If you are like me you will love this place. What is like me? You might get a lot of answers to that depending on who you ask but I think I like the following:
a) I enjoy my luxuries which include air conditioning, a comfortable bed and food/drink when I want it.
b) I like accommodation which is safe and hassle free which is no longer that easy in the Caribbean.
c) People are important to me. I like them genuine and friendly rather than snooty or brash.
d) I am not overly active but enjoy sea sports and scenic comfortable beaches.
e) I enjoy my food but hate overly formal, pretentious and expensive restaurants.
f) Fun bars where you can relax and dance if you want is a bonus.
It is incredibly rare to get all these things in one place but Anguilla provided them all and more. It really is an exceptional island and I am amazed (but secretly relieved) that more people do not know about it. You ask most people in Britain about Anguilla and they will think you have pronounced Angola in central Africa badly! But there it is: this beautiful friendly island that is merely a 30 minute connection from the main British Caribbean holiday hub of Antigua.
We arrived from Antigua on 28th November 2011. The connection was great as you can avoid the chaos of arrival immigration as long as you remember to book checked bags through to Anguilla at UK check-in. If so you simply transfer across to the departure area on the right as you face immigration.
On arrival at the tiny airport in Anguilla you will obviously need to clear immigration. Remember two things, first, be sure you have got hold of and completed an arrivals card and secondly be carefully to write clearly. Very often LIAT Airways forget to give out these forms in advance so ask for them. Also immigration copy almost every last bit on the form into their computer so, if you have not written clearly, it takes ages. Trust me on this!
Once through immigration and customs you will probably need a taxi and there is a taxi controller right in front of you on the left. Taxis can be quite expensive due to their ‘sectional’ charging tariffs where, if you cross over a number of these geographic sections the price jumps. We decided not to pick up a car at the airport as even though it is a small island signs aren’t great and you could struggle first time in the dark. We hired a car which they delivered to the resort and left it at the airport when we departed. Driving is like the UK (on the left) but so are the steering wheels on the hire car!
We stayed at Meads Bay Villas which is within 20 minute drive (most places are) from the airport and we loved it. There are four villas in a zigzag line back from the beach itself. They are located between two small boutique hotels which, although unobtrusive provides added security to the location. We really did think twice about renting a villa in the Caribbean since hearing about a number of high profile incidents over recent times but I can say we felt completely safe here.
You can never rule out crime whether you are at home or on holiday. Nowhere is safe when you have people of any type around. All you can do is be sensible and part of that is to look closely at where you are planning to go. We found that the people in Anguilla all seem to know each other and understand how much they depend on tourism for their future. They want to keep their island safe so people keep coming and also there are not that many non Anguillans living there. From what I see most incidents on other islands are related to issues and people not currently active in Anguilla.
So what about these villas? Well they are well run and looked after by some exceptionally nice and helpful people. You only have to look up some of the reviews and they always recognise these folks. This matters as you really have to depend on them if something goes wrong. For example I was certain our bedroom aircon was faulty as there was a terrible buzzing coming from the wall.
Chris, the boss spent ages on his hands and knees, followed by heads down holes and walls but still no cure. No problem he assured me and called in an expert from across the islands. Still no solution until suddenly he asked me if there was anything in my suitcase leaning against the wall. We opened it and found my razor had switched itself on. I could have died but there were laughs all round and a total refusal to accept any payment for wasted time. Just a small example but I think an important one.
We settled in and spent 3 nights in villa 3. Two big bedrooms, two en-suite bathrooms, outside shower, fully equipped kitchen (better than home) and a comfortable lounge area with plasma cable TV. If we needed anything we asked and it was quickly delivered even if they had to go out and buy it. By the way they will do your initial food shopping for you so it is waiting when you arrive. As a result we were able to sip our own cold drinks and make an omelette soon after we arrived.
They also tidy your villa every day which includes loading the dishwasher, making the beds and putting out fresh beach and bathroom towels. The pool and pool deck were similarly maintained and they will do your washing and ironing at a fair price per load. Just like a hotel but with the added benefits of villa life. By the way the voltage is 110, the plugs are US two pin, robes are provided, as is a safe.
After 3 nights we moved to villa 2. All the villas are identical but we moved to be that bit closer to the see. On reflection a waste of time and the slightly higher rental as they are all so close that we only reduced less than 30 seconds walking time! They are clever the way they have landscaped and positioned these villas to ensure privacy and soundproofing from each other. The move was seamless as you go to lunch and when you get back everything has transferred to the self same location in the new villa.
We tended to spend most days at our villa and beach except for the occasional outings to other beaches and locations. The beach at Meads Bay is terrific with a large expanse of powder white sand and small breaking waves. The island is blessed with superb beaches and the other favourite one of ours was Rendezvous Bay where the Cuisinart Hotel is located. Meads Bay villas provide plenty of shades and sun loungers on their stretch of the beach.
There is not a huge amount to see on Anguilla apart from great beaches and views. If you want an action packed holiday or if you have active children you might have a problem. For example jet skis are banned which adds to the peace but may annoy a few. Most other water sports are there and they have one pretty good golf course although it is overpriced in my opinion.
Another amazing thing about Anguilla is the dining choice available. The quality is enormously high and you can get almost anything you like. It will not cost a fortune either and I am staggered that a place as remote and small as Anguilla can attract such culinary skills. The local lobster is delicious and we even found one small new restaurant (On Da Rocks) where you could buy them for $5 each!
We could split our favourite restaurants into two types. The ones you went to purely to eat and the others where you spend the whole evening drinking and dancing. Our favourite eatery was ‘Sand Bar’ which is located in the area called Sandy Ground where most of the other restaurants are. We also enjoyed ‘Straw Hat’ which was located right next to Meads Bay Villas, in fact a 4 minute walk on a moonlit beach.
For fun we went most nights to ‘Ripples’ at Sandy Ground. It is a bar restaurant and it does the best steak and mash as well as fish and chips I have tasted anywhere. The bar section gets pretty lively sometimes but all very good fun. The British Navy goes in there when visiting port and the bar is full of great memorabilia. It really is a place you can go in alone and come out with new friends.
If you want lots of good local music and food there is ‘The Pump House’ at night and ‘Johno’s’ for Sunday afternoon Jazz. Both are at Sandy Ground. These are my personal favourites but, as I said earlier, there are many more that are equally popular including the more expensive which we did not go to like ‘Jacala’ and ‘Blanchards’, both at Meads Bay.
Our two weeks rushed by and the day of departure loomed. Again it was totally relaxed and hassle free. Somebody was going to move into our villa after we left but we were invited to take our time as the staff were willing to fit their preparation around us. The car hire man popped around for the first and last time, swiped my card and suggested I took the car to the airport and left it there. Give the keys to anyone working there he said grinning. We ended up hugging and kissing the great Meads Bay villa staff with genuine warmth and headed home.
Our particular connection at Antigua was not too good. In fact it was going to be a 6 hour wait at the airport which frankly I thought was going to be a nightmare. In my view Antigua airport is a disgrace. Considering the high density of flights passing through it at certain times the facilities are at best primitive.
To help those that have to endure an Antigua transfer I have a couple of suggestions. You will need a fully completed landing card even if you are transferring. You should have told the check in staff in Anguilla that you are connecting and although they will not check your bags through they will mark them with a transit label. This helps the other end.
When you arrive in Antigua you will usually be faced with an enormous queue of hot tired people waiting at immigration. Instead of joining them go over to the left (as you face them) of the desks and there should be a much less busy one for transferring passengers. When through there you have arrived at customs. Again, if you look on the right you should see a smaller queue for transfers.
Now at this point we did something a bit different. We could not face 6 hours at the not so tender mercy of Antigua airport so we used a fantastic, reasonably new service called ‘Outbound Lounge’www.outboundlounge.com. This is a special facility located the other side of the airport that has its own excellent facility. It is a large single story building that has a luxury lounge, sleeping room, showers, outside tables with sun loungers and everything else you could possibly wish for.
A fabulous place to pass time but it does cost and you currently have to be a British Airways passenger (any class) to use it. While you are in the lounge they check you in, sort out your baggage and bring immigration and security over to you. They then drive you directly across the runway to the aircraft steps. A grand way to finish a holiday! I cannot recommend them enough.
Wednesday 28 December 2011
Friday 23 December 2011
A CHRISTMAS MESSAGE
To all my readers: Yes I know you are out there because I read the stats!
No, you are not the best at giving me feedback so please have a go in 2012 as I really miss what you have to say and it keeps me writing.
Christmas Wishes: Oh American Airlines will you please grow up and
stop being so self destructive.
Can members of the travel supply chain think of better
and possibly easier ways of making bigger profits than over the
bleeding bodies of their partners and customers.
Finally? Have a great Christmas and New Year and I look forward
To trying to keep you interested and amused next year.
One last ‘story? I flew to New York last weekend and found myself in Club Class and directly facing one of the most attractive woman I have ever seen. We got talking and I asked her what she was doing.
She explained that she was going to speak at a very large womens society the next day about the sexes and planned to debunk a number of fallacies that people had about certain nationalities. “Give me some examples” I asked and she did.
It is not true that French men make the best lovers. It is the Greeks.
The most well endowed men are not African Americans they are native Indian Americans.
Finally the men most likely to talk women into sleeping with them are not Italian they are the Irish.
“Fascinating” I said. “What is your name” she asked.
“Tonto Papadopolous” I replied. “But my friends call me Paddy”
No, you are not the best at giving me feedback so please have a go in 2012 as I really miss what you have to say and it keeps me writing.
Christmas Wishes: Oh American Airlines will you please grow up and
stop being so self destructive.
Can members of the travel supply chain think of better
and possibly easier ways of making bigger profits than over the
bleeding bodies of their partners and customers.
Finally? Have a great Christmas and New Year and I look forward
To trying to keep you interested and amused next year.
One last ‘story? I flew to New York last weekend and found myself in Club Class and directly facing one of the most attractive woman I have ever seen. We got talking and I asked her what she was doing.
She explained that she was going to speak at a very large womens society the next day about the sexes and planned to debunk a number of fallacies that people had about certain nationalities. “Give me some examples” I asked and she did.
It is not true that French men make the best lovers. It is the Greeks.
The most well endowed men are not African Americans they are native Indian Americans.
Finally the men most likely to talk women into sleeping with them are not Italian they are the Irish.
“Fascinating” I said. “What is your name” she asked.
“Tonto Papadopolous” I replied. “But my friends call me Paddy”
Thursday 10 November 2011
A Blogger in Majorca Part 4
The main thing for me about this holiday was that it was in a villa not a hotel. I have done it on short stays twice but never a fortnight and I wondered whether the novelty would wear off… and it did. Yes, the novelty of it went but got replaced with far better feelings of relaxation and peaceful familiarity than I have ever felt in a hotel where I usually start climbing the walls by day ten.
To understand why I am now a villa convert one needs to know why me, and possibly others often feel let down when staying in hotels. To me the best word to explain my disappointment is freedom, or lack of it. In a hotel I feel too regulated. You end up eating what they want, when they want at a frequently unacceptable and unjustifiable price. Once you are there you operate under their rules alongside their guests using their dress code.
You cannot really get up when you want, have a light snack of your own choosing and pick your own environment to spend the day. For example you could go to the pool and not find a quiet, comfortable, shaded spot. The pool menu will serve portions big enough (and costly enough) for three. So you go back to the room and find housekeeping there. Some people even smuggle out food from breakfast purely because it gives them the kind of things they want to eat at lunch.
Later you decide to have a relaxed meal but can your wife really go down without washing, drying and straightening her hair? And what about the other guests who seem to think the whole thing is a fashion contest. Can you really face another full set meal of something you would never bother with at home? Can you do this at breakfast, lunch and dinner for 14 days and nights? We all seem to but I reckon the first hotel to come up with the alternatives people want will make a killing.
Right, that’s now off my chest. After all those years of holidays where I thought that if I ate another lunchtime shared club sandwich I would kill myself or the waiter…or both. I found a well planned villa holiday can save me this grief albeit at a cost. The cost? Well you better be sure it is the right villa for you or you have had it for the duration.
You have to buy your own food but the consolation is that you can eat what you want, when you want it and in the right portions. OK, you have to pay for the staples like pepper, salt, oils etc but it is all far cheaper than hotel dining and you can stock up on drinks, crisps, and nibbles etc at a fraction of the price. When you don’t want to cook? Well you go out!
Villa concerns for me were mostly not problematic. You have to have a car. You need to seriously consider security especially in some places. You need good easy means of contact with the owner or their agent in case of problems and you have to take location and the proximity of neighbours into account. I cannot imagine what it would be like to move into a place with screamers and loud music lovers over the fence. We did our research and we were fine…thankfully!
OK, there can be some niggles. For example there is a growing habit in Majorca of owners putting the air conditioning on a timer so you can only use it at night. They conveniently assume that everyone will either keep the doors and windows open all day or go out. So the sales pitch says air conditioning when it should say ‘part’ air conditioning. I think if you are paying for aircon you should get aircon when YOU want it rather than reduce the owner’s electricity bill. Others may be more eco minded than me. I found a little visit to the fuse box controlled solved my problem!
So, the headquarters of my Majorcan ‘paradise’ was the Villa Son Rotger in the hills 5kms from Pollensa. Our days panned out like this: Get up at around 9.30 a.m. , open the shutters and pad downstairs to pick up cereal, fresh fruit and tea and bring up to the balcony overlooking the sea. Then agonise over whether to have yet another fry up or salad. Then morning swim, sunbathe and read Kindle under the sun umbrella. Lunch is large or little depending on the fry-up decision. Afternoon? Repeat morning or possibly tour the area.
The evenings were great, particularly as they were warm and starry. A barbecue? A swim? An evening in front of the T.V watching UK programmes? Mostly we went out. The only unwelcome nocturnal noise was the neighbour’s dog who partook in bouts of barking. We solved this by bribing him with cat treats we had brought in from the UK in case there were local moggies!
As I said earlier there were not many neighbours. We had orchards and a farmhouse on one side. We always smiled and waived at the owners as they picked fruit from trees next to our driveway. I am not sure what they thought of us after we got caught ‘sampling’ their plums. It was made worse when I strode naked onto our balcony doing a mighty stretch only to lock eyes with grandma sitting on her tractor holding plums in her hands. She just looked, shrugged, muttered and drove away. Ah well.
So the end of the holiday came and unfortunately we had to vacate the villa by 10 a.m. which is pretty normal but a pain when your flight leaves in the evening. I had booked a day room at the Hilton near Palma airport. It is a lovely hotel but we ended up being reminded why we had chosen a villa. I simply could not have imagined staying there a fortnight.
The hotel was great, its staff were mainly great, but its guests were not. The pool was crowded, noisy and full of people tucking in tummies, running fingers through hair and indulging badly behaved kids. They had the usual snack menu that was only available through certain times and starred ‘club sandwich’. Yuk! The room was a snip at £160 (excluding food/drink) for six hours!
Finally we got to the airport. The car return was very efficient and we went to check in only to be asked for the £100 excess baggage for the extra case. I told them I was not charged on the way out so they said I had to pay them now for both! To be fair the check in was manned by Iberia Airlines staff and they called in the Thomson representative who agreed to ‘let us off this time’. A reason she gave was I had been polite when most people yell at her. Worth remembering as airline staff are the last people you should yell at, especially when they have you by the ba**s.
The flight this time was on a modern Thomson aircraft which was clean, comfortable and on time. The crew were courteous and by then I was used to paying for everything on board. The family we saw on the way out were just in front again and clearly. Dad, with the tattoos, looked like he was missing his ‘Forever Karen’ and mum and daughter looked like they wished he had stayed with her. ‘Did you have a nice time’ I asked the girl. Daddy says I can’t talk to you’ she replied morosely.
So there you have it. The villa life was paradise to us. Thomson was far better than expected and Majorca was everything we wanted it to be. And spoilt little me? I learned that first class travel and 5 star hotels is not necessary for holiday ‘paradise’
I hope you have been both informed and entertained by this part 4 report.
To understand why I am now a villa convert one needs to know why me, and possibly others often feel let down when staying in hotels. To me the best word to explain my disappointment is freedom, or lack of it. In a hotel I feel too regulated. You end up eating what they want, when they want at a frequently unacceptable and unjustifiable price. Once you are there you operate under their rules alongside their guests using their dress code.
You cannot really get up when you want, have a light snack of your own choosing and pick your own environment to spend the day. For example you could go to the pool and not find a quiet, comfortable, shaded spot. The pool menu will serve portions big enough (and costly enough) for three. So you go back to the room and find housekeeping there. Some people even smuggle out food from breakfast purely because it gives them the kind of things they want to eat at lunch.
Later you decide to have a relaxed meal but can your wife really go down without washing, drying and straightening her hair? And what about the other guests who seem to think the whole thing is a fashion contest. Can you really face another full set meal of something you would never bother with at home? Can you do this at breakfast, lunch and dinner for 14 days and nights? We all seem to but I reckon the first hotel to come up with the alternatives people want will make a killing.
Right, that’s now off my chest. After all those years of holidays where I thought that if I ate another lunchtime shared club sandwich I would kill myself or the waiter…or both. I found a well planned villa holiday can save me this grief albeit at a cost. The cost? Well you better be sure it is the right villa for you or you have had it for the duration.
You have to buy your own food but the consolation is that you can eat what you want, when you want it and in the right portions. OK, you have to pay for the staples like pepper, salt, oils etc but it is all far cheaper than hotel dining and you can stock up on drinks, crisps, and nibbles etc at a fraction of the price. When you don’t want to cook? Well you go out!
Villa concerns for me were mostly not problematic. You have to have a car. You need to seriously consider security especially in some places. You need good easy means of contact with the owner or their agent in case of problems and you have to take location and the proximity of neighbours into account. I cannot imagine what it would be like to move into a place with screamers and loud music lovers over the fence. We did our research and we were fine…thankfully!
OK, there can be some niggles. For example there is a growing habit in Majorca of owners putting the air conditioning on a timer so you can only use it at night. They conveniently assume that everyone will either keep the doors and windows open all day or go out. So the sales pitch says air conditioning when it should say ‘part’ air conditioning. I think if you are paying for aircon you should get aircon when YOU want it rather than reduce the owner’s electricity bill. Others may be more eco minded than me. I found a little visit to the fuse box controlled solved my problem!
So, the headquarters of my Majorcan ‘paradise’ was the Villa Son Rotger in the hills 5kms from Pollensa. Our days panned out like this: Get up at around 9.30 a.m. , open the shutters and pad downstairs to pick up cereal, fresh fruit and tea and bring up to the balcony overlooking the sea. Then agonise over whether to have yet another fry up or salad. Then morning swim, sunbathe and read Kindle under the sun umbrella. Lunch is large or little depending on the fry-up decision. Afternoon? Repeat morning or possibly tour the area.
The evenings were great, particularly as they were warm and starry. A barbecue? A swim? An evening in front of the T.V watching UK programmes? Mostly we went out. The only unwelcome nocturnal noise was the neighbour’s dog who partook in bouts of barking. We solved this by bribing him with cat treats we had brought in from the UK in case there were local moggies!
As I said earlier there were not many neighbours. We had orchards and a farmhouse on one side. We always smiled and waived at the owners as they picked fruit from trees next to our driveway. I am not sure what they thought of us after we got caught ‘sampling’ their plums. It was made worse when I strode naked onto our balcony doing a mighty stretch only to lock eyes with grandma sitting on her tractor holding plums in her hands. She just looked, shrugged, muttered and drove away. Ah well.
So the end of the holiday came and unfortunately we had to vacate the villa by 10 a.m. which is pretty normal but a pain when your flight leaves in the evening. I had booked a day room at the Hilton near Palma airport. It is a lovely hotel but we ended up being reminded why we had chosen a villa. I simply could not have imagined staying there a fortnight.
The hotel was great, its staff were mainly great, but its guests were not. The pool was crowded, noisy and full of people tucking in tummies, running fingers through hair and indulging badly behaved kids. They had the usual snack menu that was only available through certain times and starred ‘club sandwich’. Yuk! The room was a snip at £160 (excluding food/drink) for six hours!
Finally we got to the airport. The car return was very efficient and we went to check in only to be asked for the £100 excess baggage for the extra case. I told them I was not charged on the way out so they said I had to pay them now for both! To be fair the check in was manned by Iberia Airlines staff and they called in the Thomson representative who agreed to ‘let us off this time’. A reason she gave was I had been polite when most people yell at her. Worth remembering as airline staff are the last people you should yell at, especially when they have you by the ba**s.
The flight this time was on a modern Thomson aircraft which was clean, comfortable and on time. The crew were courteous and by then I was used to paying for everything on board. The family we saw on the way out were just in front again and clearly. Dad, with the tattoos, looked like he was missing his ‘Forever Karen’ and mum and daughter looked like they wished he had stayed with her. ‘Did you have a nice time’ I asked the girl. Daddy says I can’t talk to you’ she replied morosely.
So there you have it. The villa life was paradise to us. Thomson was far better than expected and Majorca was everything we wanted it to be. And spoilt little me? I learned that first class travel and 5 star hotels is not necessary for holiday ‘paradise’
I hope you have been both informed and entertained by this part 4 report.
Thursday 3 November 2011
A Blogger in Majorca Part 3 of 4
Check 'archives' on right for Part 1 and 2
So we finally arrived at the villa which was to be our home for two weeks. “Don’t think I am going to be chained to the cooker all the time” said Judith as I tried to turn our small car into a smaller driveway before the electric gates closed. ‘No darling’ I replied thinking about 14 days of fried food, barbecues and cosy home suppers.
Now we get to the ‘paradise’ bit The villa was beautiful and I would recommend it to anyone. We have used Villa Select before and they have never let us down so far. It had three bedrooms, three bathrooms and a bright and spacious living area.
The design was modern and the facilities were all there from the large infinity pool to the sunny barbecue area to the large balconies with views over the bay of Alcudia. There was a modern halogen hob, new looking cooker and washing machine and an excellent fridge freezer. You will be able to make great meals here I said to Judith as she gave me an icy stare. ‘No, let’s go out instead’ she snapped.
That first night we drove the short distance to Alcudia where we promptly got lost. ‘Left here’ she shouted after we passed the turning for the second time that day. We eventually ended up in the old town where we seemed to be the only tourists and came face to face with an eighteen inch penis. It was attached to an eight foot statue of a naked violinist that was ‘mounted’ in the forecourt of a small bar. Naturally we could not resist dining there.
We sat adjacent to the statue but we could not escape from its member as the setting sun threw its shadow right across our table. Rather unnerving when you are eating a ham baguette I can assure you. I placed the pepper and salt at one end and it looked quite lifelike! After being stared at by the locals, drinking beer and watching the sunset we drove home. Apparently our naked stone friend was called Javier San Pedro but I am not sure if the scale used was lifelike or wistful thinking.
We went out touring in the car a few of the days and found some really nice places that make mockery of the concept that Majorca is all crowded beaches, nightclubs and tourist dominated. There are such places for those that want them but they are mainly in the south, except for perhaps Port de Alcudia.
A great place to go is Port de Solier on the west coast. The drive is quite hair raising over mountains and around many tight bends but it is worth it for the views. We ended up behind a very nervous driver who panicked and nearly stopped at every bend and then shot off afterwards to stop you overtaking. He met his match when he met a bus driving psychopath on a particularly bad loop. They ended up bonnet to bonnet with neither able nor willing to give way. We nipped past whilst they screamed at each other.
We then ended up behind another bus which was aptly named ‘no frills bus tours’. An inspiring name and the people aboard looked wretched. By the look of it no frills meant no air conditioning, no shock absorbers and no windows that opened. It was dull rust red in colour (no paint) and the driver was wearing a vest (no shirt). Even Michael O’Leary would think that this bus had less frills than his Ryanair planes.
We went to a lot of the usual places like Formentor where you can climb down from little car parks to gorgeous little beaches and Cala San Vicente which is a very pretty little resort in a small bay that has some very nice cafes.
When we ate out we either drove in to Pollensa old town or Port de Pollensa depending on what mood we were in. If we wanted pretty and quaint it was the former where you could sit in the main square, eat good food and watch people who were probably watching you. Everybody eyes each other up on holiday; it is part of the ‘fun’. I think they particularly appreciated it when I got drunk with a Brazilian waiter who demonstrated (repeatedly) how to make an authentic caiprinha.
Port de Pollensa is at the seaside and full of cafes lined along the front. This place is great fun on any evening and you would be amazed by some of the sights that walk past. In June the local people are out in force too so it is quite a scramble of tourists and residents of all sizes, ages and dress sense as well as the local dogs which get taken walkies in the evenings. The latter provided great entertainment by escaping, tangling leads, fighting and occasionally defecating while you are trying to eat your paella.
Picking up dog litter seems an alien concept to the Majorcans. Very often they do not notice what their dogs are doing as one lady with a chihuahua demonstrated. It was on one of those extending leads so it got ahead of its owner and squatted down by a palm tree in an orderly manner. Sadly for him and everyone else his owner failed to notice and the next minute Fido was projected through the air when the lead tightened. It continued to ‘go’ as it flew dropping bombs like something out of the dam busters film.
What can you do? You cannot pick it up and you cannot tell ever passerby about it. So we decided to wait and watch while vast numbers of people came from either side all converging on these brown bombs. We felt so helpless but it was compelling viewing.Eventually there was a bulls-eye by a local on a bike followed by a glancing blow from a lady in heels. We really did feel guilty!
Food at both these locations is of a reasonably high standard taking all into account although it is not particularly cheap. Wine costs far less than the UK and Majorcan grapes are quite acceptable. Food in the supermarkets is pretty extensive and you will find many international brands. The bigger the supermarket the bigger the range and the cheaper the price but that is the same the world over. You can use credit cards at most places but only if you can show ID like a passport or driving license.
More about villa life and the homeward journey in my final blog on this subject out next week.
So we finally arrived at the villa which was to be our home for two weeks. “Don’t think I am going to be chained to the cooker all the time” said Judith as I tried to turn our small car into a smaller driveway before the electric gates closed. ‘No darling’ I replied thinking about 14 days of fried food, barbecues and cosy home suppers.
Now we get to the ‘paradise’ bit The villa was beautiful and I would recommend it to anyone. We have used Villa Select before and they have never let us down so far. It had three bedrooms, three bathrooms and a bright and spacious living area.
The design was modern and the facilities were all there from the large infinity pool to the sunny barbecue area to the large balconies with views over the bay of Alcudia. There was a modern halogen hob, new looking cooker and washing machine and an excellent fridge freezer. You will be able to make great meals here I said to Judith as she gave me an icy stare. ‘No, let’s go out instead’ she snapped.
That first night we drove the short distance to Alcudia where we promptly got lost. ‘Left here’ she shouted after we passed the turning for the second time that day. We eventually ended up in the old town where we seemed to be the only tourists and came face to face with an eighteen inch penis. It was attached to an eight foot statue of a naked violinist that was ‘mounted’ in the forecourt of a small bar. Naturally we could not resist dining there.
We sat adjacent to the statue but we could not escape from its member as the setting sun threw its shadow right across our table. Rather unnerving when you are eating a ham baguette I can assure you. I placed the pepper and salt at one end and it looked quite lifelike! After being stared at by the locals, drinking beer and watching the sunset we drove home. Apparently our naked stone friend was called Javier San Pedro but I am not sure if the scale used was lifelike or wistful thinking.
We went out touring in the car a few of the days and found some really nice places that make mockery of the concept that Majorca is all crowded beaches, nightclubs and tourist dominated. There are such places for those that want them but they are mainly in the south, except for perhaps Port de Alcudia.
A great place to go is Port de Solier on the west coast. The drive is quite hair raising over mountains and around many tight bends but it is worth it for the views. We ended up behind a very nervous driver who panicked and nearly stopped at every bend and then shot off afterwards to stop you overtaking. He met his match when he met a bus driving psychopath on a particularly bad loop. They ended up bonnet to bonnet with neither able nor willing to give way. We nipped past whilst they screamed at each other.
We then ended up behind another bus which was aptly named ‘no frills bus tours’. An inspiring name and the people aboard looked wretched. By the look of it no frills meant no air conditioning, no shock absorbers and no windows that opened. It was dull rust red in colour (no paint) and the driver was wearing a vest (no shirt). Even Michael O’Leary would think that this bus had less frills than his Ryanair planes.
We went to a lot of the usual places like Formentor where you can climb down from little car parks to gorgeous little beaches and Cala San Vicente which is a very pretty little resort in a small bay that has some very nice cafes.
When we ate out we either drove in to Pollensa old town or Port de Pollensa depending on what mood we were in. If we wanted pretty and quaint it was the former where you could sit in the main square, eat good food and watch people who were probably watching you. Everybody eyes each other up on holiday; it is part of the ‘fun’. I think they particularly appreciated it when I got drunk with a Brazilian waiter who demonstrated (repeatedly) how to make an authentic caiprinha.
Port de Pollensa is at the seaside and full of cafes lined along the front. This place is great fun on any evening and you would be amazed by some of the sights that walk past. In June the local people are out in force too so it is quite a scramble of tourists and residents of all sizes, ages and dress sense as well as the local dogs which get taken walkies in the evenings. The latter provided great entertainment by escaping, tangling leads, fighting and occasionally defecating while you are trying to eat your paella.
Picking up dog litter seems an alien concept to the Majorcans. Very often they do not notice what their dogs are doing as one lady with a chihuahua demonstrated. It was on one of those extending leads so it got ahead of its owner and squatted down by a palm tree in an orderly manner. Sadly for him and everyone else his owner failed to notice and the next minute Fido was projected through the air when the lead tightened. It continued to ‘go’ as it flew dropping bombs like something out of the dam busters film.
What can you do? You cannot pick it up and you cannot tell ever passerby about it. So we decided to wait and watch while vast numbers of people came from either side all converging on these brown bombs. We felt so helpless but it was compelling viewing.Eventually there was a bulls-eye by a local on a bike followed by a glancing blow from a lady in heels. We really did feel guilty!
Food at both these locations is of a reasonably high standard taking all into account although it is not particularly cheap. Wine costs far less than the UK and Majorcan grapes are quite acceptable. Food in the supermarkets is pretty extensive and you will find many international brands. The bigger the supermarket the bigger the range and the cheaper the price but that is the same the world over. You can use credit cards at most places but only if you can show ID like a passport or driving license.
More about villa life and the homeward journey in my final blog on this subject out next week.
Thursday 27 October 2011
A Blogger in Majorca - Part 2 of 4
Ok, where was I? Oh yes, we were airborne and flying serenely to our holiday isle. We were getting slightly sizzled on champagne and considerably nauseous over the chocolate. My chunky neighbour had an itch and the guy behind seemed to be suffering from cramp judging by the number of times his leg jerked into my seat back.
I tried to focus on the entertainment system but the overhead screens were poor and the programme poorer. I watched in silence as you could only buy (not rent) headsets and nobody said before the flight you could bring your own. Funny that! At least I had the little girl in front to ‘amuse’ me as she lolled over her seat back and pulled faces. Are you a monster she asked? I am not sure I replied. Yes you are she said as the faces continued.
Her dad was a shaven head brute of a man in an athletic vest. He was covered in tattoos. He had ‘True’ and ‘Love’ across his knuckles, wrestling dragons, anchors and mermaids around his neck and back. All along one arm he had ‘Karen Forever’ which was rather strange as we later found out his wife next to him was called Dawn. He leaned over his seat and glared at me as though I was a pervert and said ‘Hanna (again not Karen), don’t talk to that man. Happy days I thought.
The plane touched down without further incident and I had to reflect on how painless it was. I had avoided DVT and sipped champagne which is a good combination. There was no queue to speak of at immigration and our bags popped up last as usual. Some kind soul in the baggage area had snipped my BA Executive Club labels in half but that was the only damage.
So all we had to do now was collect our car and drive to our villa in the northern part of the island near Pollensa and 55 minutes away. We used a company called 'Centauro' and I would recommend them. I found it best not to book the company that Thomson recommends as everybody else does it and the queue at their desk was horrendous.
They are located on the airport perimeter road and you get to them by their transfer bus. It should have been very easy except their printed directions to the bus stop had been written by someone facing customs not coming out of it; hence we wandered off in the opposite direction. Once this got sorted we found the lane we had to stand by but no ‘Centauro’ sign as there wasn’t one. I found waving and leaping in front of their vehicle had the desired effect
We got to their facility and were issued with the necessary contract and guides very quickly. Within less than 10 minutes we were sitting in our ‘violent blue’ Fiesta that groaned under the weight of three large suitcases and us. Why three large cases? Because I am a packaholic. All those years of travel and I still over-pack. Once I wrapped a large beach umbrella in bin liners and took it to Mauritius in case there was not enough shade for our young daughter!
This time I was slightly better and only packed double clothes, half a chemist shop, cling film, Marmite and a pair of swimming trunks for each day. I had however forgotten all my underpants and charging units for Ipod, camera (which went flat) and Kindle. Judith’s eyes rolled as she saw all the silly stuff falling out at the other end.
So we hit the road. Actually it nearly hit us as I judged my first roundabout rather inaccurately. Judith had the map and I had my short driving temper. Turn left she shrieked about twenty yards after the correct turn-off. Relations were strained but eventually we found the right road. By the way they have changed the motorway speed limit to 110 kph. I remind you as the Centauro maps are rather ancient (as are others) and still tell you it is 120 kph. Also be aware that most Majorcan coach drivers are suicidal psychopaths.
The motorways and roads in general are smooth and very well maintained. I am glad that Spain uses our huge EC subsidies to ensure we can glide to our destinations. The signage is also pretty good. Parking can be tricky especially in the busy months and around the old towns but places are very clearly marked. I would recommend driving to even the nervous except for the westerly coast road which is a bit of a switchback and sometimes inhabited by those bus driving psychopaths I mentioned.
The main part of our drive to the villa was uneventful. Having got on the main motorway to the north we simply cruised for 45 minutes until it became a two lane highway. The directions were spot on until this point but then we arrived at the road/track where our villa was located. Things then became confused as we drove in the fading light down a single lane track with dead ends, dodgy signage and blind corners. Having narrowly missed two chickens, a pig and the neighbours Daschund we arrived at the Villa Son Rotger.
How we got on with the villa, the shops, the resorts, cafes and restaurants will be in my next spellbinding blog.
I tried to focus on the entertainment system but the overhead screens were poor and the programme poorer. I watched in silence as you could only buy (not rent) headsets and nobody said before the flight you could bring your own. Funny that! At least I had the little girl in front to ‘amuse’ me as she lolled over her seat back and pulled faces. Are you a monster she asked? I am not sure I replied. Yes you are she said as the faces continued.
Her dad was a shaven head brute of a man in an athletic vest. He was covered in tattoos. He had ‘True’ and ‘Love’ across his knuckles, wrestling dragons, anchors and mermaids around his neck and back. All along one arm he had ‘Karen Forever’ which was rather strange as we later found out his wife next to him was called Dawn. He leaned over his seat and glared at me as though I was a pervert and said ‘Hanna (again not Karen), don’t talk to that man. Happy days I thought.
The plane touched down without further incident and I had to reflect on how painless it was. I had avoided DVT and sipped champagne which is a good combination. There was no queue to speak of at immigration and our bags popped up last as usual. Some kind soul in the baggage area had snipped my BA Executive Club labels in half but that was the only damage.
So all we had to do now was collect our car and drive to our villa in the northern part of the island near Pollensa and 55 minutes away. We used a company called 'Centauro' and I would recommend them. I found it best not to book the company that Thomson recommends as everybody else does it and the queue at their desk was horrendous.
They are located on the airport perimeter road and you get to them by their transfer bus. It should have been very easy except their printed directions to the bus stop had been written by someone facing customs not coming out of it; hence we wandered off in the opposite direction. Once this got sorted we found the lane we had to stand by but no ‘Centauro’ sign as there wasn’t one. I found waving and leaping in front of their vehicle had the desired effect
We got to their facility and were issued with the necessary contract and guides very quickly. Within less than 10 minutes we were sitting in our ‘violent blue’ Fiesta that groaned under the weight of three large suitcases and us. Why three large cases? Because I am a packaholic. All those years of travel and I still over-pack. Once I wrapped a large beach umbrella in bin liners and took it to Mauritius in case there was not enough shade for our young daughter!
This time I was slightly better and only packed double clothes, half a chemist shop, cling film, Marmite and a pair of swimming trunks for each day. I had however forgotten all my underpants and charging units for Ipod, camera (which went flat) and Kindle. Judith’s eyes rolled as she saw all the silly stuff falling out at the other end.
So we hit the road. Actually it nearly hit us as I judged my first roundabout rather inaccurately. Judith had the map and I had my short driving temper. Turn left she shrieked about twenty yards after the correct turn-off. Relations were strained but eventually we found the right road. By the way they have changed the motorway speed limit to 110 kph. I remind you as the Centauro maps are rather ancient (as are others) and still tell you it is 120 kph. Also be aware that most Majorcan coach drivers are suicidal psychopaths.
The motorways and roads in general are smooth and very well maintained. I am glad that Spain uses our huge EC subsidies to ensure we can glide to our destinations. The signage is also pretty good. Parking can be tricky especially in the busy months and around the old towns but places are very clearly marked. I would recommend driving to even the nervous except for the westerly coast road which is a bit of a switchback and sometimes inhabited by those bus driving psychopaths I mentioned.
The main part of our drive to the villa was uneventful. Having got on the main motorway to the north we simply cruised for 45 minutes until it became a two lane highway. The directions were spot on until this point but then we arrived at the road/track where our villa was located. Things then became confused as we drove in the fading light down a single lane track with dead ends, dodgy signage and blind corners. Having narrowly missed two chickens, a pig and the neighbours Daschund we arrived at the Villa Son Rotger.
How we got on with the villa, the shops, the resorts, cafes and restaurants will be in my next spellbinding blog.
Thursday 20 October 2011
A Blogger in Majorca Part 1 of 4
I must admit I have never thought the words paradise and Majorca went together and maybe they don’t entirely. However I was surprised how close they got when I spent two weeks there very recently.
I am a self confessed travel snob who has been spoilt silly by first class travel and holiday destinations like The Maldives, Mustique, Mauritius and suchlike. But this time we wanted somewhere closer to home, cheaper and less hassle and we came up with Majorca which is just two hours flight away and sunny. So off I went online and booked Thompson flights, local car hire and a villa through Villa Select.
I was filled with a sense of foreboding as I found out more about the place. You have to get there by low cost airlines or holiday charters (what no special desks and premium cabins?). Then somebody in the pub told me about Palma Nova and Magaluf with their rowdy pubs, English cafes, nightclubs, big plasma sports screens and everything else I have not enjoyed since I was in my twenties. What have I done I thought as our departure date got nearer.
Finally the day came and off we went to Gatwick. We arrived at North Terminal and walked past our usual un-crowded BA Executive Club check in desk and into the people maelstrom called the Thomson check in area. It looked like pandemonium with milling crowds of young party people, families and old gits like me and there were hundreds of them. Not only that but they were checking in all flights at the same row of desks and my heart sank.
Using my vast travel experience I concluded this simply could not work…but it did. In no time we were herded by a team of Thomson staff into a huge ‘conga’ line of a queue that zigzagged at least eight times backwards and forwards across the whole width of the departure area. This will take years I snarled to Judith as we fitted in behind a group of young school leaver party girls and in front of a couple juggling 3 children, two bottles of water and an array of buggies. It took only 20 minutes. After much shuffling, bumping and tight turning we were at the front where we got politely manhandled by a couple of shouting marshals who pointed to one of the desks
. Check-in was seamless apart from one big but. I wanted extra baggage above our one 20kg case each allowance so I prepaid for an extra bag online by adding an extra £30 to our bill. I soon found out that yes, you can have an extra case but no, you could not have any extra weight. What is all that about? What is the point in paying for two bags if you can only carry stuff for one in them? Weird! Anyway they tried to charge me £100 in excess baggage and it took all my selling skills to talk them out of it.
We walked past our usual empty priority security channel and joined the rear of the busy general entrance and, to my surprise we were through in no time. OK I had to dress again having taken off my shoes, belt, jacket, watch etc but that would have happened anyway these days. It was unfortunate my trousers dropped to my knees as I walked through the metal detector but at least they could see I had no obvious secret weapon. I hope I have decent underwear I thought as I bent down to pick them up.
The thought of hanging around the main departures area was too much for my spoilt sensibilities so I had prepaid for the use of the No.1. Lounge when I was booking our Gatwick North Terminal valet parking. It cost £40 for the two of us and it was bright, airy and not overcrowded. For the £20 a head we could have lunch, watch a film, and drink what we wanted for up to 3 hours. When you think that on the aircraft the meal alone costs £12 each it is a cost effective way of lunching and drinking beforehand in comfort whilst getting away from the crowds.
Flight time loomed so off we went to the gate. The only trouble was that the advertised gate was incorrect. In fact I do not think it existed. This resulted in much milling around where the passengers reckoned it should be. Eventually a member of Thomson staff beckoned from a nearby desk (which said ‘closed’ above it) and off we strode.
Why we all do it I do not know but as soon as a flight is called for boarding it is something like the ‘charge of the light brigade’. The plane won’t go without us but we all make that undignified dash. Some people start queuing at the gate an hour beforehand. I can only think it is because everyone wants to be sure there is still room to stow their bags before others from surrounding seats chuck their stuff in first.
Finally we were on board this rather old looking Airbus with rather old looking and very small tight-packed seats. I had paid (£25) for extra leg room and got it in the emergency exit row. Unfortunately a rather enormous person had the same idea and squeezed in next to us. What would have happened in an emergency is anyone’s guess but folk would have had to scale the man mountain first to get out.
To my surprise the flight was really good. I had to get used to paying for everything but I could not fault it. If I had been anywhere in the rest of the plane I might have got claustrophobia but my little row was great even with the big guy alongside. Again I had pre-ordered champagne and chocolates (for £25) and a full size bottle arrived with no fuss. This is not at all bad I thought and certainly rivalled many a short-haul schedule flight I have been on in the past.
So we sat back, relaxed and waited for our arrival in Palma, What would the airport, car and villa be like? Would the island be one big hen party/stag tour? Would I live on a diet of egg and chips washed down with “tea like mum makes it”. If you can bear the tension stay tuned for the next thrilling episode on a computer screen near you soon!
I am a self confessed travel snob who has been spoilt silly by first class travel and holiday destinations like The Maldives, Mustique, Mauritius and suchlike. But this time we wanted somewhere closer to home, cheaper and less hassle and we came up with Majorca which is just two hours flight away and sunny. So off I went online and booked Thompson flights, local car hire and a villa through Villa Select.
I was filled with a sense of foreboding as I found out more about the place. You have to get there by low cost airlines or holiday charters (what no special desks and premium cabins?). Then somebody in the pub told me about Palma Nova and Magaluf with their rowdy pubs, English cafes, nightclubs, big plasma sports screens and everything else I have not enjoyed since I was in my twenties. What have I done I thought as our departure date got nearer.
Finally the day came and off we went to Gatwick. We arrived at North Terminal and walked past our usual un-crowded BA Executive Club check in desk and into the people maelstrom called the Thomson check in area. It looked like pandemonium with milling crowds of young party people, families and old gits like me and there were hundreds of them. Not only that but they were checking in all flights at the same row of desks and my heart sank.
Using my vast travel experience I concluded this simply could not work…but it did. In no time we were herded by a team of Thomson staff into a huge ‘conga’ line of a queue that zigzagged at least eight times backwards and forwards across the whole width of the departure area. This will take years I snarled to Judith as we fitted in behind a group of young school leaver party girls and in front of a couple juggling 3 children, two bottles of water and an array of buggies. It took only 20 minutes. After much shuffling, bumping and tight turning we were at the front where we got politely manhandled by a couple of shouting marshals who pointed to one of the desks
. Check-in was seamless apart from one big but. I wanted extra baggage above our one 20kg case each allowance so I prepaid for an extra bag online by adding an extra £30 to our bill. I soon found out that yes, you can have an extra case but no, you could not have any extra weight. What is all that about? What is the point in paying for two bags if you can only carry stuff for one in them? Weird! Anyway they tried to charge me £100 in excess baggage and it took all my selling skills to talk them out of it.
We walked past our usual empty priority security channel and joined the rear of the busy general entrance and, to my surprise we were through in no time. OK I had to dress again having taken off my shoes, belt, jacket, watch etc but that would have happened anyway these days. It was unfortunate my trousers dropped to my knees as I walked through the metal detector but at least they could see I had no obvious secret weapon. I hope I have decent underwear I thought as I bent down to pick them up.
The thought of hanging around the main departures area was too much for my spoilt sensibilities so I had prepaid for the use of the No.1. Lounge when I was booking our Gatwick North Terminal valet parking. It cost £40 for the two of us and it was bright, airy and not overcrowded. For the £20 a head we could have lunch, watch a film, and drink what we wanted for up to 3 hours. When you think that on the aircraft the meal alone costs £12 each it is a cost effective way of lunching and drinking beforehand in comfort whilst getting away from the crowds.
Flight time loomed so off we went to the gate. The only trouble was that the advertised gate was incorrect. In fact I do not think it existed. This resulted in much milling around where the passengers reckoned it should be. Eventually a member of Thomson staff beckoned from a nearby desk (which said ‘closed’ above it) and off we strode.
Why we all do it I do not know but as soon as a flight is called for boarding it is something like the ‘charge of the light brigade’. The plane won’t go without us but we all make that undignified dash. Some people start queuing at the gate an hour beforehand. I can only think it is because everyone wants to be sure there is still room to stow their bags before others from surrounding seats chuck their stuff in first.
Finally we were on board this rather old looking Airbus with rather old looking and very small tight-packed seats. I had paid (£25) for extra leg room and got it in the emergency exit row. Unfortunately a rather enormous person had the same idea and squeezed in next to us. What would have happened in an emergency is anyone’s guess but folk would have had to scale the man mountain first to get out.
To my surprise the flight was really good. I had to get used to paying for everything but I could not fault it. If I had been anywhere in the rest of the plane I might have got claustrophobia but my little row was great even with the big guy alongside. Again I had pre-ordered champagne and chocolates (for £25) and a full size bottle arrived with no fuss. This is not at all bad I thought and certainly rivalled many a short-haul schedule flight I have been on in the past.
So we sat back, relaxed and waited for our arrival in Palma, What would the airport, car and villa be like? Would the island be one big hen party/stag tour? Would I live on a diet of egg and chips washed down with “tea like mum makes it”. If you can bear the tension stay tuned for the next thrilling episode on a computer screen near you soon!
A Blogger in The Maldives
I went on holiday to The Maldives quite recently and had such a great time I thought I would report on how to get there from the UK. and what to expect. I have now stayed at Cocoa Island, Mirihi, Conrad Rangali and Lily Beach so if anyone wants the lowdown on any of these places let me know.
I usually try to inject some humour in these blogs and I did have a few moments of amusement while out there. The last island I stayed at was Lily Beach which is an all inclusive resort and hence it could be a bit lively in the evening. I was minding my own business in the bar one night when this very large gentleman from Frankfurt sat down next to me. Actually he plunged more than sat and the contents of his scotch glass flew over his shoulder into a plant pot.
Not to be outdone he lurched off the seat, went to the bar for another, staggered back, aimed his bottom at the seat and plunged down again. Another double scotch shot over his shoulder into the pot. I think he lost about four out of five of his whiskies until, on his final plunge he too shot back into the plant pot. The next morning on the way to breakfast I stopped at the plant pot. The palm growing out of it had snapped and the leaves had turned yellow.
The only other excitement of note was when a Korean couple ran their pedalo aground on the island reef. They did not seem too worried as they started taking pictures of each other being rescued. And of course there was a lady from London who threatened to report me because I killed an ant that was walking up the side of my Tiger beer!
Anyway, back to my report:
So what is your idea of a holiday paradise and more importantly, does it exist outside your imagination in this modern well travelled world? You may want somewhere sunny and warm. A desert island, but not too deserted and not so primitive you cannot enjoy your creature comforts. You will want to be safe, relaxed and be lazy or active as and when the mood takes you. To enjoy nature at its most spectacular but still sleep in clean white sheets listening to the water lapping around and wondering if should have eaten so much lobster at the moonlit barbecue.
Well this year I lived my dream. I found the Maldives. Obviously I had heard of them before but I never once thought they could possibly be as good as the hype. 40 years in travel had taught me that you can never totally believe the brochures, websites and superlatives from other people each with their individual ideas on perfection. Besides, I thought, the Maldives were hard to get to and so very far from civilisation. So let me tell you how an old travel hand got it wrong.
Firstly I discovered that British Airways had started flying non stop to Male, the capital. You can also go direct on a Thomson charter or using a through flight via Colombo on Srilankan. If you are willing to change aircraft there are excellent connections via Dubai or Doha on Emirates or Qatar Airways respectively. These connections are very slick and usually quite painless. Some people even split their holidays with a week in Dubai and then again in the Maldives. I chose direct with BA as I got a good price and a non stop flight is more likely to get you there quickly and with your baggage.
The next obstacle in my mind was getting to my chosen island. You see the international flight lands at an airport island next to the capital Male and you still need to go either by air or speedboat to your resort. Trouble and stress I immediately thought. Wrong. They operate like a well oiled machine. As soon as you pass through customs the resort team is waiting. You either walk across the road to a waiting speed launch or onto an air-conditioned bus to whisk you and your bags to the seaplane terminal 5 minutes away.
This final short transit transforms from a chore to a plus point of the holiday. Your sea plane is usually waiting there for you. If there is any delay then most of the resorts have lounges that look over the lagoon where you can watch the coming and going. The planes are loads of fun. Yes, they are a bit noisy and yes they can sometimes get a bit hot but this is more than made up for by the thrill of take off and landing and the breathtaking views of the coral atolls you fly over. A magical experience and one to be anticipated not dreaded.
One thing to remember though is that the weight allowance on these planes is 20 kilos regardless of what you may have been allowed on your incoming international flight. Excess baggage charges are quite reasonable but bear in mind there are aircraft weight constraints which might mean they could hold a bag back for the next flight. It is always a good thing to have one bag which you keep close containing immediate essentials just in case.
The longest flight is usually around 40 minutes but more often under the half hour. You land on the sheltered side of the resort and the seaplane taxis up to a floating pontoon. From there you board the resort launch for the very short hop to the reception pier. Usually by this time you would have been given iced towels and bottled water and an enthusiastic greeting from the local staff. And yes, they really do seem to mean it as these are small islands and I think they genuinely look forward to seeing new faces.
There are numerous resorts with all types of accommodation and meal plans. You can stay in beach villas or my favourite which are built over water on stilts. Some are basic but clean and others have their own spa, pool and decking. The food and drink has to be imported (as do the chefs) and is of the highest quality and range. Most ingredients are from Australia except for the fish which is mainly locally caught using traditional methods.
So there you are, sitting on your decking and gazing out at your very own picture postcard Desert Island and aquarium but with everything you need available if you want it. Everywhere I went my mobile, blackberry and computer worked if I wanted them. I once phoned into a company conference call when sitting on a lounger under a sun umbrella with a cold beer and a staff member next to me cleaning my sun glasses! By now you have ditched your shoes and probably not wear any again until you leave.
The Maldives is a wonderful place and it did not disappoint me once. It is safe, welcoming scenically stunning and full of warm spirited friendly people. My only regret was going home. If you ever want a once in a lifetime trip go to the Maldives…except I suspect you will try to go again and again afterwards. Once you have swum with whale sharks and manta rays you become hooked
I usually try to inject some humour in these blogs and I did have a few moments of amusement while out there. The last island I stayed at was Lily Beach which is an all inclusive resort and hence it could be a bit lively in the evening. I was minding my own business in the bar one night when this very large gentleman from Frankfurt sat down next to me. Actually he plunged more than sat and the contents of his scotch glass flew over his shoulder into a plant pot.
Not to be outdone he lurched off the seat, went to the bar for another, staggered back, aimed his bottom at the seat and plunged down again. Another double scotch shot over his shoulder into the pot. I think he lost about four out of five of his whiskies until, on his final plunge he too shot back into the plant pot. The next morning on the way to breakfast I stopped at the plant pot. The palm growing out of it had snapped and the leaves had turned yellow.
The only other excitement of note was when a Korean couple ran their pedalo aground on the island reef. They did not seem too worried as they started taking pictures of each other being rescued. And of course there was a lady from London who threatened to report me because I killed an ant that was walking up the side of my Tiger beer!
Anyway, back to my report:
So what is your idea of a holiday paradise and more importantly, does it exist outside your imagination in this modern well travelled world? You may want somewhere sunny and warm. A desert island, but not too deserted and not so primitive you cannot enjoy your creature comforts. You will want to be safe, relaxed and be lazy or active as and when the mood takes you. To enjoy nature at its most spectacular but still sleep in clean white sheets listening to the water lapping around and wondering if should have eaten so much lobster at the moonlit barbecue.
Well this year I lived my dream. I found the Maldives. Obviously I had heard of them before but I never once thought they could possibly be as good as the hype. 40 years in travel had taught me that you can never totally believe the brochures, websites and superlatives from other people each with their individual ideas on perfection. Besides, I thought, the Maldives were hard to get to and so very far from civilisation. So let me tell you how an old travel hand got it wrong.
Firstly I discovered that British Airways had started flying non stop to Male, the capital. You can also go direct on a Thomson charter or using a through flight via Colombo on Srilankan. If you are willing to change aircraft there are excellent connections via Dubai or Doha on Emirates or Qatar Airways respectively. These connections are very slick and usually quite painless. Some people even split their holidays with a week in Dubai and then again in the Maldives. I chose direct with BA as I got a good price and a non stop flight is more likely to get you there quickly and with your baggage.
The next obstacle in my mind was getting to my chosen island. You see the international flight lands at an airport island next to the capital Male and you still need to go either by air or speedboat to your resort. Trouble and stress I immediately thought. Wrong. They operate like a well oiled machine. As soon as you pass through customs the resort team is waiting. You either walk across the road to a waiting speed launch or onto an air-conditioned bus to whisk you and your bags to the seaplane terminal 5 minutes away.
This final short transit transforms from a chore to a plus point of the holiday. Your sea plane is usually waiting there for you. If there is any delay then most of the resorts have lounges that look over the lagoon where you can watch the coming and going. The planes are loads of fun. Yes, they are a bit noisy and yes they can sometimes get a bit hot but this is more than made up for by the thrill of take off and landing and the breathtaking views of the coral atolls you fly over. A magical experience and one to be anticipated not dreaded.
One thing to remember though is that the weight allowance on these planes is 20 kilos regardless of what you may have been allowed on your incoming international flight. Excess baggage charges are quite reasonable but bear in mind there are aircraft weight constraints which might mean they could hold a bag back for the next flight. It is always a good thing to have one bag which you keep close containing immediate essentials just in case.
The longest flight is usually around 40 minutes but more often under the half hour. You land on the sheltered side of the resort and the seaplane taxis up to a floating pontoon. From there you board the resort launch for the very short hop to the reception pier. Usually by this time you would have been given iced towels and bottled water and an enthusiastic greeting from the local staff. And yes, they really do seem to mean it as these are small islands and I think they genuinely look forward to seeing new faces.
There are numerous resorts with all types of accommodation and meal plans. You can stay in beach villas or my favourite which are built over water on stilts. Some are basic but clean and others have their own spa, pool and decking. The food and drink has to be imported (as do the chefs) and is of the highest quality and range. Most ingredients are from Australia except for the fish which is mainly locally caught using traditional methods.
So there you are, sitting on your decking and gazing out at your very own picture postcard Desert Island and aquarium but with everything you need available if you want it. Everywhere I went my mobile, blackberry and computer worked if I wanted them. I once phoned into a company conference call when sitting on a lounger under a sun umbrella with a cold beer and a staff member next to me cleaning my sun glasses! By now you have ditched your shoes and probably not wear any again until you leave.
The Maldives is a wonderful place and it did not disappoint me once. It is safe, welcoming scenically stunning and full of warm spirited friendly people. My only regret was going home. If you ever want a once in a lifetime trip go to the Maldives…except I suspect you will try to go again and again afterwards. Once you have swum with whale sharks and manta rays you become hooked
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