World travels from a thoughtful Londoner

Sunday, April 13, 2014

Sydney - Where 'The Rocks' means the harbour and Australian kitsch begins

After the Opera House, this is generally the second of Sydney's icons that visitors make for.

It stands at the tip of the city as it extends into the harbour. The area around it is one of the most historically important in Australia - the much vaunted 'The Rocks'. An age old rookery of thieves and ne'er do wells. Nowadays it has been gentrified almost to the point where it looks like a theme park with its glitzy boutiques, hotels and restaurants. But its a nice place to sit in the sunshine, order a barramundi and take a sip of a good Australian shiraz.

Most people approach the bridge from the half-moon of Circular Quay. But the main thoroughfare of George Street extends all the way through "The Rocks" until it passes under the bridge. The Bridge itself is entered from the south/CBD by the Bradfield Highway, a motorway that takes you to Sydney's northern suburbs. King George V Memorial Park stands under this highway and also has the entrance to the Bridge Climb. This is expensive at $110 Australian dollars and although I didn't partake I could view them from below taking the "riggers" route and looking tiny against the bulk of the bridge. My friend says you are not allowed to take your own camera up with you in case you drop it on passing cars below. Therefore you have to pay for a "group photo" for $24.

A good place to spot them slowly inching up the arch of the bridge is at the northern point of Dawes Point Park. Its a lovely paved promenade dotted with palm trees overlooking the water. The underside of the bridge is hundreds of feet above you, and the support pylons look like castles. If you need confirmation that the bridge was a engineering marvel then this is the place to come. Incidentally, Sydney was still paying for this bridge until 1988.

As mentioned, the bridge stands at the tip of "The Rocks." They have taken a great deal of care in renovating 'The Rocks' in what was until the seventies one of Sydney's roughest districts. But in many ways they have polished away its former ambience. It had a notoriously rakish past with brawling, press-ganging and low-life taverns—and it takes some work in the minds eye to imagine. Most of its 19th-century streets are well preserved—shops have original facades, etc. Some of the past dangerous alleyways, those once home to sailor muggings and robberies, now house opal shops, designer boutiques and "Aussie Teddy Bear" emporiums.

Despite the cuddly koalas and boomerangs this is an area worth exploring. Argyle Stores is still made of its original 18th-century sandstone and Wharf House steps is suitably old and creepy. But I think to get a full taste of "the Rocks" you must take a guided tour from the Tourist Information Centre. Then the legacy of Australia's oldest district comes startlingly to life

Toledo - The theme of "Concerto de Aranjuez" echoes in your head

Your first view of Toledo will take your breath away.

A great brown spread of buildings on a rocky mound isolated on three sides by the looping gorge of the Rio Tajo. Every inch of this outcrop has been built upon - Iglesias, synagogues, brown-roofed houses, ramparts and mosques. Most prominent are the cream-coloured spires of the catedral and the four-cornered fortress of the Alcazar looming over everything else. This is the city of the moor and the conquistador, of the church and the peasant. This is Old Spain, and a world away from the Costa resorts and their flamenco nights. If you want to experience the soul and heart of this fantastic country, come here.

To reach the city takes a strenuous effort. Unless you get the bus from the station to Plaza Zocovodar a tough walk is called for at a great angle. This is the more authentic way to enter the city and one can imagine donkeys laden with baggage winding their way up the trail. It is also the quickest way from the train station, though I would not advise it to anyone who is unfit. Across from the busy Paseo are the banks of the Rio Tajo, and spanning the rocky cliffs of the gorge into the city as it has done for a thousand years is the Fuente de Alcantar. This cream coloured bridge with its high gate tower gives fantastic views of the gorge and the start of the trail into Toledo. Cars growl up steep gradients and the trail seems to go up and up until you finally spill into Museo Santa Cruz on Plaza Zocovodar.

From here the city spreads around you and the mazelike streets begin. You may have focus to your wandering, and I would suggest the Alcazar and Catedral as unmissable, but the fun is ducking into these little passageways to see where they would take you. Some of the alleys were so narrow I could touch them with outstretched hands and every turning I took was lined with latticed brown buildings and hot cobbles. Cars have an especially rough time in Toledo. And every once in a while I would have to duck into a doorway as one would try and squeeze by. The narrow passageways showed no sign of life behind their shuttered doorways but once in a while but once in a while I could see a tiled courtyard or medieval balcony. Eventually you will blunder out onto a sight, because with every twist and turn Toledo offers something new.

I found the mezquita. Of all the peoples to inhabit Toledo the Moors were the ones who made it look the way it does today. They lived in the city until the reconquista of 1492 where they were expelled from Spain. Up to then they had been living side by side with their Christian and Jewish neighbours. The remains of the mosque could be seen, and it was still possible to see the oriental decoration and carved pillars. Then it was out onto the ramparts of the city for sweeping views of the Rio Tajo and the Castilian plain beyond. The atmosphere was so Spanish that you could almost hear the guitar strings of Rodrigo's "Concierto de Aranjuez" float above the rooftops. I fell in love with the place there and then.....

When you look out over the rooftops of Venice, you look at the most perfectly preserved cit

yscape in Europe.

You become a medieval Venetian when you enter this unique city. Cars are banned, so everyone takes to the narrow streets just as they did 800 years ago. Travel is still by water with vaporettos taking the place of the thousands of gondolas that used to ply the Bacino San Marco. And the silence is palpable - broken only by the tramp of feet, church bells, and toots from vessels in the Adriatic.

To get even closer to the history of this city, a visit to the Musei Correr (City Museum) is a must. Combine this with a trip up the Campanile, it rounds off the sights in the Piazza San Marco. Until, of course, the next time you get the urge to visit Venice..

Musei Correr - 9.00am-7.00pm

The Musei Correr is linked with a combined ticket with the Palazzo Ducale for about 18,000 lira so you may find yourself visiting it just to get your money's worth. It is situated in the Ala Napoleonica on the western edge of the Piazza where you step through the colonnades to enter western Castello and the route to the Academia. It once served as the offices of the civil servants who ran the Venetian Empire. The entrance is under the Procuraties and up a marble staircase.

There was something of the drawing room in this museum which housed the cities bric-a-brac and each gallery is covered in portraits of dour looking Doges. Venice's relationship with the sea was commemorated with models of galleons and watercolours of the Battle of Lepanto in 1571. The maps on the wall were very interesting including an aerial one of Venice in 1500 where I could pick out the passageway which housed my hotel. And a globe from 1688 which showed the world without Argentina, California and Australia.

The weapons on display were memorable with plenty of halberds, swords, helms and polearms. And the Libraria Sansorvino was epic with gilt ceiling and parquet floor. But I felt there was something empty about the Musei Correr. I wanted to know how the people lived and what life was like hundreds of years ago and despite the treasures on offer it did not accomplish this. It is in no way as good as the Budapest Historical Musuem or Museum of London. You may see the Musei Correr as it is combined with the Palazzo Ducale, but I would seriously save it for a rainy day.

The Campanile (9.00am to 7.00pm, 10,000 lira)

You can't say that about the fabulous Campanile. I originally wasn't going to visit it as everytime I passed it the queues were horrendous and it seemed just that little too much of a tourist cliche. But after chatting with other hotel guests I felt I had to visit and I was so glad I did.

I chose early morning on my last day when Venice was laced with rain clouds. It is slightly expensive at 10,000 lira but worth every penny.

This is the tallest building in Venice and the original one dates back to 1514 when they used to dangle criminals in cages from the summit. In 1901 the whole thing collapsed into a perfect heap and it was rebuilt to include an elevator/lift. At any time day or night the queues for the lift/elevator are horrendous, but stick with it because after you crowd into the elevator and ride to the top the views are sensational. You will have to share them with dozens of others but once you get a clear view you can see as far as the Dolomites a hundred miles away.

As you look down to the north is the Piazza, grey in the rain but with red rooftops reaching to the horizon. The view stretched as far as Tronchetto where cruiseliners could be seen in the distance. To the south is the open sea with Salute and the Grande Canale looking ethereal in the mist (see photo). The Molo was impressive from this height with the columns, gondolas and an identical Campanile in Islola Maggiore staring back at us. To the east you can actually see into the courtyard of the Palazzo Ducale, and next door the Eastern domes of the Basilica looked like they were from the 'Arabian Nights'. But all around us were the rooftops of Venice hiding thousands of passageways and canals. We aren't in Italy anymore, we are on a different plan

Fatehpur Sakri: Ghost city of Moghul emporers

There are ruins in India that simply knock you sideways.

And the ghost city of Fatehpur Sikri is one of those. Nearly perfectly preserved after 450 years in the Rajasthan desert it's pavilions, walls and mosques are a magnificent sight and testimony to the great building power of the Moghul Emperor's.

It is also conveniently on the way between Agra and Jaipur, but I think Bharatpur makes a good base to explore Fatehpur Sikri. And the bus service on Bird Sanctuary road gives a good show of village India life on it's journey to the ruined city.

Fatehpur Sikri was the creation of one man - Akbar the Great. Shah Jahan is the most known of the Moghuls as the builder of the Taj Mahal, but Akbar was the more proficient builder and reigned far longer. Everyone forgets how powerful the Moghuls were in the 16th Century world. Their Empire stretched from Kandahar in Afghanistan all the way to the Bay of Bengal with the capital moved between Lahore, Agra and Delhi.

Although he had many wives and was all-powerful he could not produce an heir. He visited a holy man (sadhu) in the nearby village of Sikri and the holy man prophesied he would have an heir. In gratitude to the holy mans vision Akbar sought to create a new capital in the village of Sikri.

Using the hard reddish sandstone of the nearby hills, the city was built on a hill and the court in all its splendour moved with it. The dancing girls, elephant jousts and chess-games with real people only lasted for fourteen years as the city was notoriously hard to supply with water. It was abandoned and reclaimed by the desert until it was rediscovered in 1900.

The first sight of the city on the hill is magnificent. And whichever way you arrive, as soon as you approach the gates you will be marked by hawkers, beggars etc. Postcards, knives and souvenirs will be shoved in your face by children (whose fear is less) and you will be bombarded as you make your way to the gate past the drink and souvenir stands.

I took on a guide, as my experience at the Red Fort had proved, you miss things on your own - and took the one who got rid of the hawkers. He took me to a nearby stall and remove my boots (his families stall, what a surprise)and the my bare legs were wrapped in a lunghi (sheet) and I was led barefooted to the great looming gate of the Shah Darwanza.

This was the great towering gateway to Fatehpur Sikri and once through you are in a gigantic courtyard. Blazing in the sun this was about 500ft square and covered in a ribbon of cloth to protect the faithful's bare feet from the hot marble. Behind me Shahi Darwanza soared in red marble and there were porticoes containing worshippers that were sheltering from the intense heat.

The guide explained, Fatehpur Sikri was built in 1572 (I did my calculations, Elizabeth I's reign in English terms) and was where Akbar, fascinated by all the faiths of India, tried to find a fifth credo that incorporated them all. This was apparent in the towering red mihrab (mosque) This was cool and shady with soaring column's, a domed ceiling and Arabic inscriptions. The niche that contained the koran was still there and Akbar's fascination of all the religions of the world was pointed out to me - Muslim inscriptions, Hindu column's and a Christian dome.

Then it was on to to the tomb of the royal ladies and a phalanx of grey marble tombs spread across the floor. The biggest was the white marble tomb of Sheik Salim Christi, a muslim prophet. The tomb was exquisite and saried women moved around carved pillars, and lattice screens filtered the light to stunning effect. Inside was a tomb inlaid with mother-of-pearl where a holy man sat on cushions and visitors donated rupees.

Fatehpur Sikri is a fabulous sight and looks the same as it did when it was constructed in 1572. If you can brave the tourist bustle, this is a good stop on the route between Agra and Jaipur.

When we were driving away I took one more look at the soaring Shahi Darwhanza and then was stunned by what I saw on the road. There were a number of men with dancing sloth bears, they would dance for the tourists by rearing on their hind legs when their handler yanks their their nose-chain.

Local colour or extreme cruelty to animals? You decide.

Tuesday, April 1, 2014

Splash - New Yorks premier gay club

New York is, without doubt, the heart of the gay world.

It was in this progressive metropolis that the famous Stonewall riots happened in 1969 and it provided an example for gay communities all over the globe. One of the pleasures of visiting Gotham is to enjoy this famous community and its impressive nightlife. Although other cities have caught up with New York, there are few that party harder and get the most out of their sexuality. And the 'queen of the scene' has to be 'Splash' club in Chelsea which is one of the best gay clubs in the world.

Although the centre of the gay scene is probably now Chelsea, it is always worth visiting where it all started -- Greenwich Village. This for 25 years was the centre of the New York scene and some of the most famous pubs such as the'Stonewall Inn' still stand overlooking Sheridan Square. This square has been given a clean-up and now people sit on benches enjoying the sunshine with a dozen bars in the immediate vicinity (see photo). Christopher Street is not far away, and visiting it again it seemed to be much quieter and cleaner then I remember. Most of the action has moved to Chelsea.

And Chelsea on a Saturday night is a sight to behold especially between Eighth Avenue and 22nd and 19th Streets. Groups of men in tight T-shirts chatter in the street, and 'G' Bar on 19th Street (between Eighth and Seventh) was a superb bar, with no cover and very popular with 'guppies' (gay urban professionals). It is a large circular room with a bar in the middle. The barmen looked like bodybuilders and the music was good. Most people were with friends and moved on after a while and coming from the land of the frothy pint I will never . . . repeat never . . . get used to people drinking pink or green cocktails on a night out.

But the big draw in this area is 'Splash Club'. Situated on 17th Street (between Sixth and Fifth Avenues), it is more of an event then a nightclub. Every night of the week has New York’s best DJs, performers, dance shows, talent contests, tea dances and outrageous entertainment. Costing $15 entrance the club packs in hundreds of men in a mixture of age ranges. It helps to be buff and beautiful and the bartenders are employed for their looks just as much as their serving skills. Three bars dominate between two enormous dance floors. Huge screens on the walls showed moving pictures and the music was very good -- high energy with a few camp classics thrown in. Downstairs is another bar which is far more intimate and drinks are expensive at SBNY -- Heineken costs $5.50 a bottle.

New York is a fantastic city to be gay in and lives up to expectation. Go out and enjoy, this is where it started for me and the rest of the world . . .

Katchanburi - the horrors of the Burma-Siam railroad

There is a very dark side to Katchanaburi.

JEATH stands for Japan, England, Australia, Thailand and Holland - the five nations who lived and died on the 'Death Railway'. The town contains two cemeteries to the dead, which number over 100,000, and are just as much part of Katchanaburi as the bridge and houseboat guesthouses.

The best of these and the most moving is the JEATH museum. This is a little way out of town, to the south, along the Pak Praek Road. It can be easily walked or cycled and opposite is the gaudy Wat Chakkadan, a fully fledged Buddhist monastery. The abbot of Wat Chakkadan opened the museum twenty years ago to remind future generations of what happened in the war. Following the fall of Singapore in 1942, 60,000 POWs were marched north to the River Kwai (including my grandfather's brother). The Japanese wanted to build a railway for quick access for the troops to reach Burma. Their experts told them 3 years, but the Japanese were going to use slave labour to do it in 16 months. Over 50,000 POW's died of malnutrition, disease and abuse in the most terrible conditions.

The museum itself is on the banks of the river Kwai, consisting of a war memorial based around a bodhi tree and a replica of one of the huts. Inside were photos harking back to that era, and really brought the horrors home to you. There were pictures of Japanese soldiers standing beside the bridge, newspaper cuttings of those who were liberated, and a map showing the forty or more camps that were strung along the River Kwai.

More harrowing were the portraits: the British prisoner, Jack Walker, managed to make etchings on pieces of smuggled paper of what he had witnessed. These were elaborated when he was released and hung in the museum. They were not for the faint of heart. There were pictures of cadaverous men with skin afflictions and diseases being herded through the thick jungle, hollow eyed prisoners being beaten, and those in the cholera tent being laid out to die. But the worse were the tortures inflicted by the Japanese guards including crucifixions with barbed wire. This was very shocking stuff and I emerged from the museum very thoughtful and looking at Katchanaburi in a different light.

In town there is the Chukei war cemetery so if you want to pay your respects you may do so. But I believe that every visitor who comes to Katchanaburi must visit the JEATH museum, they will come away a different person.

Vienna: the Imperial Eagle of Austria and the leering demons of the damnation and divine retribution

Vienna wasn''t always wide boulevards and elegant parks. The core of ancient Vienna is the Innere Stadt or Aldstadt. This is only a mile wide at its widest point and today is squeezed between the Ringstrasse and the Danube Canal. But this is the Vienna most visitors come to see with narrow streets, baroque squares, elegant courtyards and row upon row of restaurants serving kaffee (coffee), weiswein (white wine) and sacher torte (chocolate cake).

There the Viennese don''t care if there is a world beyond the Ringstrasse and they can live surrounded by their luxury shops and baroque apartments. And after visiting the central, oldest part of Vienna you may agree with them - what is the point of the outside world?

The Innere Stadt is where the city began as Roman Vindobona and the city grew up within its medieval walls. The ancient city was surrounded by these walls, as major incursions by the Ottoman Turks boiling up from Constantinople hindered expansion. They did build outside the walls (ie the Karlskirche) but every thirty years or so they would find themselves besieged again by the Ottomans and lost everything. So the central core of the Habsburg Empire was always the Innere Stadt. The aristocracy built their palaces on the Herrengasse, the Jews lived around Fleischmarkt.

And Mozart? Mozart lived everywhere around the Innere Stadt - Wipplingerstrasse, Graben and Rahansteingasse - and about ten other addresses. He moved thirteen times to avoid both creditors and employers. Only the Figarohaus, east of the Dom, is the only place where he stayed that stll survives.

To begin a tour of the Aldstadt the best place to start is at the symbol of Vienna - the Stephansdom. The nearest tramstop is probably on Schwedenplatz but the U-bahn stop of Stephansplatz lets you alight right outside the Cathedral/Dom. As you climb out the subway the Dom will soar above you with its steffl (spire) reaching hundreds of feet into the air.

It''s sides are streaked with age and the nave roof is covered in tiles depicting twin-headed imperial eagle of Austria. As you get closer you can pick out the details and gothic lines, it is a very dark medieval cathedral and the main entrance is flanked by carved demons and gargoyles. Inside is gigantic with hundreds of pews interspersed by soaring gothic columns. The transept and altar were high baroque but what really surprised me was the pulpit. It was carved with a swirl of leering demons and monsters. Indeed the whole church evoked damnation and devine retribution. What a monstrous influence the Stephensdom must have had in narrow superstitious medieval Vienna.

Turning left at the top of Graben is a fantastic vista. This elegant street has the Hofburg at its far end and the blue baroque dome of the Michaeltor looms above everything. The strasse is called Kohlmarkt and is the most exclusive in Vienna, those with KK embossed on their shops means they have the imperial warrant and you can stick your own nose in the air to admire the jewellers, courtierers, antique shops and the royal confectioners, Demel.

Follow it north and you will hit Freyung. On the way you will be amazed at the restaurants and cafes lining the Innere Stadt - Vienna is such a wealthy city. Approaching Freyung is a shopping arcade, not just any shopping arcade but one which was once the palace of the Ferstel family. The aristocratic palace now houses boutiques and jewellers and even to window shop feels expensive. On Freyung is the baroque Schottenkirche, named after Scottish monks who settled in Vienna and opposite is a small garden with trellised vines.

The rest of the Innere Stadt down to the Danube (Donau) canal is lined with narrow lanes and baroque squares. Between the Stephansdom and the Canal is the Fleischmarkt. Once the Jewish centre of Vienna it now is a lovely street where vinecovered churches overlook band-serenaded cafes. The steet Greichengrasse is worth a look.

Just north of this is the famous ''Bermuda Triangle'' the centre for Viennese nightlife. There are about ten bars in close proximity here, and while it is not Times or Leicester Square, you can have a good time here. In fact my only quibble about Vienna is its quietness at night. But when you have such a beautiful city with its cafes, restaurants and concert halls - lets be honest - what have you got to complain about?..