Enniskillen Castle: An Irish perspective on World War 1

Michele and I crossed the border to visit the Northern Irish town of Enniskillen.  I recall travelling there during the Troubles.  The journey entailed going through a military checkpoint with heavily armed soldiers and hooks in the road that could be activated to rip your car tyres to shreds.  Today the only clue that you have changed country is the "Fermanagh welcomes you" road sign.

Enniskillen itself is a scenic, peaceful city with a very interesting Castle Museum:

Anyone with a passing familiarity with the horrors of the Famine, or the brutality of the Black and Tans, might be  surprised to know that tens of thousands of Catholic Irish served with conspicuous bravery on the side of the British during the First World War.  The Enniskillen Museum had a tremendous collection of recruitment posters:

The Museum highlighted the famous war poet Francis Ledwidge as an example of the dilemma that Irish Nationalists faced.

Ledwidge was a true Nationalist, having joined the Irish Volunteers in 1914.  Nevertheless he felt honour bound to join the British as he explained in a letter:

However his horror at the British decision to shoot the leaders of the Easter Uprising in 1916, caused him to write "Lament for Thomas MacDonagh" (one of the executed):

He shall not hear the bittern cry
in the wild sky, where he is lain,
Nor voices of the sweeter birds
Above the wailing of the rain

Aran Islands: Justin finally finds friends!

 

 

 

 

Who needs a lawn mower?

When you have cows

Bungalow Blight Battles Poetic Poverty

To ask the questions is to answer them:

• Which dwelling is more aesthetically pleasing?
• Which one would you rather live in?

"Leap Year":  Crimes against Geography and Other Misdemeanours

In the movie, Amy Adams manages to exit a railway station in County Mayo and walk across the road to a pub on the Aran Islands. 

Matthew Goode marmelizes his Oirish accent, but there is something even worse that I have to relate:

I enjoyed it!



Baltimore, Ireland: Staying at Europe's Westernmost railway cottage

My first year at Durham University was spent in a rat infested, coal mining row house, that reeked of the rancid fat that the landlord used to fry the fish and chips on the premises.  The heating was such that snowballs thrown into the house  as a student jape, were still there the next morning. 

Unbelievably, I recently got an e-mail from Mike, a fellow inmate/survivor of that experience.  It turns out that, through a mixture of wisdom and outrageous good fortune, he has ended up married to a beautiful folk singer, Bernadette, and living in Baltimore, one of the planet's unique places.

When Mike invited Michele and I to visit, we could not resist, even though it was not exactly on the way.  We got to stay in the Baltimore railway cottage in which Bernadette was born.  It is a cool place because you can still see the old railway track running through the garden:

Mike and Bernadette have done a wonderful job of renovating the cottage, while keeping true to the spirit of the place:

The highlight of the visit for me, was getting to hear Bernadette, warming up for her re-union performance at the upcoming Birmingham Tradfest (http://www.birminghamtradfest.co.uk/#!artists/cfrr) :

 

Watching an American in Paris in Paris

I have all the musical sensibility of a rock.  Michele, on the other hand is like a bloodhound on the hunt for a fox when it comes to top class musicals.  She locked onto the trail of a cast member for the first night of "An American in Paris", here in Paris.  He had this logo on his jacket:

By following the actor we found our way to the Chatelet Theatre.  However we were turned down at the theatre due to some sort of internet snafu.  I was not too devastated, thinking an early night would not be such a bad thing.  However Michele was not to be deterred.  She went to the box office at the back of the theatre and by some miracle managed to pick up two great seats that showed up on the computer as being cancelled at the last minute.  The show itself proved a huge success with standing ovation, five curtain calls, etc etc

 

Scandal in the Paris Salon circa 1863

We saw this painting at the Musee d'Orsay.  Edouard Manet was shocked, shocked I tell you, that the Paris Salon rejected this work as being scandalous:

What could be scandalous about a woman taking her clothes off in the park and sitting down with two fully clothed men while looking at the artist?

 

Musee Nissim de Camondo:  The short, tragic story of the Camondo family

The Camondos took their Constantinople fortune and moved to Paris in the middle of the nineteenth century.  In Paris, they joined other glittering Jewish Belle Epoque banking families, like the Rothschilds and the Ephrussis, in sponsoring the ground breaking artists of their day such as the Impressionists.

 

The scion of the family, Comte Moise de Camondo, was broken hearted when his son Nissim lost his life fighting for the French air force in 1917.  The death of his son and heir prompted the Comte to bequeath his house and all the artworks therein to the French government.  This misfortune benefitted posterity.  If the house had still been in the family's possession it would have been looted during the war.  As it is the public is now able to see a meticulous 1912 assembly of art and furniture from the late eighteenth century:

 

  

 

 

 

Air BNB makes Ile Saint-Louis (a quiet "village" in the heart of Paris) affordable

Staying in the Ile Saint-Louis is weird in a good way.  There are all the butchers, bakers and cheese shops that you would expect in a thriving village.  It safe and quiet at night and yet you are only a few hundred yards from Notre Dame.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course all these advantages do not normally come cheap.  However AirBNB has brought the price down to 100 Euros a night which is actually extremely reasonable by Paris standards.

 

True, the place we got was not all that spacious.  In fact if we ever need to sell our own house it would be worth it to fly the photographer over from Paris.  Here is a picture taken from their website (https://www.airbnb.ie/rooms/14845?s=9qUE) :

 

 

Despite the cramped quarters, I would not hesitate to recommend the place given the price and location

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sahara: Sun, Sand and Sore Muscles

 

Camel Riding is not as easy as it looks!

We signed up for a three hour camel ride to a nearby "Nomad School" for lunch.  After five minutes we were getting urgent SOS signals from muscles we never knew we had.

Michele was unlucky to be onboard the "freight camel".  The so called "saddle" was not level.  Michele had to push hard against the iron bar so as not to slide off.

Michele had the good sense to resume walking before we reached the village.  My pride got in the way.  Consequently when we arrived, the school children were greeted by the sight of this strange white man hobbling away, until he learned how to walk again.

The "Nomad School"

I do not know what I was expecting, but this school still managed to amaze me.  The "nomad" epithet could better have been applied to the itinerant teacher who only visits for a morning, two or three times a month, on an unscheduled basis.  The kids have to show up every morning on the off chance that he will appear.

The classroom is not elaborate:

 However there are not many students.

The cultural exchange we were hoping for was not that easy, given the language barrier and the lack of a teacher.  The students started off with a very creditable rendition of the Alphabet Song.

We came armed with pens and exercise books.  The kids arrived armed with bead trinkets that their mothers had made.  Michele heroically drew on all her distant teaching experience to bridge the two agendas.

One girl was amazingly literate - demonstrating that remarkable intellects can overcome the most adverse conditions.

Differing Development Agendas

From Qatar, comes the gift of a Game Keeper, complete with Landcruiser, and yurt to protect the Qatari gentleman's falconry territory:

From the West comes this well:

Camping in the Desert

Our camp hosts went to heroic lengths to give us all the comforts of home, stuck out there in the middle of the desert:  mattress off the ground, en suite bathroom area, sheets on the bed, solar powered electric lighting, and aspirations to flush toilets and showers.

 

 

Guests were invited to contribute their own songs around the camp fire.  My rendition of "The Campdown Ladies Sing This Song" was greeted with general bewilderment.

 

 

 

A few photos from the High Atlas

Our route today took us from Marrakech to Ouarzazate, via the Tizi n-Tichka pass, Telouet, and Alt Benhaddou

We were lucky to have a driver, Abdul (not a lot of first names in this part of the world) and a new Toyota Landcruiser Prado.  Even so the driving was a little hairy. Abdul, did not like to get his wheels dirty unless he absolutely had to, so he used to play chicken, hogging the middle of the road in the face of oncoming traffic, until the last possible moment.  He seemed perfectly calm so we assumed there was no reason to worry.

Tizi n-Tichka pass

It was cold and remarkably snowy for Africa at this time of year:

The Kasbah of Telouet - 5 wives and 80 concubines

Our guide, Rashid, knew his audience even if he did not know his history.

According to Rashid, the Kasbah's former owner, Thami el-Glaoui, Pasha of Marrakech, had five wives and 80 concubines.  Rashid explained, rather delicately, that the concubines only stayed around long enough for the Pasha to exercise his "Droit de Seigneur".  I subsequently found out that Wikipedia rather pours cold water on the whole story, which is a real shame.

Despite the fact that much of the structure is rapidly crumbling, there are portions that rival the Alhambra:

This BBC article (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/8704571.stm) raises the hope that what is left, can be preserved.  Based on what we saw today, I would not be too optimistic. 

Alt Benhaddou - the set for movies like "Lawrence of Arabia" and "Gladiator"

Ouarzazate - the boom town in the middle of nowhere that is no longer booming

We are staying here tonight.  Fortunately our hotel is in much better shape than this one.

Culture Shock aboard the Marrakech Slow Train

Beware all those sly Brits trying to slip into Morocco!

The authorities at Marrakech airport were taking no chances. Three flights in an hour and the whole immigration system was totally plugged up.  The baggage hall was a wasteland of unclaimed bags.  About a hundred hotel shuttle drivers were holding up name boards with little expectation of seeing their passengers any time soon.  By some minor miracle Michele somehow managed to find our man out of all the drivers there.  

When a cab ride feels like a trailer for a CIA movie

You do not need to watch all of this to get the flavor:

http://youtu.be/HTFa766kv4A

Lost in translation

There was some "confusion" (translation "bait and switch") over our booking.  As a consequence we ended up spending a night in this very "authentic" (aka "dump") Riad in the Marakech Medina.  The owners apply an eclectic decorative style. This affecting porcelain tableau of some headless maniac cutting his customer's throat left me with nightmares:

There was a happy ending however, because I am writing this in a lovely boutique Riad fifty metres down the alley.

I also gained a stern warning in the perils of relying on Google Translate:

When I asked the store owner for permission to take the photograph, he was incredibly good natured about it - like everyone else that we have met here.  He realized that the joke was on him, but was happy to amuse juvenile tourists like me.