Bear and Jackie’s Travel Diary

So, the 12 day, Virgin Voyages, belt test and liver challenge comes to an end. Will we be back? In a heartbeat! But enough is enough for now.
Our new home here is right near the Old Town in Barcelona. Spent an awesome few days quality testing some local produce whilst wandering around this awesome City. America’s Cup was on outside the marina so pottered down there to watch the POMS try to end 173 years of America’s Cup hurt as they take on ‘the All Blacks on water’. Currently looking like that number will soon be 174 and climbing, a bit like soccer in some ways!

Had an epic flight/lounge combo to Istanbul before heading to the cab rank and a ride into town. Things went rapidly South as our driver pulls into a servo for a piss stop, leaving the meter running obviously. Eventually he reappears with a half scoffed pastry, a coffee and a couple of waters for his newly discovered best friends in the back. Caffeine levels restored, the Speedo shoots past 130, (In a 90 zone!), as he happily rings his chums and texts his latest Tinder potentials. Missing a turn-off before standing on the brakes and reversing back up the freeway was possibly his pièce de résistance as he hurled abuse at a rather startled motor cyclist nipping down the usually empty hard shoulder. The 9% credit card fee did little to calm the situation on arrival.

The roller coaster ride relieved us of a couple of thousand lira, but our new digs are epic. Holed up in Kadikoy on the Asian side of the City where the tourists are less and the general pace of things are a little more gentle.

Nipped out for a quiet libation or two whilst testing out the surprisingly tasty, free, vegan nibbles on the bar. Not a doner kebab in sight. Early to bed before the next day’s kebab hunt.

5 mins walk to the ferry, then about 20 mins pressing buttons on the ticket machine trying to extract a travel card or Istanbul Kart. All starts well in English before you stab the Istanbul Kart option and the machine reverts to Turkish. Turns out we needed to hand over a small stash of Lira and grab a card from the paper/ciggie shop outside. Then return to the machine and ask it to transfer a few more Lira to the card. Tapping the shiny new card on the turnstile turns the green tick into an angry red X. Tried this on a few of them before realising that meant, ‘please head on through’. Since when did a big red X mean ‘Go’? Didn’t get a thank you from the likely recipients of a free ferry ride either, will be stopping at the Lira eating machine on the other side of the Bosporus River for a top up.Ferry ride is great and Istanbul’s famous landmarks gently get closer.

Safely back on dry land and a couple of hundred Lira, (About AU$8), fed added to the card so we head off to the Grand Bazaar in search of nibbles. Not keen on repeating the taxi experience, so shank’s pony is our means of transport. Half an hour or so later and in we go. Holy crap! Miles and miles of twisty passages lined with all manner of highly honest looking humans purveying an unholy selection of floor coverings, jewellery, knock off bags, leather goods and a nasty looking selection of sugar based food. The ‘No thank you, we have our flights home’ line was wearing a bit thin with the carpet flogging chaps and the absence of our trusty SassArt friend meant we gave the very unlikely gold and silver a wide berth. Still not a kebab in sight!

Ventured back outside straight into a virtual spiders web of kebab stalls. Thought that nearly 20 bucks was a bit stiff for a few bits of chicken slapped into a pitta bread, but not nearly as miffed as some unfortunate soul being scammed of about 70 bucks for 2 of them with a handful of chips and tiny cans of sugary water. Took advantage of the ensuing melee by dropping somewhat less than they wanted into the bill thingy and disappearing back into the bazaar in search of the nearest flying carpet! Tally ho!

Our virtual carpet safely transports us from the clutches of the kebab scammers to Basilica Cistern. At a glance, this sounds like some sort of herb scented dunny. It is a tad bigger than that, James Bond rowed his way through it in From Russia with Love. This oversized dunny filling structure was built in 532 for slurping water rather than removing kebab detritus. Today there are only a few inches of coin filled fluids below a walkway through the columns of this underground storage structure. 1500 years later, we can’t whack up an apartment block that lasts more than a few years before it starts leaking. Seriously impressive and well worth the 40 buck entry fee. No kebabs down here either!

Back to the ferry, no free rides for other people this time. No sign of the kebab scammers over here, so let’s get cracking. Jax almost instantaneously procures a grilled mackerel number, I stuck with the more traditional version. Total for both kebabs, a couple of beers each and a bag of olives for the short walk home about the same as our previous dine and dash experience.
Spotted some unusual items on the way home. Could be handy if the chilli sauce intake continues to climb! Will see what tomorrow brings…

As expected, we skipped the pickleball and gave other forms of boat based exercise a wide berth. Opted for a quick scamper up 4 flights of stairs for brekky. Swift bacon sanga and coffee, then back down the 4 flights of stairs to collect passports and camelback in case there is a lack of fluids on the island. Bollocks! Empty! Back up to the galley on level 15 to fill the bugger up with ice and chilled water before the dizzying decent to level 4 and dry land. Old town first. Took a gentle hike up to the top of this ancient fortress and a mooch around a few shops. Eventually popped out of an impressive looking portcullis and drawbridge combination at the bottom. Someone should let the powers-that-be here know that there is an unguarded path round the back!Headed off to an information booth to discuss my findings, grab a map and ask the helpful chap where the best bars were. He happily scribbled on our new map before Jax asks about ‘noisy’ bars. Disturbingly, the pen shifts well away from the old town to Platja den Bossa, a good half hour or so away by bus. Need to be safely back on board by 5.30, so hopped into a cab and asked the cabbie to put his foot down. Carlos Sainz’s older brother willingly obliged and took the checkered flag in record time.We wandered into a rather posh beach club full of Aperol Spritz slurpers, sun bakers and large bellied sorts. The only tunes here were whinging children begging for chips, burgers and fizzy beverages. Might give this one a pass and take a wander down the beach. The sounds of doof doof soon get clearer as we take refuge in the Hard Rock Beach Bar. A couple of thirst quenchers later we can see our boat in the distance so decide on a bit of a pub crawl.After a few fluid/food stops, we somehow got back to the boat inside the curfew before joining our newest Aussie chums for karaoke. A couple of hours and wines later, there is a little knock on the door and a staff member politely inviting us to fu(k off. OK, dinner it is then. The two of us had a booking at the posh Italian joint, so we thought we’d try our luck getting all four of us in. The smartly dressed maître d didn’t seem very happy to see us, but quietly shuffled us off into a corner somewhere before we sent him packing with the latest wine order. Not sure what we had for dinner but we woke up with $37 left on our pre paid bar tab. Probably not a bad thing.Last trek up the stairs for brekky, then a sad farewell to this awesome vessel and hello Barcelona……

OK, I am officially a cruise addict. A couple of caveats here..

1. Adults only

2. 5 star restaurants 

3. See item 1

This thing is bonkers! Will probably be planning trips around Virgin Voyages for a while. Personally, couldn’t care less about Casablanca. Humphrey Bogart & Co are welcome to it! There was also Morocco’s latest cruiseliner in port, didn’t fancy that either. Málaga today, on the other hand is awesome. 

Gently extracted ourselves from our rather posh cabin for smoked salmon and a couple of poached eggs, then an hour or so of pickleball before venturing into town. Spent some time wafting around this awesome City before smashing out a truly Herculean paella, a delicious plate of boquerones en vinagre and a few local beverages. Missing the last bus back to the dock and having to run with the aforementioned paella sloshing about was never an option, so back with an hour or so to spare. Ibiza tomorrow could be a tad riskier. Might give the Brekky/pickleball combo a swerve and get stuck in nice and early. Daytime trance, let’s go! 

May try to behave ourselves tonight but not setting unrealistic goals! The tunes are already pumping around the pool, oh and the bar is open, bloody oath!!

Some of last night’s behaviour will remain unpublished and forever engrained in the memories of those silly enough to stay up late.

Innocent start to the day with bagels and smoked salmon. Smashed out an hour or so of pickleball then a waft around Lisbon and a cheeky beer or two. Scarlet Night 2nite could be a late one so focusing on pace and distance. Oh dear! Karaoke started the proceedings after a few late afternoon bubbles then back to the cabin and get geared up.

It was always the idea to misbehave and get into the pool fully dressed, some poor bugger’s hairpiece got involved before we were invited to vacate the premises.

Downstairs for dry clothing and off to the night club!

Only 1 more week of this to endure

Eating and drinking is always fun. This mob, (Virgin Voyages!), have elevated the experience to ‘next level’. All day brekky, burgers and other tasty morsels are available. Lifts covering all 16 levels cater for vertical transport afterwards. Bento boxes, noodle and poke bowls, salad and leafy stuff for those who probably use the stairs rather than lifts. Somewhere in the middle are less common bits like brekky tacos with poached eggs or buffalo mozzarella and tomato toasties. Managed to smash both of those with a few bacon rashers, a sausage and a liberal dose of chilli sauce before rapidly tackling the stairs on-route to the dunny.

I have a somewhat perverse interest in reinventions of Sir Thomas Crapper’s Victorian invention. The dunny on a cruise liner is a bit different to the flush and brush variety at home. Also very different to the foot pump version on the average 30 footer! Pressing the innocent looking button on the wall activates a fairly violent vacuum, removing the aforementioned chilli sauce combo with a satisfying rush of air! A bit like an inverted shart! Holding onto loose clothing during this process is a good idea.

Time for a spot of relaxation in the balcony hammock before engaging in a few of this afternoon’s activities. The pickleball court was under about an inch of water yesterday and the court is allocated to noisy Americans with basketballs today. Other noisy Americans are also participating in something called dodge ball. Might give that a miss.

Salty Trivia, bevvies and bites sound more up our alley. Followed by a sail-in party to replace the washed out sail away version from Portsmouth. Booked into the rather swanky looking ‘Extra Virgin’ Italian for dinner. Might waft out into Lisbon for a nightcap or two afterwards. Gunna be a tough 12 days!

Richard Branson isn’t known for being quiet or shy. Recent images of him jumping, fully clothed into a pool on one of his boats looked like a good enough reason to hop onto one! Resilient Lady was waiting patiently in Portsmouth Dock as we clambered on board with about 2,500 of our new best friends. 20 eateries and about the same number of bars on board should keep essential fluids and sustenance requirements sorted. A heap of hot tubs and several pools cater for those who prefer the outdoor experience. There are also a few gyms, yoga and stretchy stuff for those who seem to forget that this is meant to be a holiday! The daily list of stuff on board requires more than one sitting to read through, let alone participate!

English weather delays departure on night one so we popped our PJs on and went to ……. A PJ party! Fortunately I was not the only person with most of his kit off, a lad donning his girlfriend’s see through undies took the biscuit there, enough said! Slow start and wobbly boat the next morning towards A Coruña. Couple of days sailing and here we are. Just need to get back on board before the boat buggers off!

Richard Branson sensibly decided that taking billion dollar vessels through a war zone to get to Oz might increase the insurance premiums a touch. Tassie cruise idea binned but the same boat now plies its trade around Europe. Sound like an awesome excuse to jump on a plane…

First stop, Essex. Home of Sam and Nicole. No excuse required to enjoy our time here, but the trip conveniently included Sam’s Birthday. Whacked a few chooks onto the BBQ, aided and abetted by the Essex Clan. Great opportunity to meet up with these wonderful characters before next year’s wedding in Bali. Can’t wait!

We have never been to Saaaarfend so Sam and Nic convinced us that a wander down the pier and some fish and chips would be fun. Southend Pier is a fucking monster, sticking out a mile or so into the Thames Estuary. It even has its own train line for people too lazy to walk. We took the 50:50 option, walked out:train back. Pretty cool actually, whilst working up a fish and chip appetite. Looking down the seafront offers a wide variety of hospitality venues, all of them with identical menus! Picked the least tacky version and contemplated our orders. Oh, 4 fish and chips please! This part of the world isn’t exactly known for its cuisine, so anything that can’t be deep fried is a bit of a special item. Tums rumbling louder now, that ‘special item’ request is causing the kitchen a few dramas. Having your fish ‘grilled’ rather than covered in batter and dunked in the boiling, artery clogging oil was clearly a complex task. Holy crap, we could have caught, cleaned, filleted, cooked and eaten this bloody thing in the time it took for them to work out how to work the grill! Maybe the left over batter on Jax’s plate had gone through some cleansing process before Sam smashed it out anyway! Fish and Chips by the sea is generally awesome, this was no exception. Off to to the amusement arcade for a few giggles. Plenty of old favourites in here, Outrun, Pacman and an unholy selection of throwy, shooty stuff. 20 quids worth of tokens used up, back to Leigh on Sea. Off to the Big Smoke to find Hazza and Jazza next

We had found ourselves a luxury apartment in Mile End that looked nice and close to the station and a piece of piss for getting in and out of town. Luxury for most of includes things like flying business class, fine dining and top notch accommodation. Luxury for the bellend that owns this place, maybe! Maybe he just missed out the word ‘student’ in the title, and clearly hasn’t updated the shiny photos from a few years ago. Shitty couch sitting on a rug that had consumed too much lager with a sticky up corner waving “Help me!”. Solitary fan in bits on the floor, air con fucked, (Yes, it was warm and opening windows on Mile End Road is not an option!). Naked lightbulbs producing a level of light that an iPhone would be ashamed of and ‘hot’ water that was either tepid or ball bag boiling depending on its mood. Fuck it, off to Wetherspoons in Canary Wharf for a couple of cheery uppers!

Met Hazza in her Brick Lane pad before a gentle amble down Brick Lane and the obligatory salt-beef bagel. “Mustard and pickles Sir?”, “Absolutely!”. More eating and general wafting around Spitalfield Markets. A few more feeds including the mother of all Turkish feasts in Mile End. Lunch with the Benjo’s. A cheeky school reunion in Covent Garden’s Lamb and Flag. Then bye bye to the ‘luxury’ student digs and off to Kent to see Mum and Roy.

Next stop, Jackie’s fabulous bestie from Jersey, Ima together with her new beau, Terry. Decided against the trek over the Channel to Jersey and jumped onto a train to Brockenhurst in the New Forest. Cue the predictable, reunion shenanigans in this awesome rural setting. Forest Park County Hotel is pretty fricken awesome too. Somehow managed to avoid any horse based activities and went for horsepower instead. Enough to hustle a few go karts around South Coast Karting’s cheeky outdoor track. Too much fun. Sadly our few days with Ima and Terry come to an end and it’s off to Portsmouth with Hells Bells who kindly offered to collect us! Don’t mind if we do!

Any visit to the House of Hells Bells starts with a Gin and Tonic. The rest is generally predictable and always a hoot. Managed to take over the kitchen for the evening and somehow ended up in our cruise party gear again! Early start in the morning for the shuffle to Portsmouth and our boat. Non starting cars are never funny. Non starting cars when you are aiming to jump on a big boat that will happily leave without you are especially not funny. Uber requested, bags unloaded and we are off….

Thousands of Australians in weather dependent businesses or people planning weather dependent activities carefully watch the weather forecast. Today, that includes us. 7am, it says, pissing with rain all day. Little peek out of the window looks like the bald weather forecaster is likely to be in need of sun screen or a hat rather than a brolly. How are these imbeciles allowed to remain in employment? Those of us in real businesses make decisions based on this rubbish. Hundreds of outdoor events have probably been cancelled today in the face of torrential rain that wankers like Professor Tim Flannery said we would never see again. You and the BOM should be publicly flogged for your scaremongering and incompetence.

So bugger it, popped the coffee on with a few slices of locally sourced bacon and sour dough for brekky. Also liberated the cork on some Rosé bubbles to begin our day. Nothing finer than watching the local Roos beginning their day by smashing out anything green next door.

Uber booked for 11am, so we casually await its arrival on the porch. Our Uber driver for the day is Grayson in his Robinson 44 Helicopter. He swoops the beast in and gently parks it on the lawn right outside our accommodation. Don’t mind if we do.

After a quick safety briefing and a couple of swift ‘not our fault if you die’ signatures we climb into our transport for the day. Grayson ensures we are all buckled in, doors firmly closed and headsets on, he sticks his head out of the door and shouts “clear tail”. Maybe to warn the aforementioned marsupials that the spinny bits are about to rotate. Then he winds up the R44’s six cylinders and releases the clutch. Couple of minutes warming up and ATC checks complete, he gives the collective a yank and off we go. This little bugger is surprisingly nimble, gaining altitude and banking off with alarming speed. Maybe letting the pilot know that we had a couple of thousand skydives under our belts was a bit of an oversight! For anyone who hasn’t been in a non military chopper, it’s akin to being in your own personal camera drone, without the goggles or swiftly diminishing battery. Making the most of the BOM’s inaccuracy, we get treated to a 20 minute scenic tour of the Hunter on route to our first stop. Wine tasting at Ivanhoe Wines. A gentle low hover encourages a few very fat geese to vacate the landing area and we are back on terra firma.

Generally, when you arrive at the cellar door, there is a bit of a wait whilst a few dusty glasses get a wipe and one of the staff checks the latest list of wanky words to describe fermented grape juice. Approachable, is still one of my favourites. Make a rather noisier entrance by helicopter and all of a sudden, you are royalty. All other wine tastings are postponed as patrons record the landing and check out the passengers. Good morning, my name is Bond, Bear Bond! We get ushered to a pre-set table where a Geordie lad called Danny asks if we are on telly as he parks a nibbles platter and the tasting menu on the table. We can choose six but it’s ok if we go for seven! We naturally assumed that meant six each, so we selected everything with two ticks against the Tawny Port. Danny trimmed this selection back to a vineyard approved quota and spent the next hour or so pouring and describing our reduced selection. He also managed to whip out the stuff that isn’t meant to be open for tasting. Grayson by now has finished his first bottle of wine and is patiently waiting at the bar. Grabbed a bottle of the ‘not for tasting’ fortified stuff and a Rosé roadie and headed back to our Uber.

Next stop, Muse Kitchen for a spot of lunch. Sadly, with no thanks to Government incompetence and a Central Bank with only one lever to pull, this Hunter Valley icon is closing down. 2 covers, Monday to Thursday not going to cut the moutard. Epic crab and octopus starters followed by barramundi and venison mains, washed down with a couple of GnTs and more of the Hunter Valley’s finest. 2 hours goes way too fast before a quick dash to the cellar door for another roadie and a wander back to Grayson and our Uber.

Fingers crossed that Grayson has had a a few less beverages than we have as he launches the R44 skywards and back to our accommodation. Having gently parked it right in front of our porch, we say our cheerios as he roars off into the sky.

What an utterly epic day, wedding tomorrow arvo. Cheers!

Aus is home for us and I fucking love the place. Some of the local flora and fauna can be a tad feisty but that only adds to the fun. Don’t like it? Please feel free to politely go away!

Spiders are feisty creatures, the males get a rough wake up call after the wedding night shenanigans, brings a whole new level of demand to the ‘was that good for you’ question.

Spider in this case has 2 legs, a big, beefy torso and Merv Hughes style facial decoration. We arrived in Coowonga in the middle of nowhere. Just a big bloody field where you can park your horse overnight for a princely $10. They also chuck in a fire barrel and a heap of hardwood to keep the friendly midges away. Spider’s function here revolves mainly around building stuff, mending stuff and annoying climate change whingers by chopping down hardwood trees for firewood. Aeroguard and several hundred degrees of fire pit did little to prevent hordes of airborne terrorists from joining in the fun. There is also a pretty scary looking longhorn bull wandering around the paddock as a gentle reminder not to use the bush as your own personal dunny. There is a dunny here from a bygone era, views and airflow awesome, plumbing and privacy need some attention. Maybe something for the Spider to have a squizz at. Spent 3 nights in the company of the Spider before blood levels started getting a bit low, took a dignified retreat to the chemist for antihistamines and pastures new.

Rosedale Pub is also in the middle of nowhere, owned and run by a couple of Kiwis, Dee and Mike. At 2pm on a Sunday arvo, the place was noisy and full to the brim with people getting on with some fairly professional levels of beverage consumption! The young lass in the kitchen got a tad lippy with the owner at lunch so we decided to have some fun. Slid the chef’s outfit on and popped the knife roll under my arm before marching into the kitchen as the new head chef. 10 minutes of Gordon Ramsay style abuse later we let the cat out of the bag and returned to the bar. Just in time to avoid the flying tongs and jug of icy water that landed square in the boss’s grinning face. Job done! Turns out we had also agreed to attend a BBQ the next day with a couple of other local identities, Butch and Sausage.

Butch and Sausage also live in a field in the middle of nowhere. Butch in a bloody big hanger with all of his boaty/farm toys. Sausage in a hut on stilts that slides on and off $130 grands worth of souped up truck. We have a dear friend called Sausage from school. Communal showers are part of the whole boarding school experience where dropped soap generally stays on the floor! This Sausage earned his name from the barbecued variety. After a particularly intense drinking session he had a bit of a tactical chunder, regurgitating an entire, unchewed pork sword for people’s enjoyment. Sausage is also well off the ADHD scale, taking great pleasure in racing the girls around the paddock and in the air with 4WD trucks without spilling a drop! A compound bow got an airing along with an FPV drone and firearms. Firearms, compound bow and 4WD vehicles somehow survived along with all participants, the drone has seen better days. Much fun had, back to the pub for a nightcap and Nurofen!

Around 1913, an ambitious Spaniard, José Paronella, sailed to Far North Queensland searching for a better life. Well over 100 years before an arrogant army of geriatric POMs decided that Earl Grey Tea, Big Ears & Co were more relevant than relationships with Europe. Maybe he was psychic and hopped onto a boat to the other side of the world.
He left his future wife at home, planning to accrue a large enough pile of cash to set themselves up. 13 years later, mission accomplished, he popped back to Spain to fetch the Mrs. Sadly for José, the future Mrs Paronella had got the shits. Apparently, she waited 10 years without a word so decided to make paella with some other chap. All was not lost, José hooks up with her younger sister and heads back to Oz to build his dream.

Although José’s letter writing skills were somewhat lacking, his vision and imagination were off the scale. Building his own castle next to a waterfall, planting about 7000 trees including avenues of Kauris, secret gardens through underground tunnels, entertainment areas, a cinema, ballroom and tennis court. The bloke also worked out in the 1930’s that hydroelectric power might be a good idea. Building his own system to power the property and feed electricity back to the local town. Maybe some of the imbeciles that we have in various levels of government could take a page out of his book rather than focus purely on subsidies for wind and solar, just a thought.

Sadly, the place was delivered a bit of a monstering from Mother Nature. Cyclones and floods took their toll. A large kitchen fire probably didn’t help and José met his maker in 1948. Fast forward 75 years and Paronella Park is heritage listed under new custodians reviving Paronella’s dream. Lots of work to be done here but difficult not to get swept up in the passion of owners past and present. Wished Mark all the best and continued on with our own dream.