Seeing the World

It wasn’t looking good when Josephine cancelled our Airbnb arrangement.  She’d obviously thought long and hard about taking me in and made the decision to sell up instead!

Then I moved onto Rebekah.  Pool and hot tub round at her gaff so I volunteered my details and waited.  Guess what – she’s declined my booking because she’s moving house!  Probably a house swap with Josephine!

I scoured the site for more options.  I scoured multiple hotel booking sites too and realised that the city is going to be very full that week.

I identified the perfect Airbnb location too.  Only to see three recent reviews saying the host had cancelled at 24 hours notice.  There’s a situation that needs a contingency plan!   I think mine will be crying if that happens!

Then to the rescue come Sandy and Geoff.  Decent looking room.  Hospitable sounding home.  Using their spare room income to fund the good causes that appeal to them.  In some way that appeals to me too.  A bit further away from the Adelaide Oval than I’d like but God invented trams for such an occasion.

So my Oz adventure now looks like this:

Manchester to Helsinki.  Helsinki to Qatar.  Qatar to Sydney.

Three nights in Sydney staying with Ian, who I’ve known since the day I started work.  Then off to Brisbane for the first test.  A lovely hotel within fifteen minutes walk of the cricket ground and an offer from an exiled Oldham Athletic fan to join me at the cricket.

Next up will be the Great Barrier Reef.  Flying to Cairns, driving to Port Douglas and taking in crocodiles, forests and fish.  Another lovely apart-hotel where I can do a mid-point wash allowing me to keep the weight of my suitcase down.

Then back to Brisbane to connect onto Adelaide.  Another five days of cricket where hopefully the locals won’t take to over-aggressive bowling.  And finally Melbourne.  Catch up with another old mate, see Ramsey Street and wonder if there’s any more to the place then that!

Then back to Qatar.  I do need to organise visa, accommodation and trip round the city, all of which the airline claim to be free (but never answer the phone to confirm).  After twenty hours there it’s onto Helsinki and a dangerously short connection time to get back to Manchester.  Avios points set aside just in case I miss that flight!

Now, when do those cricket tickets go on sale?

When They Upgrade Your Twin Room to a Double!

One of these days I’m going to accidentally book me and Chris into a double room.  But so far, so good.  Such a disaster hasn’t yet happened.

Hilton have, however, just this morning confirmed that my “Twin Guest” room in London tomorrow night has been upgraded.  Which is nice.  The “King Deluxe” on the tenth floor less welcoming though.

Into panic mode and onto the web chat messaging system.  Natalia responded.  An image of a gorgeous Russian girl materialised in my mind.  She’s probably a former Soviet shot putter.  She tells me to check my reservation and tell her what it says as she can’t access things.  I tell her.  She says she can’t help and passes me on to Jutta.  I imagine a young and enthusiastic Indian chap who likes cricket.  He’s probably the good looking Russian girl in reality!

Jutta is amusing.  He makes a statement rather than asking a question, so I assume he’s aware of the conversation I’ve just had with Natalia.  Two minutes later I realise he’s not going to add to his statement and say “hi”.  He responds by telling me the hotel is fully booked.  I ask about twin rooms.  He can’t advise me and tells me to call the hotel.  Eventually I get the telephone number out if him.  Radical!

The hotel reservations lady is great.  Apparently a King Deluxe can be formatted to a twin with no issues at all.  Problem over.

Hopefully the night views of London are good, the free Gold Status breakfast is forthcoming and the Uber to Kingstonian’s stadium to watch the meaningless Wimbledon v Oldham game will be cheap!

My American Express Points Have Gone!

It has been a hectic morning.  Firstly I had to unpack the Montenegro bag and repack as my Northern Ireland bag.

Then submit my claim for €225 to American Express for being stupid enough to damage my Avis hire car on the road to Kotor.  My joy in discovering I could make this claim online became one of desperate frustration when an hour failed to complete the process.  Eventually I picked up the phone and in a remarkable customer service moment got through to one of those human being things immediately.  An experience I last enjoyed in 1987.

Then the horror.  My 32,000 Membership Reward Points with my AMEX posh card have been cancelled by a refund taking me below the spend threshold.  I now need to spend £800 on the plastic in four weeks to meet the deadline to get the 30,000 points which have been removed.

I scour through my travel plans for opportunities to cancel and rebook.  The first one appears in Chile and I spot a £30 saving at the same time – book the same hotel and then cancel the original booking that this replaces.  Alas, while the saving was real the ability to pay by AMEX wasn’t.  Nothing doing with the Milan options so my attention turned to Australia.

Win one was The Great Barrier Reef.  The same room is coming in £5 cheaper and they are now accepting AMEX.  A few presses of the buttons and I’m £200 closer to triggering those 30,000 points.

Next is Melbourne.  The price is only £3 cheaper but whereas I’d previously opted to pay in Aussie dollars at check out I’ve now paid up front in good old English £££s to get the spend onto the AMEX.

Only about £250 more needed.  I might squeeze in a short rail holiday in Scotland.  Need to decide sharpish!

The Budva Riviera

A few days of Montenegro ended with half a day in Budva. €40,000 buys you a half built holiday villa!

It’s a seaside town with a stony beach that was beginning to set itself up for a new tourist season. Half the bars and restaurants were closed, many enjoying drills putting in exciting new features like tables.

It’s also the setting for Daniel Craig’s first Bond film, Casino Royale.  And there are numerous casinos in the area.  I enjoyed driving through tunnels that have entertained a Bond car, only to be disappointed to discover that while they were set here they were filmed entirely in the Czech Republic.

The focus seems to be on Russians and Serbs but my English experience of ordering a latte at one place and a steak at another was positive. Indeed, the Montenegran steak speciality dish of cow stuffed with cheese and dead pig wrapped in streaky dead pig was rather tasty. It’ll send me to an early grave.

Given the damage I’d done to the wing mirror on my hire car I decided to get to the airport over three hours before my flight. The Avis man tutted, shook his head, “Mr Dave should have had the insurance like I said” and after a lot of pressing buttons issued me with a bill for €225.80.

I took all the reports and proofs needed and look forward to AMEX settling that claim and pinching a few quid for converting the payout to Sterling.

I wandered over to the Aer Montenegro desk to arrange my lounge access. A kurt lady sent me to international departures security. They said “Too early Manchester” and sent me to the coffee shop to spend €4.20 on a Pepsi. The waiter said “You fly Manchester?”. “Yes” I replied. “City or United?”. “Oldham Athletic”, I responded. That was the end of that conversation.

Two hours pre-flight I finished my hour old Pepsi and returned to security. Patted down by a bloke in jeans and T shirt. Drug swabbed by a large lady in jeans and jumper. Through I went to seek out the lounge. The smallest gate area I’ve ever seen in my life welcomed me. Seats. Duty free. No lounge.

I fought the wifi and eventually got a signal. Check the web site! I’d correctly gone to the Aer Montenegro desk. But the Priority Pass site says I should have gone through the Business Class security area. Not that I’d seen a sign for this. Not that I was travelling business class.

Ah well, ninety minutes of boredom surrounded by my fellow proles. At least the sketchy wifi held up. And I sniggered as the easy boarding customers were invited to stand up for half an hour before the doors opened.  Seriously,  they were made to queue for ages without moving for the privilege of sitting down first!  Me?  Walked straight on and got a row of exit seats to myself.  Heaven.

Farewell Montenegro. Beautiful place. I hope they don’t spoil you as they develop you. Even if they do need to sort out your roads!

I Can Sniff Again Like I Did Last Summer …

A few days ago a strange thing happened. I sniffed.

It was a reflex I’ve not been able to use for months. One of the Bell’s palsy effects that have, independently of the cancer diagnosis, made life a tad awkward.

I still have the permanently open right eye. My right lip can’t smile. And I recently went deaf in my right ear, apparently due to nerve inflammation linked to the palsy.

My nose has been subject to tiny bleeds that I’ve been unaware of and, when eating, tiny clear seepage that I’ve been more than aware of and totally unable to sniff up.  Pass the tissue!  Combined with congestion and an inability to blow my nose it’s been a nuisance.  All in all a bit rubbish.

But last week was exciting. I sniffed. I didn’t even realise I’d done it for a minute. But then it struck me and I sniffed again, like I did last summer. I sniffed again, like I did last year.

A little test and I realised that I could also blow my nose, albeit not as effectively as I’d want to.

I rushed to the mirror to test out the eye. No change. The smile. Still floppy. The ear. Still deaf (for some reason I tested that while looking in the mirror).

Vague hope of a complete resolution of the Bell’s palsy diminished. But a little bit of hope has materialised. The nosebleeds and seepages are less frequent. Maybe the first neural plug towards restoring my normal angelic facial features has been connected. Fingers crossed the rest will be in place soon.

Quick Hit Montenegro

I’ve got around five hours to kill tomorrow before an evening flight home.  My impression of this part of Montenegro is really positive.  The back part of the Bay of Kotor is stunningly beautiful and worth a couple of days of anybody’s time.  You won’t be lying on sunbed a but a relaxing meander around what is effectively a fjord can be fun.

While an Adriatic cruise might be your best bet, those flying into Tivat should hire a car.  And then immediately insist their partner drives.  The coast road is genuinely scary due to its width in places and I chose not to take on the mountain hairpins despite the promise of remarkable views.

Montenegran drivers take no prisoners either.  If a road is wide enough for exactly two cars and an inch they’ll go and expect you to do the same.  They don’t have indicators here either.  That said, I’m the one who damaged his wing mirror on a bin!  Pavements?  Don’t get silly!

Despite not being in the EU the country uses the Euro.  Despite lacking infrastructure in many ways most restaurants have wifi.  And the lack of development is charming in itself.  Despite having separated from Serbia over a decade ago the TV adverts display Serbian dinars as currency.

It’s been a short and sharp pleasure.  I’d have explored the mountains with more time and guts.  My money is on a €250 bill for that wing mirror.

The Intriguingly Named Lustica Coast

On entering Montenegro at the very basic Tivat airport the queues for passport control were adorned with sketch pictures of the Lustica Coast.  You can imagine images of blue seas, yachts and modern apartments.

In my head I allocated the thought of a visit to the bottom right of the map.  I spent yesterday exploring the top half of the map.

This morning I started slowly.  A cold night of interrupted sleep, not helped by a bird outside my window squeaking throughout the dark hours.  Feathered variety, I should add.

Eventually I shifted myself to the wing mirror damaged Citroen and headed towards Kotor, but this time swinging right on arrival to head straight back out of town towards a newly opened road tunnel that I’d read about online.

The tunnel is so new that it still has rock dust floating within and visibility was significantly inhibited for the duration.  Exiting the other side a few miles later I easily found the road to Lustica!  A peninsula that faces inwards to the beautiful Bay of Kotor and outwards to the Adriatic.

In truth I was disappointed.  It’s not that there aren’t great views, but the construction levels are quite high and the views just didn’t compare to the magnificence of the previous day and the outlook I get from my apatment’s garden.

I went.  I saw.  I liked.  But not enough to invest.  I left.  Avoiding the tunnel I topped up with fuel, saved from sticking unleaded into the diesel tank by a lovely petrol attendant.  I tipped him all my loose change and he seemed delighted with the extra 70c.

The main thoughts now are around what to do tomorrow.  I leave the apartment at 10am.  The airport is twenty minutes away by suicidal roadway and the flight leaves after 5pm.  Allowing for Avis damage assessment, security and lounge I reckon I’ve got five hours to kill.

How My Illness Has Turned Into an Inappropriate Sense of Entitlement

There’s a side to this illness that has created an instinct in me that I don’t really like.

Five years of free prescriptions (14% chance of seeing that expire), a disabled badge and queue jumping for scans, X-rays and blood tests at the hospital is appreciated. Along with free parking at Huddersfield Royal Infirmary.  But let’s be honest, while the cancer drugs are needed, I can afford my eye drops for the Bell’s palsy.

The problem is, I am beginning to expect special treatment in situations that don’t merit it.  Not only that, I’m tempted to demand it.

With the slow puncture in Bristol I wanted to play the cancer card when calling out the way AA. Chris counselled against it but a little instinct inside me says surely I should be more important than a pregnant woman alone in the middle of nowhere!

And I hate paying for parking when I’ve taken a disabled bay. After all, despite being financially secure it should be free for me while you lot have to pay, right? Well it is in some car parks and not others. The irony of the disabled person having to walk across the car park to read the sign that tells them the payment rules before returning to their car, sometimes to get the right change, isn’t lost on me.

In other words, I am now beginning to understand those customers of mine on disability benefits that used to have a hell of an attitude. I found it particularly annoying, especially when they often received tax free benefits that exceeded my net pay. And while I’m trying hard not to be the same (and certainly don’t seem to have the benefits package), it isn’t as easy as you’d think.

I am yet to play the cancer card effectively.  But it is tempting.  I do, however, still want to be a decent bloke!

Perast – Where They Bury Their Dead on an Island

After smashing my wing mirror into somebody’s roadside bin I pressed on to see the town of Kotor, wondering if hoards of angry metal dumpsters were pursuing me down the narrow road.

I was so taken with Kotor that I drove straight through without further investigation to discover a wider road with a line down the middle.  Alas, it soon became clear that Montenegran motorists haven’t actually discovered what the lines are for yet, especially if there’s a bend in the trail.

Eventually I arrived at the tiny town of Perast.  I knew this because my hostess had already told me about the two islands I could see in the bay.  Boats to one of them.  Dead people on the other.

I bought my fridge magnets for the kids here.  Half price!  Then enjoyed a coffee by the sea before handing over €5 for a boat trip to the church on the island without the corpses.  It’s a nice church.  But just a church all the same.  I’d have loved an ice cream but the souvenir shop wasn’t quite into that sort of thing.

I sat in a pleasant sun, admired what appeared to be a small military vessel go past and chuckled to myself at the ease at which aggressors would get able to trap it in the Bay of Kotor if needed.  After a few minutes I returned to the quaint town, enjoyed a chicken lunch at the same place that had served me my coffee and idled for an hour or so on their wifi pondering this beautiful haven.

And there is a paradox.  Everybody should see this place.  Even though the infrastructure is basically dreadful.  It’s like seeing civilisation as it should be, not as it’s become.  But to improve access and add accommodation around the Bay of Kotor would be to destroy it’s charm.

It’s rather beautiful just as it is.

The Joys of Driving Abroad