Alice Springs - We of the Never Never

One of the most memorable things about my trip to Australia was being woken up by dingoes.

They howled with the dawn light! After a freezing cold night in the outback the howling sounded terrible. It was the way a wolf howls. You can imagine them out there in the bush, stretching with the new day and announcing their presence to the world. Our guide says they are harmless and just hang around the campsite. But it is a most unnerving sound when you are struggling to wake up after a hard night under the stars.

I wouldn't have missed my tour out of Alice Springs to Uluru, Kings Canyon, and The Olgas for the world. I truly got a sense of the vast scale and harshness of the Northern Territory. The Red Centre of the continent is what can only be described as historically rich and scenically spectacular, and harbours the kind of landscapes that you came to especially to Australia to see. It also is one of the harshest, most forbidding places on the planet. Summer temperatures regularly reach 45 degrees C and don't drop down to 30 degrees C at night. This is a place where water is scarce, the plant and animal life hardy, and the people as tough and unbending as the landscape around them. There is a sense of real wilderness out here, real hardship. Water is precious and as valuable as the opals that come from the red ground. Where mistakes in this wilderness can lead to death and the sight of another human being is as rare and as welcome as you can get.

Desert practicalities 

Alice Springs is in the centre of the driest continent on earth.

Before setting off, we got a lecture on how to look after oneself in the desert. The first thing is water. It was drummed into us that we must drink 2 litres of water an hour. Dehydration is a real problem, especially in the 35 degree C baking heat. There was an incident the week before with a Japanese tourist not taking any water up with her when climbing Ayers Rock. She had to be brought down by helicopter. We were also told to wear strong sunblock and a hat. The sun is a real menace, and it goes some way to keeping the flies off. Also strong boots - there are snakes out there amongst the spinifex

Travel between Alice Springs and Ayers Rock

Let's get one thing straight: Ayers Rock/Uluru is over 400 miles from Alice Springs.

It's a long way. The prospect of flying in, seeing "the rock", and flying out again within a short space of time is an unrealistic one. It can be done. Emu Tours famously do a tour that gets you to "the Rock" and back to Alice in a day. This, of course, means 8 hours on the road and only an hour and a half at the monolith. Alternatively, you can fly direct from any major Australian city into Ayers Rock airport (which also has direct flights from Tokyo and Osaka). You can combine this with a stay at the Yulara resort (see below) for luxury in sight of "the rock" itself. But this is generally for tourists who are quite happy to pay for high prices.

The majority of tourists either use Alice as a base or join one of the 2- to 5-day tours, which stretch out into the outback taking in Kata Tijuca and Kings Canyon. It is possible to do this with a degree of luxury, but you must remember you are in the heart of the hardest, driest continent on earth. Relief in air-conditioning and protection from the flies isn't always an option. And what better way of getting close to the Australian outback than taking a camping trip. They are usually taken by knowledgeable guides who know all the history, botany, and legends of the aboriginal lands surrounding sacred Uluru, and the experience of sleeping in the desert under the stars is one which will stay with you for a long time.

Camping in the Outback

I picked WayOutBack tours (www.wayoutback.com.au). This had the reputation for small parties of tourists and the advantage of using 4-wheel-drive vehicles to get to places where other tourists can't. My tour was for 2 nights/3 days and cost A$388 (£200). We travelled hundreds of kilometres each day and slept at campsites. There were no frills and we were expected to pitch in, from doing the washing up to rustling spare wood from the roadside for the campfire each night. Our guide, Carolyn, was excellent, a fountain of knowledge about the local area. She would brook no nonsense - each one of us had a duty to perform, whether it was get the fire started, unpack the "swag bags," or put the "billycan" on the fire. Our "swag bags" were arranged around the fire, and we fitted sleeping bags inside these. Most useful, as the temperature plummeted to 0 degrees C at night.

The Yulara Resort

Of course, it doesn't have to be done as penny-pinching as a budget camping tour. Tour companies offer luxury accommodation at TheYulara resort, which stands in the shadow of the famous Ayers Rock. Uluru will hove into view as you drive along the Lassetter Highway, and this resort has won awards for its consideration for the environment. Not one of the ochre-coloured buildings is above gum tree height, and most of the hotels are disguised and spread over 30 acres. The cheapest beds are in the hostel for $50, and it rises to $1350 a night for Longitude 131,whose super-luxury tents are hidden amongst the dunes.

Buses do run from Alice Springs direct to the resort. And all accommodation should really be booked in advance via Ayers Rock Resort, which is based in Sydney (reservations@voyages.com.au). The central part of the resort is Shopping Square, a sort of terracotta area with sail awnings to keep off the sun. It's a good place for practicalities, such as digital camera batteries, camping utilities and a supermarket. The restaurants, however, are uniformly expensive. Although I can recommend Geckos, which had wood-fired pizzas for about $15.

Kings Creek Station Campground

I feel I have to mention this because to me this exemplified the Dead Red Heart of Australia. Kings Creek Station was our last camping stop before heading back to "Alice." It was a working station about 30 miles from Kings Canyon (Watarrka NP) and the nearest cheap accommodation. I have to say that, with the exception of the Pantanal in Brazil, this is the remotest place I have ever stayed in. First of all, it is a working camel station. There are so many wild camels in the area that they round them up using helicopters and shunt them off to the city to be sold overseas. Though some I suspect don't get that far, camel burgers are available at the restaurant.

You can experience the work firsthand with helicopter flights over the outback and quad-biking (www.kingscreekstation.com.au).You can hire their cabins for about $55 a night, which includes breakfast. We were using their campsite to "swag" down for the night, which was situated in a sandy clearing with views of the George Gill range. There was a table, barbecue, washbasin, and campfire. A little way off was an open-air shower that needed to be kept going with a wood burner. It was open to the elements - all I can say is, I hope there weren't any camels watching.

Vienna - the Risenrad and fairground at Praterstern

Along with Berlin and London, Vienna was one of the epicentres of the espionage world. It's proximity to Hungary and the Iron Curtain provided a fertile breeding ground for spies, defectors and black marketeers. This was the atmosphere that Graham Green captured perfectly in his classic book "The Third Man". 

The Viennse tourism industry has embraced the movie (recently voted the best British film of all time)and you can now visit the locations and even visit the stinky sewers of Vienna once a week. But, the most famous of the locations is situated in the Prater Park - the giant Riesenrad/Ferris Wheel - which has become a symbol of Vienna. The Volksprater itself is worth a trip out of central Vienna in itself as it provides a welcome break from all that history and gives you a chance to see the Viennese let their hair down and enjoy themselves.

Spy versus spy has always gone on in Vienna. Franz Josef kept a secret police as well as a vast set of informers. But it was only in the Second World war that it really took off as a spy capital. When the Soviets finally took Vienna in 1945 they occupied the city for five years. Under the terms of the German surrender the city was to be divided between the four occupying powers - French, American, Soviet and British - just like Berlin. T

he Aldstadt was to be patrolled between all four and there was much intrigue and suspicion as each security force watched the other. And provided the perfect setting for Graham Greene to set his novel amongst the shadows and rubble of occupied Vienna. Carol Reed's film (with its memorable zither music)is now just as much part of Vienna as the Hofburg or Lippizzaner horses and you can still see the locations. Orson Welles makes his first entrance as Harry Lime from a doorway in Herrengasse, his fake funeral was shot in the Ziefriedhof cemetery and the famous "cuckoo clock speech" (never has Switzerland been more maligned) took place in a carriage in the Ferris wheel at the Prater Park with Joseph Cotten.

To reach the Prater from central Vienna take a tram or U-bahn to Praterstern. The tram can be caught from Schwedenplatz and the advantage of this is that you can clank through the district of Leopoldstadt on its way. The old jewish district is charming with its apartment blocks and old shops. But the area at Praterstern with its tram terminus and U-bahn station is more human then the Aldstadt. You can see the ebb and flow of human life here and is much more gritty with tabaks, bierkellers and kebab shops.

The Risenrad will be seen looming over the surrounding buildings and is the first attraction you will come to when you enter the Volksprater (amusement park). The wheel itself is colossal (65ft high) and costs 80 Austrian schillings (£4/$6.50). There is always a queue and once you have boarded the carriages it takes twenty minutes to clank it's way around. The carriages themselves are 19th century and give expansive views of Vienna all the way to the Wienerwald. 

From this height you can see that the Prater is on an island between the Donau (Danube) and its canal that touches the Aldstadt. From its maximum height you can see all the way to Schonbrunn and its mustard yellow palace. Most tourists are here to recreate the Carol Reed movie. But I remember the Riesenrad from another movie - the James Bond film "The Living Daylights". Now where is that dinner jacket when I need it...

The Volksprater is at its best at night. There the lights, atmosphere and music come together to make a fun place for the Viennese. During the 19th Century it was very fashionable, the royalty and commoner frequenting its attractions. Now the most impressive thing is its size - it is like a miniature city of amusements with tree lined avenues, water-fountains and uncountable bierkellers. 

Back in its heyday crowds used to throng the place and there was an attraction called Lilliputstadt - an entire village populated by midgets. You can get a taste of this mode of thought by the Lilliputbahn, a miniature steam railway which travels around the park. But the Prater's charm is in its traditional attractions such as wurlitzers, dodgem-cars, helter-skelters, rollercoasters,spinning rides, ghost-trains, shooting galleries and a very sad merry-go-round that uses carriages pulled by real miniature horses.

Time slips away in the Volksprater and you will find yourself sitting in a bierkeller, munching on a bratwurst, clutching a stein of bier and watching the world go by. It is without doubt one of the most fun sights in Vienna

Venice - how to eat like a Venetian

At the Trattoria San Remo I was shown how to properly eat Italian sphegetti.

The proprietress showed me how to fluff it up so that the meat, tomato sauce and pasta are mixed together. Then you twist it around your fork ready for eating and wash it down with a good house wine. 

This little trattoria was one of the gems of Venice. And we wondered each night how we managed to find it as it was tucked away under the hundreds of bridges on one of the hundreds of canals north of the Bacino di Orseolo. For 33,000 lira we would have spaghetti Bolognese, fresh salad, bread and garlic oil. Or the seafood - what is the point in coming to Venice and not trying the seafood? Lobster and squid were very expensive but the "frito misto" - seafood fry-up was a bargain at 40,000 lira. It was so good I can taste it even now.

Part of the Venice experience is dining on a canalside restaurant. This experience does not come cheap as the restaurants pray on the tourist trade and have high prices. A general rule of thumb is that the more spectacular the location the higher the prices. If you choose a restaurant overlooking the Rialto bridge or the Grande Canale then it will be more expensive then a little trattoria tucked away in eastern Castello. After a while you will wonder how can the locals afford to eat here?

Venice is a city for the rich, there's no denying that, but people do live here and certainly don't go to the restaurants every night. They have the 'Bacari's' to cater for them. These are bars/tabacci's/cafes where they can pick up a pachito or pizza at a reasonable price. If you are a canny tourist you can spot the good Bacari and join the locals for their mid-day Bellini for half the price of the restaurants.

For there is a rule in Venice which says picnic's are forbidden (I broke this unintentionally) therefore tourists are forced to frequent the thousands of overpriced restaurants which line the Mercerie or Rialto Bridge. There is no real nightlife in Venice, certainly not comparable to Bologna or Milan, so in the evenings the tourists wander around Piazza San Marco, have something to eat then go to bed. There is only one disco in the city - 'Casanova' on the Lista di Spagna (which we didn't try) so most of the locals can in the car and go to Mestre or Lido di Jesolo. Venice is left to the tourists at night - imagine it, thousands and thousands of tourists gazing into each others eyes across restaurant tables. It's enough to make you want to jump in the canal

Tuscany - Pisa - The most famous tower in the world

Florentine proverb: "Meglio un morto a casa che un Pisano al'uschio!" ("Better a death in the family than a Pisan at the door!")

Pisan reply: "E che Dio to contenda!" ("And may god grant your wish!")

At midnight on a weekday, when most of Europe is tucked up in bed, Pisa comes alive down by the river.The students from the famous university sit on the river walls - hundreds of them - chatting, drinking, and flirting till the early hours. It is of course the famous Italian passoggiata, and in this town of ancient academia, its participants are young people who study at one of the most important universities in the world. But then students can stay up to all hours - they can miss lectures in the morning. It's the rest of Pisa that needs its sleep.

And if you come to Tuscany, you must visit Pisa. Apart from its world-famous tower, it is a beautiful city with barely a modern building amongst its twisting medieval streets. Butter-coloured stone crowns the facades of churches, cobbles cover elegant piazzas, arcades hide good shopping, and the town buzzes with the sound of tourists and students. It feels strange to look around at day-trip Pisa and to realise it was once a major power. Pisa was also the final destination for the western end of the Silk Road from China. It was a little battler of a city. It held the strategic islands of Corsica, Sardinia, and Mallorca, and, in turn, came to dominate the Mediterranean. But there were two other predatory cities that were growing into aggressive powers, Venice and Genoa, and they became, all three, bitter rivals. In 1284 Pisa was defeated in battle by the Genoese. The town remained wealthy, but it plummeted in power and had to submit to a succession of overlords like Genoa, Milan, and Florence. Pisa still had its moments. In the 16th century, for 15 years, this little city held off the combined might of Florence and France. And this is not counting all of its artistic achievements.

And in its layout, it does resemble Florence but without the crowds. It contains the major airport for Tuscany, Galileo, which has frequent buses into town that stop outside the stazione. In fact, the stazione is the true hub of Pisa. There are direct trains to the airport from the station every half an hour, but the big draw is Florence only 1 hour away. The return fare for Florence from Pisa is €8. Yes, I’ll say that again, 8€! It’s just £6.00 or $8.00, and trains leave every half an hour. Keep an eye on the timetables that are pasted onto the walls of the stazione, as there is quite a difference between the fast trains and those that stop at each station. And another tip is to make sure you activate your ticket in one of the machines dotted around the station. Failure to do this results in a nasty fine.

 Outside the stazione is the taxi rank and bus port. From here buses can be taken to Viarreggio, Lucca, and the Torre del Largo. But most tourists, clutching their little guidebooks, cross the road and head north to find The Field of Miracles. The street that stretches from the stazione to the south bank of the Arno is the Corso Italiano, a pedestrianised narrow thoroughfare that houses the best boutiques and cafés in Pisa. In fact, all human life traverses this street: students on their way to lectures, preoccupied academics on bicycles, expensively dressed women, and trendy teenagers wearing the latest label. Italians spend more of their salaries on clothes then any other European country, and it can be seen as they move around town. As we traversed, our Italian friends would periodically stop, ostensibly to look at clothes in the window, but we caught them looking at themselves.

Finally, the Corso Italiano opens out into a piazza bordering the river Arno. Here Pisa becomes epic with the wide green river stretching in either direction. The stone banks look the same as they did in medieval times, with three bridges crossing the wide river. On either bank of the Arno are some truly beautiful buildings, most of them coloured tangerine or the light brown so specific to Tuscany, their terracotta roofs sloping down, shielding shuttered windows and balconies. Romanesque churches loomed above the rooftops, and lambrettas buzzed across the Ponte di Mezzo spanning the Arno. It is when you cross this bridge that Pisa seems to work its magic. Directly across is the Piazza Garibaldi. An arcaded building in streaked green marble overlooks the cobbled piazza that contains a statue of Garibaldi himself. I thoroughly recommend thegelataria in the northwest corner - their pistachio ice cream is delicious.

From there things get confusing. The Field of Miracles is not in a straight line from the stazione; it is situated away to the northwest, as the streets of Pisa do not lead there directly. From the Piazza Garibaldi the Borgo Stretto heads northwards; after travelling along this for 10 minutes you must take a left along Via Ulisse Dini into the beautiful Piazza Cavaolari. From there take the narrow street Via dei Mille further northwest and hopefully connect up with Via Santa Maria and the Leaning Tower. You will be in the same predicament as hundreds of equally confused tourists, so my advice is to follow the herd - they may know where they are going.

 The shops are a major attraction - many of them situated in lovely arcades resembling that other stunning Italian University town, Bologna. And there are some truly beautiful set-pieces, i.e. Piazza de Cavaolari, which is one of the administrative centers of the university and is stunning (see photo). The university building is called Scuola Normale Superiore and has a set of stone steps leading up to a marble facade with shuttered windows. And between these windows is incredible ornate tracery, pictures of angels, and emblems with little marble busts perched in niches. The building was Napoleon Bonaparte’s idea. You need to pass special exams to get in and keep a high rating during the course. Another statue stands in the centre of this Piazza, this time with a drinking fountain. There are so many little exquisite piazzas in Pisa (although I must admit there is a lot of graffiti, some of it very political). One of my favorites was Piazza Dante Aligheri down by the river. The noble university building overlooked a tiny green square surrounded by palm trees.

I have a friend, Dr. Nicola Pavese, who works in London but keeps his apartment going in Pisa. And for 4 days in June, we stayed in his apartment outside the city walls on the Via Mossa (or Via Tosser as another friend called it - sorry, English joke), and from there we spread out to explore Tuscany. We were lucky enough to be shown about by his friends, and on the first night, slightly tired from the budget flight, we were taken out in a convertible sports car and spun along the cobbled streets. There we got our first snapshots of Pisa: the light reflected in the dark river, the studentpasseigetta in Piazza Garibaldi, and the famous leaning tower glowing in the darkness.

Once in a while there is a poll in the European Union: "If you were not your own nationality, which other nationality would you be?" Italian always wins; isn’t that funny?

Toledo - the cathedral, heart and soul of Spain

In a country that boasts some breathtaking cathedrals the seat of the primate of all Spain has to be something special - and it is!

Toledo Catedral ranks with Salamanca, Sevilla and the incomparable Santiago de Compostella as one of the greatest churches in Spain. This was where the great war-engine of Spanish christendom issued its edicts and spread its priests around the globe when the empire was at its height. The religious intrigues were so intense in this rocky city that Phillip II moved the capital away from here to start it anew at Madrid. If you want to get a feel for the heart and soul of Spain, then come here.

To coin a phrase, the catedral is a devil to find. Like all great medieval churches it is hidden by the surrounding buildings and only the brown-spire is visible from a distance. This always adds, in my mind, to the medieval atmosphere when you suddenly blunder out into the facade the surprise is more stark because it was so unexpected.

 Entrance is 500 pesetas and this also gives you access to the sacristy, capellas and treasury. I usually prevaricate about paying admission to a church but on this occasion I was justified and you must remember this is a working church just like San Pietro in Rome or Canterbury in England it is not just a tourist attraction. The number of priests and nuns going about their business will convince you of that.

Whatever you think about the exterior - the interior is stunning - and I swear it is the highest ceiling I have ever seen in a cathedral, over 150ft tall. The ceiling carvings were incredible with delicate gothic lines which meets with carved brown baroque ornamentation underneath.Most of the catedral was in darkness and this made colourful stain-glassed windows all the more extraordinary. The powerful Castilean sun cast strong colours on the dark floor. While I was there, the coro (choir) was open, and I stood in the two levels of intricately carved stalls. But the pride of the Catedral was the famous Capilla Mayor, which was a gargantuan altarpiece stretching from floor to ceiling covered in shiny gilt. The story goes that the priests were still covering it in black paint when Napoleonic troops burst in in 1808.

The nearby sacrista showed off the churches impressive accumulation of wealth. This was the church that had the silver and gold aquisitions from Peru and Mexico to play with and could afford to indulge its tastes. There were several portraits by Velasquez and El Greco (The Greek himself lived in Toledo, down by the eastern ramparts). And each Catholic primate had his own portrait on the wall in a long gallery of dour looking churchman.

With priests evident in the shadows, and with a good guidebook, it is still evident to get a taste of the religious Toledo of yore. Come here for high mass when they are chanting and lighting candles and you will be transported back to the time of Phillip II. And you will agree that this splendid, colossal church is the heart and soul of Spain.

Sydney - the Aquarium and the giant crocodile

IF THE FALL DOESN'T KILL YOU, HE WILL

That sign is above the "Saltwater Crocodile" enclosure and shows a lovely Aussie sense of humour.

The fall itself is 20ft straight down into the jaws of a true monster. Australia has the biggest crocodiles in the world and the biggest of these live in the river strips/coastal territories of Queensland and the Northern Territory. The Aquarium had one such brute - a lethargic reptile over six foot long. He looked fearsome enough from ground level, but you could climb a set of steps and see him and his pool from above. Hence the warning to be careful. He looked quiet enough but no doubt he'd be as quick as a flash if someone fell in. And I noticed the walls were too high to climb out as well.

When you wander around the harbour you can treat yourself to at least one museum/attraction and I would pick this one above all. They do say if your trip doesn't include the Barrier Reef then this is a good alternative. Certainly a lot of expense has been ploughed into it and thought has been spent on how to incorporate it into the harbour. In fact, the water is so clean in the harbour that it is used naturally for some of the enclosures. Admittance is a steep $25 per person and you enter through an artificial sharks mouth.

First off is the wildlife of Australia's river system and I immediately failed to spot a platypus. I did, however, get to see what yabbies looked like (small blue crayfish) and the mud skippers were amusing with just their eyes peering out of the yuck. Next was where wharves had been converted into the aquarium and the sea lion pool was washed with fresh seawater constantly. You could walk around the pool or travel in a perspex tunnel and watch the sea mammals twist and spin underwater. 

But best of all was the tropical section. 

The corridors were pitch black making the lighting in the tanks more pronounced. One tank took my breathe away - it was stuffed to the brim with jellyfish. Red lighting lit them from underneath making their pulsating more ethereal and magical.. But the climax was The Great Barrier Reef Tank which was simply colossal. It was full of artificial reef life as well of shoals of hundreds of brightly coloured fish. The tank actually extended underneath the glass floor, and fish moved beneath your feet. It was rather unnerving to have a giant grouper glide above you, while a sawfish swims beneath you. A shoal of fish had taken the last 30 feet of tank as their own and were very close to the glass. The Aquarium provided classical music as you watched this tank. It was so enchanting it was like watching something out of "Fantasia"..

Siena - Viarregio - Belle Epoque at the beach

It seemed like the whole of Italy was at the beach today.

They bussed into Viareggio from miles around – disembarking, clutching their beach gear and wearing their designer sunglasses. But it was beautifully hot here in Tuscany and a day at the beach was very welcome. Viareggio felt the epitome of all that is good about a European summer. The stress of living really fell away today.

I have a very soft spot for Italy. I am lucky to have Italian friends and live in a country where budget airlines allow me to visit them for a reasonable cost. Due to the credit crunch a long haul holiday was out of the question in 2009 but it did allow me a week in Tuscany and to catch up with people. I borrowed the flat in Pisa of a friend in London and in the evenings had dinner with Italian friends. On previous trips to Tuscany I have enjoyed the delights nightclubs at the beach in the Torre del Largo. I was trying to reach that stretch of beach today.

It didn’t quite go to plan. When you look on the map of Viareggio it blends with the beach/pineta to the east to become the Torre del Largo. So I was to try and catch a train to Viareggio and walk from there. It is only a twenty minute train ride from Pisa to Viareggio and this being a summer Sunday morning the train was absolutely packed. African vendors target the beach and filled my carriage. A conductor boarded the train and asked them for their tickets. She was on to a losing streak as they were trying to get off. When I was disembarking I did hear one say to her "Why don’t you ask those people for their tickets? Why is it always us?" I felt a faint stab of guilt at that.

The streets south of the Stazione lead to the beach. I immediately liked Viareggio – this smart resort has a touch of art deco about it. The boulevard I traversed was dotted with gelatarias, pizzerias and small hotels. The big blue horizon at the end promised the sea so I gamely carried on until Via Reina Marguerite. The promenade was gorgeous – beautiful belle époque buildings set off by palm trees each building the colour of cream or light blue. There was an elegance to the place that I didn’t expect.

The beach was blocked from the road by numerous stablimimenti balneari . These private clubs own the stretch of the beach they adjoin and charge for the use of their facilities. The plus side to these establishments is that you have toilets, showers, changing rooms and even swimming pools at your disposal. You can still reach the beach through the gaps in the balneari. But often the gaps are plugged with fashion boutiques, pavement restaurants and boutique hotels.

But the beach, while not free, is very impressive. It stretches for a mile in every direction. To the south it is broken by a breakwater leading to a yachting marina. Every inch is covered in people – shouting, laughing, and kicking footballs around. The sea is warm and you don’t have to move from your sunlounger (at 10 Euros a day why should you?) as the African vendors will provide everything you need. 

Towards the evening I took a look at the breakwater and the marina. A long stone jetty extends out to see where you can view the yachts of the rich and famous. I gave up trying to get to the Torre del Largo as the distances were too big and instead just lapped up the sun in this extraordinarily classy Italian resort.
I was speaking to an Italian friend that evening about Viareggio and he didn’t have a good word to say about it. He said it was full of geriatrics. I must admit that many on that beach would never see seventy again.

This reminded me of that joke about the English seaside resort who share the same demographic as Viarregio "Harwich for the continent....Frinton for the incontinent?"