their mother’s undersides, teenagers would stop and watch you and older baboons
– the big males –would take their time to show who was boss.
Then the park turned Elysian.
The park at this point opens up in green meadows
and bubbling brooks. It was a favourite with elephants who appeared next to the
track. Their huge grey bulks tearing up the green grass. We all gasped as we
entered a glade babbled down surrounded by green vegetation. There with his
back to us was a huge elephant with a leathery back. He saw us but continued
sucking up water with his trunk and squirting it into his mouth. Our guide,
George, got very excited at seeing a rare Bushbuck on the other bank. To see
this tiny antelope with its small horns and delicate build wait patiently to
drink was a real thrill.
The elephant itself took an interest in us –
knowing that we were no threat he came up to 1ft of the van and watched us with
his beady eye. Nothing beats the thrill of getting close to really big game.
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