Well, that's that then
We arrived in London on 01st March and having only had time to blink a couple of times, Bamm, it's time to depart.
It's been a great eight months.
Plenty of highs and no lows.
And do we want to return to these parts in the near future, of course we do.
Meantime both Julia and myself are looking forward to catching up with our children and friends.
Then over the Christmas period we might just start hatching plans for 2013.
One things for sure, the UK and Europe will continue to be exciting destinations for us to revisit, and neither of us plan to die still wondering "what if"
We trust you all enjoyed our Blog
11,000 visit hits indicate that some of you out there in ether land have enjoyed catching up with our adventure. good stuff
Until next time
Cheers, Julia and John
Wednesday, 31 October 2012
Monday, 22 October 2012
Saturday evening and we are off to Camden. Boring it wasn't
Saturday evening was a bit of a blast. We headed off late afternoon to Camden for a few drinks prior to taking in a concert performed at The Roundhouse by an old USA rocker group The Steve Miller Band. The evening itself was simply brilliant. Camden is a crazy part of London filled to overflowing on a Saturday evening with all kinds of weirdos and alternative lifestylers. We hunkered down at a Brazilain bar called Coco Bamboo and had a bird's eye view of all the Punk Mowhawk Brigade action at a seedy bar directly over the road called Barfly. Talk about some weird sights, it was brilliant, right down to the seventy year old punk adorned with probably the world's biggest Mowhawk. That guy wasn't about to be missed as his head gear was dyed dayglo purple.
The concert itself exceeded all expectations. These old dudes certainly knew how to wind up the audience.
All that aside, the highlight of the evening had to be the hour plus trip up from Pimlico to Camden on bus number 24.
Actually under normal circumstances the trip should have been a no brainer, with a quick tube trip however as luck would have it our local and only tube line (Victoria) was closed for the weekend to enable work to be carried out on the track , however Plan B should have been no problem as the No 24 bus runs directly from Pimlico, up through the central city via Trafalgar Square , then onto Camden, with a final destination of Hampstead Heath.
The one thing you have to be conscious of before you have your Oyster card scanned as you enter the bus is the fact that occasionally the bus will only travel as far as Victoria, then terminate.
With that knowledge in mind Julia waited until the buses metallic PA voice announced " 24 ......to...Hampstead Heath " , before she hit the electronic payment pad with her card. Then a second later the woman queuing behind us then leaned past me and said to the driver "is this bus actually going to Hampstead Heath " as it says on the front that its now terminating at Victoria.
The driver just looks at all of us through his hooded dead Jamaican eyes for maybe ten seconds then slowly says " the bus now terminates Victoria".
This woman then immediately says to the driver "well you shouldn't have the bus telling the passengers that it's still going to Hampstead Heath " then looking at Julia , says to the driver " you owe this woman a refund " . The driver thinks this new development over for a few seconds and decides the best course of action is to simply ignore all dialogue and with that he just stares forward and avoids all eye contact. Our new friend was not about to give up and says" look, you must give this woman a credit, it wasn't her fault" . Still no response .
Time to step up to the plate and with that decision made and in a very solid and threatening voice I look directly at the driver and tell him that I appreciate he is in no position to give my wife a £1.30 credit, however I am so impressed with his attempts to help us that having now noted his name, the bus number , and the specific location of where he has gone out of his way to help my wife, I intend to approach his employers so I can commend his actions to those higher up the tree.
Stalemate......actually it was Check Mate.
Nobody is moving. The driver can't close the doors .
Finally the driver blinks, and very , very slowly leans over to the Oyster pay pad where he proceeds to stick out a big black pudgy finger and press the 'credit last fare' button, and with that a paper credit for £1.30 is spat out of the machine.
As we exit the bus the woman behind us takes one last shot at the driver who by now has the look in his eyes of that of a potential killer and she says to him in an ironic tone " it's a miracle, you can in fact issue credits, .....just like any other bus driver."
The doors slam shut and the bus screams away from the stop at manic speed.
While we await the correct bus I'm chatting to the woman who advises us that todays communist /labour left protest around parliament is still going strong
and said that as our route took us directly through the path of the protest we should anticipate adding at least a further thirty minutes to our planned seventy minute trip. She was bang on with that estimate.Re. the protest itself, apparently the organisers (inclusive of some Labour MP's) used the day as a platform to call for a General Strike. Talk about wanting to drive your country to hell in a hand basket. You have to wonder? Anyway, the thought of some mid trip entertainment courtesy of the sight of drenched protesters sheltering under their placards outside parliament as dark descended and the rain pelted down, well that sight was going to be an attraction in itself.
Onwards, we and our new friend boarded the correct bus a minute on, trooped upstairs and grabbed seats on the right hand side so we could get uninterrupted views of all the action at Westminster.
However, drama was just around the corner at the very next stop and it came in the form of a stylishly dressed early middle aged business type woman.
The bus came to a halt and as she entered the bus I heard the woman ask/state (I'm not quite sure on that one) "is this bus going to Sloane Square. I have a prepaid ticket for Sloane Square."
I and our new friend could smell trouble brewing so we both started looking down at the scene of the action.
The bus driver patiently explained that this was the number 24 heading for Victoria, Trafalgar Square and points north. The bus she wanted was the 360 , which didn't depart from this stop however if she would exit the bus and head around the corner and stop at the next stop , then she would be in business.
Return Serve, the woman then says, " look I purchased this ticket on the basis I could travel to Sloane Square from this stop, I find your explanation unhelpful , and I certainly won't be walking in the rain to another bus stop"
So the driver says, "it is what it is, we are off to Victoria, you can either come along or get off the bus."
The woman then fairly explodes and says " I'm not leaving this bus. This bus is to go nowhere until I receive a full cash refund for my ticket . I am very angry etc etc"
Now at this point our new friend, who was obviously now running late, leaps out off her seat, flies down the stairs and yells at the woman " nether I nor the thirty people you are severely delaying give a dam about your problems. The driver can't refund in cash. Accept this reality and either sit down quietly or GET OFF THE BUS!"
We now play our minor role in this drama by way of a huge round of applause.
The bus driver then throws petrol right onto this fast burning bonfire when he closes the bus front door and starts to pull away from the curve.
That did it. The woman then starts yelling at the top of her voice about how she is going to sue everyone in sight and with that she starts booting the door.
You have to give it to the driver, he knew how to time the opening of the door with a well placed kick.
Both occurred at precisely the same moment and with that the woman unintentionally catapulted herself out onto the pavement.
Another round of applause, a couple of high fives and we are off (with speed) down Belgrave Road.
All the passengers on board are grinning and actually conversing with each other. This is indeed a momentous occasion.
There was one minor moment as we departed from the stop outside the Westminster Cathedral when a drunk attempted to run in through the front doors of the bus a nano second after they had closed. In the grand scheme of things this moment in time is hardly worth a mention, and I only commented on it because it's the first time I've ever seen a guy knock himself out cold when attempting to enter a bus .
I don't think the £1.30 charge for these trips is enough to cover this quality of street entertainment . I would have gladly forked out a fiver to take in all this action.
I'm really going to miss this city.The thought of walking through Hagley Park with just the dog as company doesn't quite cut it after all the action we have been exposed to over these last eight months.
Cheers
The concert itself exceeded all expectations. These old dudes certainly knew how to wind up the audience.
All that aside, the highlight of the evening had to be the hour plus trip up from Pimlico to Camden on bus number 24.
Actually under normal circumstances the trip should have been a no brainer, with a quick tube trip however as luck would have it our local and only tube line (Victoria) was closed for the weekend to enable work to be carried out on the track , however Plan B should have been no problem as the No 24 bus runs directly from Pimlico, up through the central city via Trafalgar Square , then onto Camden, with a final destination of Hampstead Heath.
The one thing you have to be conscious of before you have your Oyster card scanned as you enter the bus is the fact that occasionally the bus will only travel as far as Victoria, then terminate.
With that knowledge in mind Julia waited until the buses metallic PA voice announced " 24 ......to...Hampstead Heath " , before she hit the electronic payment pad with her card. Then a second later the woman queuing behind us then leaned past me and said to the driver "is this bus actually going to Hampstead Heath " as it says on the front that its now terminating at Victoria.
The driver just looks at all of us through his hooded dead Jamaican eyes for maybe ten seconds then slowly says " the bus now terminates Victoria".
This woman then immediately says to the driver "well you shouldn't have the bus telling the passengers that it's still going to Hampstead Heath " then looking at Julia , says to the driver " you owe this woman a refund " . The driver thinks this new development over for a few seconds and decides the best course of action is to simply ignore all dialogue and with that he just stares forward and avoids all eye contact. Our new friend was not about to give up and says" look, you must give this woman a credit, it wasn't her fault" . Still no response .
Time to step up to the plate and with that decision made and in a very solid and threatening voice I look directly at the driver and tell him that I appreciate he is in no position to give my wife a £1.30 credit, however I am so impressed with his attempts to help us that having now noted his name, the bus number , and the specific location of where he has gone out of his way to help my wife, I intend to approach his employers so I can commend his actions to those higher up the tree.
Stalemate......actually it was Check Mate.
Nobody is moving. The driver can't close the doors .
Finally the driver blinks, and very , very slowly leans over to the Oyster pay pad where he proceeds to stick out a big black pudgy finger and press the 'credit last fare' button, and with that a paper credit for £1.30 is spat out of the machine.
As we exit the bus the woman behind us takes one last shot at the driver who by now has the look in his eyes of that of a potential killer and she says to him in an ironic tone " it's a miracle, you can in fact issue credits, .....just like any other bus driver."
The doors slam shut and the bus screams away from the stop at manic speed.
While we await the correct bus I'm chatting to the woman who advises us that todays communist /labour left protest around parliament is still going strong
and said that as our route took us directly through the path of the protest we should anticipate adding at least a further thirty minutes to our planned seventy minute trip. She was bang on with that estimate.Re. the protest itself, apparently the organisers (inclusive of some Labour MP's) used the day as a platform to call for a General Strike. Talk about wanting to drive your country to hell in a hand basket. You have to wonder? Anyway, the thought of some mid trip entertainment courtesy of the sight of drenched protesters sheltering under their placards outside parliament as dark descended and the rain pelted down, well that sight was going to be an attraction in itself.
Onwards, we and our new friend boarded the correct bus a minute on, trooped upstairs and grabbed seats on the right hand side so we could get uninterrupted views of all the action at Westminster.
However, drama was just around the corner at the very next stop and it came in the form of a stylishly dressed early middle aged business type woman.
The bus came to a halt and as she entered the bus I heard the woman ask/state (I'm not quite sure on that one) "is this bus going to Sloane Square. I have a prepaid ticket for Sloane Square."
I and our new friend could smell trouble brewing so we both started looking down at the scene of the action.
The bus driver patiently explained that this was the number 24 heading for Victoria, Trafalgar Square and points north. The bus she wanted was the 360 , which didn't depart from this stop however if she would exit the bus and head around the corner and stop at the next stop , then she would be in business.
Return Serve, the woman then says, " look I purchased this ticket on the basis I could travel to Sloane Square from this stop, I find your explanation unhelpful , and I certainly won't be walking in the rain to another bus stop"
So the driver says, "it is what it is, we are off to Victoria, you can either come along or get off the bus."
The woman then fairly explodes and says " I'm not leaving this bus. This bus is to go nowhere until I receive a full cash refund for my ticket . I am very angry etc etc"
Now at this point our new friend, who was obviously now running late, leaps out off her seat, flies down the stairs and yells at the woman " nether I nor the thirty people you are severely delaying give a dam about your problems. The driver can't refund in cash. Accept this reality and either sit down quietly or GET OFF THE BUS!"
We now play our minor role in this drama by way of a huge round of applause.
The bus driver then throws petrol right onto this fast burning bonfire when he closes the bus front door and starts to pull away from the curve.
That did it. The woman then starts yelling at the top of her voice about how she is going to sue everyone in sight and with that she starts booting the door.
You have to give it to the driver, he knew how to time the opening of the door with a well placed kick.
Both occurred at precisely the same moment and with that the woman unintentionally catapulted herself out onto the pavement.
Another round of applause, a couple of high fives and we are off (with speed) down Belgrave Road.
All the passengers on board are grinning and actually conversing with each other. This is indeed a momentous occasion.
There was one minor moment as we departed from the stop outside the Westminster Cathedral when a drunk attempted to run in through the front doors of the bus a nano second after they had closed. In the grand scheme of things this moment in time is hardly worth a mention, and I only commented on it because it's the first time I've ever seen a guy knock himself out cold when attempting to enter a bus .
I don't think the £1.30 charge for these trips is enough to cover this quality of street entertainment . I would have gladly forked out a fiver to take in all this action.
I'm really going to miss this city.The thought of walking through Hagley Park with just the dog as company doesn't quite cut it after all the action we have been exposed to over these last eight months.
Cheers
Monday, 15 October 2012
It's great being a spectator on this watery highway
Over a period of seven days on this canal we have had any number of opportunities to take in what's going down on other boats.
Yesterday was pretty interesting. We had overnighted in the middle of nowhere next to a drinking tap suitable for filling small water containers or whatever.
Anyway, no sooner had John C, Sue and Julia strolled off to the local village to nail bread , when up motors a huge boat manned by a French middle aged couple and their three kids. The wife spotted the water tap and frantically indicated to her husband that he should pull over to fill their tanks. No problem..Once moored up in front of our bow the father spoke directly to his kids giving them the obvious message that as they were responsible for the boats water shortages it was up to them to rectify the problem . And with that the father sauntered off to the village . Then the problems began in earnest. It a nutshell, the kids don't have the appropriate hose connections to join the boats hose with the tap. They tried all manner of means to force water down that hose but it just wasn't going to be a happening thing. I had give it to these kids, they weren't about to give up. Now bear in mind at this juncture that the boat their father had hired probably contained a water tank that would accommodate at least 1,600 litres. So what solution did these children come ups with. Well, they started filling this tank with a 1.5 litre water bottle. The whole thing was a disaster, high on energy and low on positive outcome.
My fellow crew return and John C immediately fired up our engine in preparation for departure. The father had by this time returned to his boat, realised we were about to cast off ,immediacy figured out that we would reach the next lock first, and without further ado ordered his children to quit the water filling thing and immediately cast off. Whooom, off he motored at full,speed , leaving me thinking to myself, " I wonder how that guys going to feel when it dawns on him that all these locks hold three boats at once and on that basis we will be meeting up with him again in about fifteen minutes"
When we finally arrived at said lock the father , having realised he'd made a bit of an arse of himself, then proceeded to avoid all eye contact with our crew whilst we went through the usual lock routine.
As the lock master opened the outgoing lock gates the father pressed his throttle to the max and fairly flew off down the canal.
We slowly motored off and as it was near noon ( the lock keeper closes the locks for lunch between 1230-1330) I started talking to John C about a subject dear to my heart , the French habit of discussing food at every turn , and as I started speculating that he French family in front of it would be dong it hard eating their lunch "on the run" , blow me down if we aren't confronted by the sight of their boat careening over to the right had bank. The kids the proceeded to leap off the boat onto the canal bank and had secured their vessel to a couple of trees all within the space of twenty seconds.
We quietly motored past their boat maybe a minute later and as we drew level with their dining area I looked over and you guessed it, all the family were heavily chowing down into the ritual they called lunch.
I looked over to Julia, tapped by watch with a knowing look and mouthed the words "it's Manger O'Clock" . Julia returned with a wink .
I love the French , they are my kind of people. They know what they want, when they want it, and aren't about to let something as trivial a motoring a boat get in the way of their objective
Classic stuff.
Cheers
PS. I should also mention that the wife and all three children were decked out in normal gear whilst the father was attired in a very smart blue and yellow " designer canal boat skippers jacket " in combo with a most stylish cap. All very nice.
A word on Canal boats
The boat we hired for the week on the Canal du Midi was only built last season so it's in pretty good shape. Both Julia and yours truly enjoy the odd sail however we are not what you would describe as dyed in the wool yachties.
So when it comes to our take on a vessels amenities we come from the " I hope this thing is loaded with all the mod cons" type of people.
The positives
It doesn't leak. Unlike previous boats this sucker has all the appropriate power fittings. The heating works . There's plenty of hot water. The steering comes equipped with bow thrusters , an innovation which is a god send when negotiating your way through forty plus locks. The beds are comfortable, if a little,small. There's plenty of storage and the galley is fully equipped . And finally, the dining area is spacious . With these boat you really need to book the six berth variety to accommodate two couples plus their baggage without running short on space
The negatives.
Three majors
THE SHOWER, located in the bathroom. When you fire up the shower water goes absolutely everywhere . As the toilet is located within this very small bathroom you have to remember to move the toilet roll into your bedroom prior to firing up the shower head. First time around we must have pumped something like twenty litres of water into our toilet roll. God, what a mess. ( I take the blame for this disaster) . Not wishing to admit being a fool I didn't mention this little episode to Julia. On reflection that was a bit of a mistake as when it came time for Julia's shower she managed to totally destroy the replacement roll. We know have this procedural issue under control .
THE TOILET
There are three major issues at play here.
Lets be frank. These toilets are of a size suited to the bums of small children , dwarves or anorexics. It's just not physically possible for a normal limbed person to be able to do their business without being painfully aware that this whole "toilet thing" is a bit of a mission.
The flushing process. This is not your press and flush Deal. That would be way too easy. No, this is your hand pump in action . I won't go into all the gory details suffice to say that the energy required to pump this toilet "solids free" is akin to the effort required to cut down a small stand of trees with a blunt hack saw. I'm not kidding. This is very strenuous stuff. To be honest the whole process puts one right off any thoughts relating to bowel movements.
And the final issue is the question of when does one flush. Just bear in mind there are no holding tanks on this vessel. All waste is discharged directly into the canal. That's OK if you are motoring along by yourself. However if you are berthed in a fully booked marina it's a very tricky call when it comes to the question of when to get down and dirty with the flush pump.
Guys, it's a yucky business all round.
LACK OF FREE WIFI
Getting WiFi in these parts is a nightmare. Unlike virtually all other European countries, France just isn't geared up to the sale of Pay As You Go WiFi connections. The fall back position is that you then have to rely on free WiFi Hot Spots , and guess what, these hot spots are thin on the ground. Today for example we are staying outside a rather substantial village called Bram. And is there just one single Wifi post within the village. Answer. No!
This whole thing is very frustrating , particularly as both John Cockcroft and myself need to keep wired in for business reasons.
SUMMARY
This boat thing is good for say seven to ten days. Longer than that and in my opinion the whole experience would turn to custard
As to the question of comparing our three canal adventures over these last four years I would say that our ten day stint on the Saone River (by Dijon) back in 2008 would have to come out on top. Few locks (which we were able to operate with ease) and lots of bars and restaurants en route, in combination with great scenery.
The 2010 circuit of the greater Manchester area (The Cheshire Ring) was a pretty wild experience. Something like a hundred locks, some that were beasts to operate. Looooong tunnels that were great for the stress levels, scenery that was ...........interesting. On the upside the nightly pub life was fantastic.
This time around we have flash boat, all locks are operated by a full time Lock Keeper, so the whole experience is relatively painless. However what we miss are the nightly drinks and dinners in local,establishments. With the exception of Carcassonne all our overnight locations have been devoid of nightlife so we have been forced to eat in. That said, the Canal du Midi is a stunningly beautiful area.
If you want to experience this type of short holiday , I suggest you take a serious look at what LeBoat.com has to offer on the Saone River.
Cheers
Carcassonne. This city was certainly alive and kicking
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| The mighty floating palace!. Life could be worse |
Back in France , Carcassonne and the Canal du Midi
Well, we are getting down to the wire with our eight month escape from reality about to hit the skids
Twenty one days before we head off to Heathrow for the final time.
Both Julia and myself have mixed feelings about the thought of returning home. On the one hand it will be just great to catch up with children and friends however you know, we have been on a bit of a roll over here and we have got ourselves into the sort of lifestyle that we will sorely miss.
Enough of that
A few days back we (and friends John/Sue) flew out of Rome and onto Carcassonne for a couple nights stay in the Hotel Donjon, one of the few hotels located within the medieval walls of the old city sited atop a hill overlooking the city proper. What a great location . Lots to see, great bars and restaurants , and access to all activities is a mere stroll away from the hotel.
The walled city is a fairly weird place when you think about it. It's a bit like a French version of Disneyland. You know the score, heaps of tourists at every turn, eating and watering holes round every corner, tourists junk for sale in bulk, smiling happy people, and stunning scenery. A fantastic place for a two night stay. If you stayed any longer you would go a bit nutty.
Then we were off to Homps to pick up our boat for a seven day float along the Canal du Midi, up back through Carcassonne with the final destination of Castelnaudary .
Unlike previous canal trips (The Saone river near Dijon in 2008 and the Cheshire Ring around greater Manchester in 2010) this trip is like a stroll in the park. Every lock is manned by a permanent lock keeper so all our involvement is limited to that of spectators who simply have to hang onto ropes as the boat makes its way through all of the forty plus locks.
Back in both 2008 and 2010 we had to work like slaves on those boat trips as all locks had to be operated by the boat crew and let me tell you some of those locks were very dodgy. The other big plus on this particular trip is the complete absense of any tunnels, so no mor dramas like we had back in 2010.
Four days into this cruise and there is little to report. The only highlight to date has to be the antics of a middle aged Sydney couple who, having informed us that they were experienced sailors, have now spent the last three days impersonating a couple who have zero know how in respect to "things boating".
To date these guys have done a pretty good job at playing the fool. We must have traversed twenty locks with these guys and to date they have stuffed up at every turn. You would have thought they would have got the hang of things by now however they just don't seem to have the ability to learn from previous mistakes. The wife is a complete disaster. Her party piece is to lob the boats retaining ropes back into their boat just as the lock master releases a veritable torrent of water as he opens up the gates to raise the lock water level The husband is then forced to battle with the elements as he attempts to keep his boat under control. I would say that after seven days on this canal said couple will no longer be on speaking terms. Meanwhile the Alcorn/Cockcroft vessel sails serenely on into the sunset
A word about travelling with friends for any extended period. This can be a tricky deal. It's a fact that heaps of friendships have turned sour over trivial stuff that has gone down during trips. I have to say that both Julia and myself feel very luck yo have a couple of friends like John and Sue. Over the years we have travelled with these guys in Australia, Asia, the UK and France without so much as one minute of hassle. Great stuff
Next Monday (15/10) we are back to London for a final frantic seventeen days of bars, restaurants and concerts.
Then that's it. The party's over.
Wednesday, 3 October 2012
Ever wondered what they serve up for breakfast on the Amalfi Coast?
Wonder no more.
Breakfast line ups don't generally merit comment however the bog standard Amalfi breakfast has to be an exception.
First up are mountains of chunky sliced white loaves. No surprises there.
Up next are plates of cut tomatoes drenched in olive oil and scary sized slices of Mozzarella cheese. This is fairly challenging stuff.
And finally, down to the business end of the deal. Watermelon , melon and pineapple thrown together with a hot croissant and chocolate fudge cake all covered with caramel sauce and icing sugar.
Wash that down with endless cups of dodgy Cappuccino and you are set for the day.
It's not as bad as it sounds. You just have to accept that your stomach is going to spend the better part of a couple of hours figuring out how to attack the problem that you have presented for it.
Breakfast line ups don't generally merit comment however the bog standard Amalfi breakfast has to be an exception.
First up are mountains of chunky sliced white loaves. No surprises there.
Up next are plates of cut tomatoes drenched in olive oil and scary sized slices of Mozzarella cheese. This is fairly challenging stuff.
And finally, down to the business end of the deal. Watermelon , melon and pineapple thrown together with a hot croissant and chocolate fudge cake all covered with caramel sauce and icing sugar.
Wash that down with endless cups of dodgy Cappuccino and you are set for the day.
It's not as bad as it sounds. You just have to accept that your stomach is going to spend the better part of a couple of hours figuring out how to attack the problem that you have presented for it.
Tuesday, 2 October 2012
Come on Julia, you know you are best person to handle these Post Office types. Just give em' the old Kiwi charm
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| The Amalfi Post Ofiice. Don't let the exterior fool you for one minute. Trust me, there's mayhem awaiting you inside |
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| Aaah, the trusty ticket dispenser. This sucker has been taking training lessons from Hal , the computer who went hay wire in 2001 A Space Odyssey |
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| It's pointless to think for even a nano second that this ticket number bears any relationship to the expression sequential numbering. That process would be waaaay too easy |
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| Numbers that don't make sense . Non existent counters . Keep it rolling. We have lived in Europe for months. we are battle hardened Bring it on! |
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| That guy hiding behind is living proof that , that...........well, something! |
Have you got an hour to kill and wish to test your powers of endurance? Boy , have I just got the place for you!
Welcome to public service hell, aka, the Almafi Post office.
On the face of it the whole process shouldn't have been a big deal.
Julia had purchased a small cardboard box from the local Post Office, stuffed it full of whatever to send home by mail, however when she went to post same on Monday morning at the Pergine Valdarno, she was put off by the line of pensioners all awaiting their Monday cash hand outs from their friendly Post Office, so she decided to mail the box when we reached Amalfi.
The drama started the minute she walked through the front door. The deal is that there is a yellow ticket dispensing machine located near the entrance. You press the appropriate button (yellow for a mail related issue or green for all others matters) then you wait until your number pops up on an electronic board.
The problem here was that the machine had a mind of its own. Not only did this sucker pump out allocation numbers in totally random fashion , but also allocated these numbers to non existent counters .
Confusion reigned in abundance. Actually without putting too finer point on it, the scene that confronted Julia was one of total mayhem .
Then we get onto the three counter staff. Now this is a real Italian thing you have to get your head around. What you have to understand is that the number of staff bears no relation to the number of workers who are actually working. If there's half a dozen staff and only one actually serving the public, then that's it, end of story. There's simply no point getting bitter and twisted about this matter as there is nothing you can do about it.
Maybe thirty minutes on and Julia is finally getting served by an old guy who, 1) can't speak English, 2) doesn't have a clue what he's doing, 3) is a computer illiterate and 4) is more interested in sharpening what he thinks is a pencil (which in fact is a biro pen) rather than addressing the issue at hand.
Without a word of a lie it took this space cadet fully thirty minutes to weigh and price the box. At one stage I actually thought Julia was about to leap, over the counter and do the job herself.
I could just about see the steam coming out of her ears.
And when it was all said and done, this old guy hobbled out the front door and stuck our parcel directly into the pannier bag of the Post Office motorcycle.
It's just a pity that this particular bike was only making local deliveries.
You have to laugh.
Cheers
On the face of it the whole process shouldn't have been a big deal.
Julia had purchased a small cardboard box from the local Post Office, stuffed it full of whatever to send home by mail, however when she went to post same on Monday morning at the Pergine Valdarno, she was put off by the line of pensioners all awaiting their Monday cash hand outs from their friendly Post Office, so she decided to mail the box when we reached Amalfi.
The drama started the minute she walked through the front door. The deal is that there is a yellow ticket dispensing machine located near the entrance. You press the appropriate button (yellow for a mail related issue or green for all others matters) then you wait until your number pops up on an electronic board.
The problem here was that the machine had a mind of its own. Not only did this sucker pump out allocation numbers in totally random fashion , but also allocated these numbers to non existent counters .
Confusion reigned in abundance. Actually without putting too finer point on it, the scene that confronted Julia was one of total mayhem .
Then we get onto the three counter staff. Now this is a real Italian thing you have to get your head around. What you have to understand is that the number of staff bears no relation to the number of workers who are actually working. If there's half a dozen staff and only one actually serving the public, then that's it, end of story. There's simply no point getting bitter and twisted about this matter as there is nothing you can do about it.
Maybe thirty minutes on and Julia is finally getting served by an old guy who, 1) can't speak English, 2) doesn't have a clue what he's doing, 3) is a computer illiterate and 4) is more interested in sharpening what he thinks is a pencil (which in fact is a biro pen) rather than addressing the issue at hand.
Without a word of a lie it took this space cadet fully thirty minutes to weigh and price the box. At one stage I actually thought Julia was about to leap, over the counter and do the job herself.
I could just about see the steam coming out of her ears.
And when it was all said and done, this old guy hobbled out the front door and stuck our parcel directly into the pannier bag of the Post Office motorcycle.
It's just a pity that this particular bike was only making local deliveries.
You have to laugh.
Cheers
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