Greece

Way back in the mists of time when I barely had a single grey hair on my head, I made my one and only trip to Greece. It’s a country I’ve often thought of going back to but for some  strange reason haven’t. If ever I do, I’d certainly trawl the car hire compare sites and hire a set of wheels. 

While most travellers set off for one of the numerous Greek islands, the mainland is well worth considering, and is where this particular holiday of mine started. More specifically, we set off for Athens, a vast sprawling city which, from the steep hill that accommodates the Acropolis, presents itself as an enormous carpet of overcrowded dwellings, stretching out as far as the eye can see. Being penniless students, my cousin and another friend with whom I made the journey found ourselves staying in the centre of town in a humble bed without breakfast establishment with the unpretentious name ‘John’s Place.’   This was, in fact, the place belonging to John, a rather gruff but likeable old man who clearly decided whether he had vacancies by looking you up and down. Fortunately, he liked the look of us, but  in retrospect, it may have been my cousin’s friend, a young and not unattractive young lady who John took a shine to. 

I remember the three of us searching for a restaurant in town on our arrival and being beckoned by one restaurateur. “Come see my kitchen,” he insisted. So we traipsed into said kitchen where he very proudly made exaggerated gestures towards his fairly unimpressive ovens that looked as if they’d seen better days. But his natural charm and enthusiasm got the better of us. And here we parked ourselves and sampled that great Greek staple, Greek salad with feta cheese. Other than this, my memory of Athens is a little sketchy.

From Athens we travelled south to the quite stunningly beautiful hilly landscape of the Peloponnese, stopping over at the ancient city of Sparta, famed for its fearsome warriors and its rivalry with Athens. The ancient city was raised by Visigoths in 396 AD, but much of the remains can be viewed today. The modern town was built in 1834 and occupies part of the ancient site near the Eurotas River.

From Sparta we made the long treck involving several trains including a very narrow gauge railway to the area known as the Meteora. This region is home to one of the largest and most important complexes of Eastern Orthodox monasteries. There are six of them in total, each perching precariously on the very top of an enormous sandstone pillar, of which there are many. The landscape is something out of a surreal Dali composition. Studies suggest that these remarkable pinnacles were formed 60 million years ago during the Tertiary period. And several of the monasteries can only be accessed by a rather long and sturdy rope. Needless to say, we didn’t try it. The whole region is listed as one of the UNESCO World Heritage sites. Come here and take a look for yourself. It really has to be seen to be believed.

Alex Pearl is a freelance copywriter and is the author of ‘Sleeping with the Blackbirds.’

http://alexpearlmini.carbonmade.com  http://sleepingwiththeblackbirds.co.uk

Morgins, Switzerland

A little while back, some close friends suggested we use their holiday chalet in Switzerland, as it wasn’t being let outside the skiing season and was obviously not being used by anyone else. So not being ones to look a gift horse in the mouth, we immediately took them up on their very kind offer, and wasted little time in going online in search of a hire car. After all, car rental comparison is now so easy with a PC. How on earth did we ever manage before?

Having not driven an environmentally friendly car before, now, I thought, would be an ideal time to try one. So I plumped for the Toyota Prius T3. This is the latest model from the Toyota stable. And I have to admit that this car is an absolute joy to drive. I guess the excellent Swiss roads from Geneva airport helped. But this car feels very smooth and its blend of petrol engine and electric motor works seamlessly in town where the silent battery powered running is very impressive.

Besides the comfortable drive (the kids fell asleep in the back), this car is incredibly clean. Thanks in part to skinnier wheels, it emits 89g of CO2 per km. And according to the AA, the only other car to do better than this is the Smart 42 CDI, but then that’s tiny by comparison.

We stopped off en-route at one of the motorway services, and had a very good meal in the smart dining area. It’s not something you’d ever experience at a motorway service station in the UK. But then, this is Switzerland. And I have to say that you certainly feel better for breathing all that Swiss air.

Morgins is a small development of Swiss chalets and is presumably pretty busy during the skiing season. The ski lifts take you up to the mountains in no more than a few minutes. We did this one fine morning ourselves only to find that you couldn’t see further than your own nose at the top due to mist or clouds or both.

If you love walking, which we do, Morgins is a perfectly good place from which to do some really lovely walks. But if you’re not the walking type, you may find yourself at a loose end if you don’t have a set of wheels. With a car, you can comfortably go and visit places like Evian, which is well worth the visit or Lausanne with its elegant promenade and excellent Olympics museum.  If you don’t mind the journey, Mont Blanc is a fabulous day trip. Take the narrow gauge railway up and then hop on the cable car to the glacier. You won’t be disappointed.

Alternatively, if you don’t fancy driving for hours, pop across the border to Chatel and check out the market. The fruit, vegetables and flowers sold here are fabulous and far cheaper than anything you’ll find in Switzerland. And if you like chateaus, pop next door to Aigle where you’ll discover the very lovely fairy tale turrets of Chateau d’Aigle.

Alex Pearl is a freelance copywriter and author of ‘Sleeping with the Blackbirds’.

http://sleepingwiththeblackbirds.co.uk         http://alexpearlmini.carbonmade.com

Chicago is my kind of town

Advertising is a funny old business. I should know, I’ve been employed as a copywriter for more years than I’d care to remember. But one of the perks, if you happen to work for a large international agency, is the opportunity to occasionally work abroad.

Not so long ago I took a trip at the last minute to Chicago. Our Creative Director’s PA who was frighteningly efficient managed to compare flights online and find an amazing deal for my working partner and myself to fly American Airlines the next morning, first thing. Better still, when the following morning dawned, and my colleague and I shuffled, bleary-eyed to the check-in desk at Heathrow, we were, for some unfathomable reason, upgraded from Business to First Class. So the pair of us in our tee shirts and jeans traipsed over to the First Class Departure Lounge to take our place among the dapper suited businessmen.

It was a good start to what turned out to be a thoroughly enjoyable business trip. This was largely down to the fact that we hadn’t been asked to the Chicago office to produce any creative work. Instead we had been invited to take part in an advertising awards scheme. Let me explain: advertising agencies are obsessed with winning industry awards to demonstrate to potential clients and the world at large, how brilliantly clever they are at selling stuff in a creative and intelligent way.

Now, as it happens, this rather large global agency for whom I worked (and I won’t name names) didn’t have a terribly good track record in this department, so not to be outdone, some bright spark in the New York office had suggested the idea of creating an awards scheme just for the agency’s offices around the world. This way the agency could award itself the awards it so desperately craved. Brilliant.

So there we were, locked in a room with representatives from New York, Chicago, Paris, Milan, Barcelona and Helsinki, deliberating over a bunch of ads and direct mail pieces which had been submitted by all the offices in the network in the hope of winning one of these fabulous awards. I might add here that the awards themselves had been created at great expense and did look rather splendid.

The very good news, however, was that judging would only take place in the morning, and following lunch, we’d be free to explore Chicago at our leisure before flying back home.

As a result, we set off for the Willis Tower (formerly known as the Sears Tower). From its 103^rd floor you can walk around its Skydeck, 1,353 feet up, and take in the most spectacular views of this majestic city of glass and steel set against the backdrop of the vast Lake Michigan, and the surrounding areas of Illinois, Indiana and Michigan.

Back at street level we headed for the famous Marshall Fields department store (now Macy’s). I’m not a keen shopper but this building is well worth a visit. The store can trace its heritage back to1880 and this lovely building was completed in 1906. On the top floor there is an impressive and rather touching plaque proudly displaying the names of all employees who had completed 50 years loyal service. The list is remarkably long.

As for those advertising awards, I remember very little indeed.

Alex Pearl is a freelance copywriter and author of ‘Sleeping with the Blackbirds’.

http://sleepingwiththeblackbirds.co.uk         http://alexpearlmini.carbonmade.com

Oaxaca, Mexico

Back in the days when I was a carefree single bloke, I was invited by my American cousin living in New York to join her on a luxury yacht sailing to the island of Mustique in the Caribbean. It was all apparently part of a publicity drive for a luxury holiday company, and yes, you’ve guessed it, my cousin was in PR and this was one of her clients. The opportunity was too good to miss, so before you could blink, I had started to compare car hire deals operating from Kennedy Airport  and was on the next plane to the Big Apple. 


Of course, the whole thing was too good to be true. By the time I turned up at my cousin’s apartment in Queens, she greeted me with a long face. The whole thing was off, for us at least. “Those frigging press guys are taking priority over us,” she said as if it was just a minor hiccup.  “But hey, don’t worry,” she said cheerfully, “we can always go to Mexico; the Mexico Tourist Board is one of my clients.” And that, to cut a rather long story short, is precisely what we did.

We flew to Mexico City and from there took another internal flight on Mexicana Airlines to a place I’d never heard of before. Spelt Oaxaca (and pronounced Wuharka), this is the capital city of the large state that bears the same name.

The flight on Mexicana Airlines was an experience in itself. For a start, the plane seemed to be flying below the clouds so you could see the landscape below unfold beneath you for the entire flight. And if you wanted any refreshments, well there was fresh water and a rather stale hunk of bread with something that may have had a vague resemblance to cheese.

The state of Oaxaca is located in the south of Mexico, bordered by the states of Puebla, Veracruz, Chiapas and Guerrero, with the Pacific Ocean to the south.

From the airport, my cousin hailed a cab that looked as if it had been in this world longer than the pair of us put together, and asked the driver in Spanish to take us to the hotel she’d booked us into. “We’re only staying here for two nights,” she declared. And with that, the rust bucket of a car lurched forward and made its way to the Hotel El Presidente. The name has since changed to the Camino Real.

From the dusty streets, you step from one world into another that couldn’t be more different if it tried. In a previous existence the hotel was the convent of Santa Catalina and was built in 1576 as a grand colonial property. It’s a stunningly beautiful place with countless internal squares, faded frescoes, cloisters and courtyards – all beautifully tended with neatly trimmed shrubs, patches of lawn and purple and pink riots of bougainvillea. And in this haven, little birds can be seen darting here and there among the foliage.

We had two separate rooms on the ground floor (there are only two floors) which were vast and both had their own bathrooms and little private courtyards. I had never stayed anywhere like it, and haven’t ever since.

So I’d urge you, if ever visiting Oaxaca to make your way to this remarkable hotel, even if it’s just to have a coffee in one of its many charming cloisters. And whatever you do, don’t miss the market or the archaeological site at Monte Alban, both of which are fascinating.

Alex Pearl is a freelance copywriter and author of ‘Sleeping with the Blackbirds’.

http://sleepingwiththeblackbirds.co.uk/         http://alexpearlmini.carbonmade.com/

Bordeaux

Last year we decided to do a holiday in France. The advantages of doing so are two-fold. A) It’s relatively near and B) the food’s generally pretty amazing. So I went online in search of cheap car hire and decided to head en famille to the city of Bordeaux via Luton airport.

The city carries the moniker La Belle Au Bois (Sleeping Beauty) which is a little baffling. Beautiful it unquestionably is, but sleeping it most certainly is not. Indeed, since the year 2000 and its mayor, ex-Prime Minister, Alain Juppe, started to pedestrianise this elegant city, restore its faded grandeur and introduce a highly efficient transport system, the place barely goes to sleep.

It is the capital of the Aquitaine region of France, lying in the south west corner and on the left bank of the River Garonne, near the Atlantic coast. It’s also an animated university town with a busy port. But it’s best known, of course, as the centre of the wine trade.

On arriving in our little hatch-back, we found our way to our reasonably priced hotel with free car parking not too far from the city centre, and from here ventured out on foot. For gastronomes and those who like to indulge in a spot of retail therapy, this place scores in spades. This majestic city noted for its fine 18^th century facades is also home to some of the world’s finest wines which are grown surprisingly close to the city centre, and the vineyards themselves stretch for several miles beyond.

We enjoyed mooching around the city’s old town which is a maze of endless narrow streets and enticing shops, some with art nouveau features. The Quartier Saint-Michael with its lovely church and bustling market that takes place every Monday and Saturday morning is a good place to head for if, like us, you have a thing about markets. The French, of course, do markets better than most, and this one with its exotic offerings from North Africa was no exception.

Once you feel you’ve done enough of the city, there are countless places to head for if you have a set of wheels. We chose to seek out Bayonne, the mediaeval city that is the capital of the Basque region with its magnificent cathedral and chic riverside boulevards. For over 500 years Bayonne has been famed for its fine chocolate. Beware chocoholics, this could be an expensive though thoroughly enjoyable trip, particularly when you have children in tow. The place is also known for its cured ham seasoned with peppers and of all things, walking-sticks (makilas).

We spent much of our time thereafter walking in the lush region of Landes, a flat forested area that runs along the coast just below the Bordeaux vineyards all the way to Bayonne, and is liberally sprinkled with pretty villages of half timbered houses, attractive resorts like Biscarrosse and Hossegor, and wonderful white sandy beaches, which were perfect for entertaining the kids while we plonked ourselves down with the papers and a good bottle of the local grape juice.

Alex Pearl is a freelance copywriter and author of ‘Sleeping with the Blackbirds’.

http://sleepingwiththeblackbirds.co.uk/         http://alexpearlmini.carbonmade.com/

The Algarve

A few years ago, having checked out those car hire comparison  sites to get a good deal on four wheels in Portugal, we decided to give the Alagarve a go. Alright, admittedly the name can be enough to summon up images of lager swilling hoodlums, tacky tourist shops by the mile and coach loads of said tourists and nylon rucksacks. After all, this is the place that used to be known as Europe’s best kept secret until the builders turned up and concreted it over big time. And it may be true to an extent. Much of those once quaint places like Albufeira, Vilamonia and Quarteira have admittedly been ruined by developers and the tourist industry. But a good friend had put me straight. “Don’t make the mistake of going south like everyone”, he’d said, “go east and you’ll discover the real Algarve that hasn’t been messed up.”

So we hopped on a flight with EasyJet and two and a half hours later were stepping off the plane at Faro. Faro itself is well worth a stop. Its old town (Cidade Velha) with its cobbled streets and pretty orange tree lined square is a good place to sit with a coffee and get a feel for the place. You might even want to take the short trip from here to the beach at Faro Island.

From Faro we drove east along the coast and headed for Tavira. We reached this little fishing town in no more than half an hour, and fell in love with the place as as soon as we arrived.  Much of this town remains unspoilt by the developments in the south, and any new buildings that have appeared seemed to be discreet and sympathetic to their surroundings. In fact, much of this small town is populated by 16^th and 17^th century mansions and houses with their decorative  azuejos (tiles) intact. An impressive Roman bridge spanning the River Gilao, links the two sides of this charming town. Wander down its cobbled streets where old men play dominoes in the shade and sit at one of its cafes overlooking the Gilao River and watch the world go by.  Then if you have the energy in this sleepy little place, take a leisurely stroll to the 13^th century castle which was rebuilt by King Dinis and enjoy the splendid views. Although small, Tavira boasts no fewer than 37 churches, many with spires and some with white domes. The 16^th century Igneja da Misericordia with its blue and white  azuejos and brilliant carvings is perhaps the finest to be found anywhere in the Algarve.

Those of you who can’t do without the beach won’t be disappointed. Tavira’s beach takes the form of huge sandy spits known as Ilhas (little islands) and can be reached by a ferry which operates regularly. If you come here in May you may be lucky enough to catch the Gastronomy Festival and sample some of the town’s culinary offerings.

There are plenty of other little villages within easy reach. Cacela Velha is only a hamlet, but if you really want to find somewhere quiet, this is the place. Perched on a rocky promontory, the views from here are something else and the sandy shore below is both breathtaking and deserted.

Alex Pearl is a freelance copywriter and author of ‘Sleeping with the Blackbirds’.

http://sleepingwiththeblackbirds.co.uk         http://alexpearlmini.carbonmade.com

Zandvoort, Holland

As a family with young kids, finding a suitable holiday each year to keep both adults and children happy is always something of a challenge. But a couple of years ago, having firstly trawled the car hire comparison sites for a good deal on a five- door hatchback, we took advice from some good friends who for the past four years had been going to Holland and booking a chalet at the Dutch Center Parcs at Zandvoort on the North Sea coast. Now, before you jump to any conclusions, let me say right away that we aren’t your classic Center Parcs sporting fanatics, and neither are our friends. No, the thing that really attracted us to Zandfoort is it’s brilliant location, only a stone’s throw away from Haarlem, and not much further from Amsterdam. And, of course, its other great attraction is its famous flatness and extensive network of cycle lanes.

I have to admit here that I hadn’t actually sat on a bicycle for some considerable time, so the idea of cycling did at first fill me with a little trepidation. But as a role model I clearly had an important job here to set a good example to my nine-year-old son who had only just learnt to propel himself on two wheels without stabilisers.

Center Parcs at Zandfoort is a perfectly good place to stay. It’s not exactly the height of luxury, but it’s certainly good enough. The chalets were clean and had all the facilities you’d expect. In fact, I think the chalets may well have been upgraded recently, judging from the latest pictures on its website. There is a good indoor swimming pool with slides, which is free to use and a decent bakery too. But our intention was to just use the place as a base from which to drive, walk and, yes, cycle.

You can hire bicycles from the centre. Being Dutch, they have a strange system of breaking; instead of using the handlebars, you have to cycle backwards. It sounds very Heath Robinson, but believe me, it works pretty well. So having parked in the car park, we ventured out on our bikes and discovered the joys of Dutch cycle ways. These are, in fact, more than just cycle ways, they are separate road systems, often with two lanes, and not always running adjacent to those used by cars. So you really do feel safe, even if, like me, you’re a bit wobbly to start with.

From the centre you can cycle along the coast for miles, and like us, park at one of the many smart cafes overlooking the beach and sit with a good book, while the children play on the beach.

Of course, when not cycling, there are the local cities to take in. Haarlem is a little gem of a place, with its intricate network of beautiful canals, stately canal houses and charming cobbled streets. And the Franz Hals Museum is a must. Then there’s Amsterdam with so many wonderful attractions. We just confined ourselves to the Vincent Van Gough museum and Anne Frank’s house, which is an incredibly moving experience.

The combination of cycling, site seeing and swimming meant that the kids didn’t moan too much about being dragged around museums when they knew that we’d soon be on our bikes, quite literally.

Alex Pearl is a freelance copywriter and author of ‘Sleeping with the Blackbirds’.

http://sleepingwiththeblackbirds.co.uk         http://alexpearlmini.carbonmade.com