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Well, probably. 1. Stavanger is the 'cradle of the Vikings'. Head for the Archaeological Museum where a guide (dressed as a Viking) will tell you tales and demonstrate Viking tools 2. Norway has a rich brewing tradition. Until around 200 years ago, no farm was complete without a brewhouse. Cheers! all photos copyright Gilly Pickup
3. Lutefisk is a traditional Norwegian seafood dish, considered a delicacy. The recipe involves soaking a fish in lye then rinsing it in water. Is it good? Well let's say it's an acquired taste 4. Stavanger has some fabulous beaches. Yes, really. White sands and sheltered coves mean sun worshippers flock there despite the water's chilly temperature 5. The Sword in the Rock monument is made up of three swords forced into solid rock. They commemorate the place where Viking King Harald Haarfagre defeated the last of the regional princes way back in AD872 and founded the kingdom that is now Norway 6. This is crafty. A Norwegian invented the cheese slicer in 1927. It was a hot day when carpenter Thor Bjerklund opened his Gouda cheese slices and was horrified to find that they had melted and were all stuck together. He tried separating them, eventually using a plane that he used to slice wood. A few modifications later and voila! the cheese slicer had been invented. 7. Stavanger is the petroleum capital of Norway and one of the world's biggest oil exporters. This doesn't mean it's cheap to fill up here though, locals have to put up with some of the highest petrol prices in the world. Doesn't seem fair, does it? Tips for Visitors
Bulgarians shake their heads from left to right to mean ‘yes’ and ‘nod’ to mean no. Well, sometimes. Locals in the cities and holiday resorts often do it our way, so unfortunately you haven’t a clue whether they mean ‘yes’ or ‘no’. These days it's generally the older generation that continues this tradition, which dates back to the time of the Ottomans. Dislike cigarette smoke? You could find this a problem in some restaurants and bars. There's no getting away from it - Bulgarians like their ciggies. The law says that restaurants, bars and cafes must provide non -smoking areas and they do, but in practice, this often means a few tables surrounded by tables for smokers. Good buys are linen, crafts, rose oil perfume, wine and plum brandy. If like me, you love yogurt, Bulgaria's is said to be one of the best in the world. It has a unique taste because the bacteria used to make it, Lactobacillus bulgaricus, is only found naturally in Bulgarian air. Talking of food, Bulgarian bakeries sell a fabulous range of pastries and breads and which cost next to nothing. Some beaches get very busy with tourists, such as Sunny Beach, famous, or rather infamous, for drinking and partying! When to visit? As is the case in many countries, June to September is the peak summer season in Bulgaria. This is when airfares and accommodation are most expensive.. Winter is an ideal time for budget travel and destinations are less-crowded then too. If you like skiing then it's a fabulous and much cheaper alternative to France and Switzerland's expensive ski resorts. More on affordable, fun, friendly Bulgaria here and here too  So there I was, perched precariously on an uncomfortable narrow seat in the tractor-hauled cart as it bumped its way up the hill heading for the main street ‘The Avenue.’ A few minutes earlier I had alighted from a rocky, one hour crossing on the boat from Guernsey. The rain had stopped, which renewed my enthusiasm for exploring tiny Sark, an island which is part of the Bailiwick of Guernsey. It is unique in that it is a fiefdom granted to the Seigneurie of St Ouen in Jersey back in 1565, with the proviso that he kept the island free from pirates. click on any image to enlarge words/images (c) Gilly Pickup The ride in the tractor-hauled buggy, nicknamed the ‘toastrack’ due to its design, is one of three ways visitors can get to the village after alighting from the boat – the other two involve walking up a steep hill or hiring a horse and cart (£10 pp per hour when I was there). Even the ambulance and fire engine operate on the towed-by-tractor basis. There are no roads, just dusty, stony tracks and rural pathways, so for walkers, good footwear is essential. Those who prefer to cycle can hire one from a shop on The Avenue. Although most people visiting the island are day trippers like me, there is accommodation available for those seeking a chill out break including a couple of hotels, guest houses, self-catering properties and a few campsites.  Alighting thankfully from the buggy, I walked passed the prison, possibly the world’s smallest with only two cells – a local told me that it is still used for rare, overnight stays. I was heading for historic manor house, ‘La Seigneurie’ built around 1675. Though the house, permanent residence of the present Seigneur – the head of Sark, is not open to the public, the grounds are open daily and it is one of Sark's most popular attractions. There is a café in the gardens where I had coffee and cake then suitably refreshed, set off again past deep winding valleys bursting with wild flowers, white washed cottages and berry-laden hedgerows to the Hog's Back headland, a favourite spot with picnickers. Dixcart Wood is worth a visit too, in spring it is carpeted in bluebells and it remains a blaze of year round colour thanks to the profusion of celandines, primroses, three-cornered garlic, red campion and ferns which grow here. Those seeking more adrenaline fuelled pastimes can try coasteering, geocaching or kayaking while at low tide, there are coastal caves to explore. Sark has no street lights so if locals go out at night they have to carry a torch to see where they are going. Since there is no light pollution, the night sky can be viewed in all its glory and Sark was designated the world’s dark sky first island in 2011. No special equipment is needed to enjoy the starry display but there is a powerful telescope in a small observatory – well, a shed really - primarily designed to keep star-gazers warm at night. If you go, you’ll be bound to see the creamy rich Milky Way, a display of shooting stars is almost guaranteed and you will be mesmerised by the twinkling lights of Guernsey far across the sea. Read about Guernsey's wildlife here The rest of my brief visit to the Channel Islands was spent in Guernsey, famed for its flowers and fabulous seafood and one of the few places in the world where Santa Claus arrives by lifeboat, rendering Rudolf redundant. It’s a small island, only 25sq miles, but has a variety of landscapes from rocky inlets to high-sided woodland and curving pastures. It’s easy to get whisked back in time as almost everywhere you look here there is evidence of a fascinating past, from medieval castles, forts and watchtowers to landmarks providing memories of the years when Hitler’s forces invaded the islands, particularly La Valette German Underground Museum and the Occupation Museum with its hoard of war relics. No modern fast food outlets are allowed on Guernsey either, it has stuck to its guns. No MacDonalds, Pizza Hut or Starbucks. Well maybe that’s no bad thing. Victor Hugo was so enamoured with the island that he was inspired to write most of Les Miserables there during his 15 year stay. He described his new homeland as ‘the rock of hospitality, this corner of old Norman land where the noble people of the sea reside.’ I wanted to visit his house but it was closed so had to make do with standing outside and imagining what it might look like from the inside. I did get inside Castle Cornet though, last remaining royalist stronghold during the last throes of the English Civil War. Unfortunately for the governor’s wife, an explosion in 1672 in the gunpowder store blew off the top of the tower and she was killed. Today, it contains several museums, including one devoted to all things seafaring while its gardens are great for wafting round on a pleasant day. Foodies should know that everywhere you go in Guernsey you’ll enjoy fantastic fare. Personally I like 'gache’, the local finger-licking fruit loaf traditionally eaten smothered with rich golden Guernsey butter. Fish fans must savour a bumper bowl of seriously fabulous ‘moules’, probably the freshest you’re likely to find. Add to that friendly locals, interesting scenery and inexpensive car rental and you’ll wonder, as I did, why it took you so long to visit. images (c) Gilly Pickup Sark Visitor Centre Guernsey Tourism Condor Ferries operates year round services from Poole to Guernsey Isle of Sark Shipping Company operate regular sailings from Guernsey to Sark  The tiny Grand Duchy of Luxembourg is landlocked by Belgium, France and Germany. This constitutional monarchy with Grand-Duc Henri at the helm, has as its capital Luxembourg City. Built on a plateau dotted with ravines at the confluence of two rivers, this banking centre is one of Europe's most prosperous. Generations of listeners may also remember it as the home of Radio Luxembourg which broadcast around Europe for 59 years until 1992. The city is an eclectic blend of old and new where history and high fashion rub shoulders with chic restaurants, culture and – it has to be said - a somewhat slow-paced nightlife. If you’re in town on a Wednesday or Saturday visit the market in Place Guillaume for a dose of local colour. Stalls are piled high with rich textured local wines, stacks of hearty cheeses, homemade preserves and fresh flowers.  photos (c) Mike & Gilly Pickup Click on any image to enlarge Picturesque landscapes greet you wherever you go in this land of meandering rivers, dense forests, green valleys and steep ridges, more often than not topped by a ruined castle. The toy sized village of Vianden, a stone’s throw from the German border, has one such theatrically dramatic medieval castle, particularly beautiful when floodlit at night. It's a calf-wrenching climb to reach it, up a steeply pitched, cobblestoned road, but it's worth it for the king-of-the-world views that await you. From Vianden, take an afternoon’s gentle sightseeing cruise on the Moselle river to Trier and enjoy Kaffee und Kuchen (coffee and cakes) en route. Trier, said to be Germany’s oldest city, is famed for its Roman ruins and bustling market. The Moselle flows through Luxembourg's main wine-producing region and many larger wineries including Domaines Vinsmoselle, offer tours of their cellars with tastings of white and sparkling wines. Nowhere is far from anywhere here. Müllerthal, ‘valley of millers’, so-called because of its abundance of watermills, is known as 'Little Switzerland'. Imposing rock formations date from the ice age, clear silver streams rumble and cascade between boulders while pine, birches and hornbeams reach up towards the skies. The road is lined with bizarrely shaped rocks with strange sounding names like Hölle (Hell) and l'Ile du diable (Devil's Island). Little Switzerland is also popular with hikers and cyclists. Tips for Travellers
 For those unfamiliar with press trips, I’ll just say here that they are hard work, not at all like being on a free holiday.
(Those who say to me, ‘did you have a good holiday?’ every time I return from a media trip, please take note,) Asterisks (*) have been used instead of names to save host/ country embarrassment Over the years, I have been on many, many press trips. Most are fabulous, others okay, but until now, none have fallen into the ‘awful’ category. Media trips are usually PR-organised outings intended to drive coverage – hopefully, but not always, positive - to keep the PR’s client happy. In this case though, any PR reading this needn’t fret because this disastrous affair was organised by a government ministry – (referred to hereon in as ‘Country X’) . The global group trip was set up to promote ‘Modern 'Country X' culture in the global world.’ Anyway, let me start at the beginning (as Julie Andrews famously sang, ‘it’s a very good place to start’.) I try my best not to write negatively, I really do. Normally there is no need to because press trips are enjoyable events full of creative and even fun activities that appeal to the invited journalists and their markets. They also include a reasonable amount of downtime – totally lacking in this trip to Country X where the day’s events started around 8 am after breakfast and continued without a break to around 9.30 pm - 10 pm. This meant that there was no chance to stop, take stock, answer emails, have a shower or change of clothes before dinner. Bearing in mind the intense heat in Country X at the time of year I visited, the latter should have been an essential. After all, who wants to sit beside sweaty travelling companions at dinner? Note to Country X : if you decide to run future media trips, here are some more suggestions to help reduce negative publicity/ seriously bugging journalists. Itineraries must be agreed in advance Sending the travel writer an unfinished itinerary a couple of days before departure, then adding things willy nilly while the trip is in progress is a bad plan. So is not running to time. For instance, please don’t tell participants that the lunch break is at 1 pm then that same morning drop the bombshell that lunch has been moved to 3 pm. This is not good. Food is important Bad or insufficient food should not happen on a press trip. This leads me to tell of my first meal on this trip to Country X at a ‘traditional’ restaurant. After a long wait in this non air conditioned room where the outside temperature was circa 39°C , several platters were laid on the table. This was meat – animals of many varieties, chopped, boiled, braised and fried with the odd potato and rice finding its way into the mix. I sat patiently waiting for my lunch to arrive. As the hosts requested, I had given a couple of weeks advance notice that I am vegetarian. The ministry hosts, one male, one female, who I'll call 'Fred' and 'Freda' to avoid embarrassing them too much, wolfed down the meaty lunch with hearty enthusiasm without asking why I was still sitting right opposite them with an empty plate. To cut a longish story short, it turned out that, yes indeed, they knew that I am veggie, but unfortunately had forgotten / message hadn’t been passed to appropriate source / couldn’t be bothered to organise whatever needed organising. Not sure which of these reasons it was. So another 55 minutes passed – yes dear reader, a whole 55 minutes, before my lunch arrived. I wish that I could say, ‘wow, it was worth the wait.’ But sadly I cannot. I was presented with a plate containing one piece of boiled broccoli, four strips of red pepper and some potatoes which had possibly been boiled then grilled. Not the best lunch example in this modern ‘Country X’ of the trip title. It wasn't the only time food fail happened for me during this visit though because at the next meal in a different venue, I was again presented with sliced peppers and one piece of broccoli for my main - indeed, only course. Toilets at ‘modern Country X’ attractions are not for the squeamish/ fussy When I asked where the toilets were during an excursion, the pony tailed guide ‘in charge’ of our group who had told us that he had been a tourist guide in Country X for years, pointed me in the direction of a hut in a field. I cannot begin to describe what lay behind the hut's door. Worse than gross is all I will say. As for hand washing facilities, don’t be ridiculous, of course not. But Ponytail who thought he knew it all didn’t know that there was a better option nearby. It wasn't great and had a basin of water to flush the toilet with, but a deal better than the one he sent me to first. Heck, this one even had a basic hand washing option in the shape of a wet hand towel to wipe hands on. (Goodness knows how many hands had used it before.) Another day, another toilet. Picture this. Four rickety tin shacks in a row. Three doors displaying the universally recognised paper cut-out style symbol of a man, the fourth displaying the skirted woman figure. Outside the door to the ‘ladies’ was a uniformed guard. No, I don’t know either. As I approached; he held open the door. Inside there was no lock so, to wedge it shut, I put my camera case on the floor in front of the door. The facility itself was a hole in the ground. A dirty hole at that. No toilet paper, no running water. Disgusting. Okay, I admit it. I’m fussy. I prefer nice, clean loos. Then the door was pushed open from outside and a man came in. I yelled at him and he went out again. Why did the ‘guard’ who knew I was in there let this man come in? Who knows? Country X, take note and perhaps think about bringing these tourist attraction 'facilities' into the 21st century. If you want to sell yourself as 'modern', you know it makes sense. And, ministry hosts *Fred and *Freda, perhaps a ‘sorry for that’ would have made me feel better instead of being criticised by *Fred for ‘complaining’. Helping the writer get the story they need is in everybody’s interests… … was it really a good idea for Ponytail to make another on-the-spot change to the itinerary to take everyone to a shopping mall when we’d already had a 9-hour, non-stop day? "We'll stop here for around 45 minutes", he said. "You can exchange money and do a little shopping." Comically and idiotically we all trooped out of the coach. Once inside the shopping mall though a small mutiny ensued with one journalist from Switzerland telling Ponytail that we were a media group, not a bunch of tourists. We did not want to go shopping. The countries we came from had shopping malls. *Fred and *Freda meanwhile, remained silent. Another day, during a museum visit, the woman in charge rattled on in such unnecessary detail about every single knick knack on view that most of the group were in a light coma long before the visit ended. It wasn't surprising that she overran by over an hour and one journalist told her that we were not in Country X purely to publicise her museum, which would, if she was lucky, warrant a couple of sentences in subsequent features. A couple of journalists had already left the room in disgust telling her we were not art critics. She obviously had not been briefed on the nature of our visit. Looking miffed, she insisted on another group photo (there had already been one) where she sat regally in the middle. *Fred and *Freda did not intervene so some group members pointed out to Woman in Charge that this was only one of many places we would visit over the week. This was one determined lady though. "No! You cannot go until we have visited the 5th floor." She almost stamped her foot in frustration. Still no attempt by *Fred and *Freda to smooth things over but having had more than enough, all journalists headed for the exit. Make sure everyone is reading from the same page One night on the coach returning to the hotel, Ponytail outlined the following day’s trip. He warned that it would be scorching hot (around 40c) so everyone must take sun cream and hats. He also warned that there would be 100 steps to climb down, then a walk lasting 40 minutes to an hour through a desert area with no shade to reach our lunch spot. The return journey would be by vehicle, then a walk up the 100 steps which should be taken at a leisurely pace. *Fred was not there, so I asked Ponytail if there was any way the hour long walk could be avoided. He said no. That's a shame I said, I can't do that unfortunately so won't come but will do something else instead. Ponytail immediately came up with another solution. "There is the option of crossing the desert region in a covered vehicle which will take you from the car park to the restaurant to avoid long exposure to the intense heat, avoid the sun and the 100 steps." Okay I said, in that case I'll come. Sadly, Ponytail's promises were not delivered. After a three and a half hour bumpy coach ride, I still had to use the 100 steps and the vehicle was not covered. In addition, Ponytail offered the vehicle to others, one of whom kept stopping to take photos, so the idea of keeping out of the sun was totally destroyed. I had a huge nosebleed when we reached the restaurant and when *Fred arrived he was angry because he could see that I wasn't well - yes, really! He shouted that I shouldn't have come on the excursion and what did I expect when I didn't wear a sunhat? (Of course I had worn a hat outside but had to pull it from my bag then to show him to prove I wasn't that daft.) I told him that the previous night I had decided not to go on the trip but was persuaded to do so because of what Ponytail said. *Fred's anger grew worse and he demanded to know why I had not spoken to him. I reminded him that he was not there the night before, so it was not possible to speak to him. He told me that he didn't want me to come on any further excursions. He was so rude that I was in tears by then, it was awful. The others were served lunch at a communal table. When someone asked what the meat was, they were told it was chicken. If it was, it had extremely large bones. They did not serve me any food at all although since I wasn't feeling well it didn't really matter. I hardly need say that I came home before the end of the trip. No point in staying when *Fred told me not to come on any more excursions. The circumstances together with *Fred's rudeness made it impossible to stay any longer. And sometimes you get the feeling from the start that things won't go to plan.... Something told me from the start of the trip that it wouldn't run smoothly. Maybe it was because me and my luggage didn't arrive at the same time, or because the driver collecting me from the ministry had waited so long he had no coins left to feed the parking meter. In Country X airport meters don't take card payments so he went to buy a coffee to get coins, then unexpectedly thrust the paper cup at me. In doing so I managed to get drenched with hot coffee. Not his fault, I'm not sure how it happened. Even though the coffee was hot and my top and skirt got wet, I suppose it was a kind gesture on his part. Unfortunate incidents didn't stop there and one night I got trapped in the hotel lift. When I entered the lift there was only one other person inside, but then eight members of the media group charged in when the door was closing. The lift made a heroic effort to rise from the ground floor before jerking to a halt. Someone tried to phone reception but there was no signal while others tried to prise the doors apart. Twenty minutes later, after using the emergency button to no avail and trying to attract attention with a lot of banging and shouting, people came to open the door. What a relief that was. And Country X, if you run future trips, perhaps do so at a different time of year instead of opting for the hottest month? More comfortable for participants. Also, please don't ask *Fred and *Freda to host them, it's obvious they don't know what they are doing. Just saying. |
