Spectacular Stanley

 

Saturday 24 May 2025

Yesterday we walked further downtown (via Sephora, one of my favourite girly make-up shops) and down to the waterfront, where we picked up the Sea Walk past the mahoosive cruise ships and the legends telling us all about the various prominent people who had helped shape the city of Vancouver - and the occasional sculpture. The one below is beautiful but has a rather unpleasant origin in that it's intended to commemorate the many victims of asbestosis, representing the way that the particles travel and affect the pulmonary system.

 

We passed the sea planes and ocean cruises and continued along the boardwalk to the beautiful Stanley Park, named after the former Governor General, which comprises 1000 acres and is bigger than Central Park. The aquarium is also housed there, along with many different sections that create a gorgeous outdoor space. Sadly we missed the totem poles!

After a short wander round we had worked up sufficient appetite for lunch and after a bit of headscratching we found Stanley' Bar & Grill. We had a great lunch on the verandah (I enjoyed a glass of rose and a bowl of seafood chowder), then wandered some more, lay on the grass after a while and then headed back into downtown (there was some very loud bass being tested on a PA somewhere which kind of drove us away) on a very crowded trolley bus which the kind Sikh driver let us on for free.

After a spell at the apartment and the market ravioli for supper, we headed out back to Canada Place to pick up the double-decker bus for a Sunset Trip Tour. Owen, the enthusiastic young guide gave us a lot of information about the city and its history as we passed by various landmarks ("we should go back there") - in fact far more than the previous night's tour!

Some interesting facts: Stanley Park's perimeter is on West Georgia Street which continues as a single highway down through to Tijuana, Mexico, and the city's changeable weather means the city is known as Raincouver; its position on the Ring of Fire means it's also at risk of earthquakes. (The reflective glass on so many of the skyscrapers is also intended to be earthquake-proof.) The second largest port in North America, Vancouver is also known as North Hollywood due to the number of films and TV shows filmed in the city - because it's cheap and because it's "bland" (Owen's words, not mine); so its lack of distinguising landmarks in the way of the camera (like London as an old city has St Paul's, Big Ben etc, or New York or Paris have similarly prominent and iconic locations), mean that it can represent any old big urban setting. The Great Fire of 1886 started due to delogging of the temperate rainforest area in Gastown, and Vancouver wasn't very old then, so there's a dearth of old buildings and hence its uber-modern appearance and skyline. 

The Lionsgate bridge across the sea cost the Guinness family $6m dollars back in the day. When it opened, once bridge crossers had paid tolls totalling that price, the canny family then sold the bridge back to the city council...here's Toni and I with the bridge in the background. 

We enjoyed seeing the huge laughing figures sculptures as the sun came down at English Bay, 

and after an Italian Custard gelato, further views of the glittering skyscrapers (the building below is known as "the butterfly", with its wings on either side, behind the Wesleyan church) and a satisfying 20,000+ steps, an early night was in order..

Market fresh

 

Friday 23 May 2025

Yesterday (Friday) once we were up and about we headed for Granville Island - the little ferry goes across from Hornby Street a short walk from here down some leafy streets. The young woman had barely had chance to collect our fares before we docked (so actually $8 for an adult return is quite expensive when you think about it!) and we immediately headed for the shops - lots of lovely little crafty shops, handmade soaps (I bought Fresh Cotton fragrance, finally choosing it over Vancouver Rain), and plenty of native American designed-art though sadly transposed on to mugs and other items and made in China....we spent a lot of time happily browsing all the lovely shops with a few modest purchases.

The food market was glorious in an over-indulgent, cornucopia kind of way. (So much food - what happens to what remains at the end of the day?!) Fruit stalls with exotic dragon fruit, juicy strawberries, raspberries and cherries built lovingly into beautiful pyramids; a food court with delicious takeaway from many corners of the globe (we had Mexican), and stalls with food to take and cook at home (we chose ravioli). It really is shopping heaven and it was only sore feet and a little retail fatigue that prevented us from visiting every outlet, despite a reviving iced coffe and piece of cake.

Once off the return ferry, Lucy headed off to find a Samsonite repair shop for her misbehaving trolley case (and came back with a bargain new one), and Toni and I returned to the apartment having of course got a little bit lost despite the fact that the city is pretty much a grid system...on more than one occasion since being here, we've set off purposefully on the right street in the wrong direction.

I had booked a "Forbidden Vancouver" walking tour for the evening, namely "Lost souls of Vancouver" in the Gastown district (named after the man who helped the development of the area, a loquacious man who earned the nickname "Gassy", hence the district being named after him). We went to a lovely pub/restaurant for a light meal beforehand, and then met up with Billy, a would-be actor wearing a bowler hat, an overcoat and carrying a battery-operated lantern, masquerading as a tour guide. Sorry - I'm being mean, but he couldn't improvise either - when asked a question that was off-script he glazed over, smiled awkwardly and just said "Follow me" as a prelude to moving on. He looked the part, but just didn't have the chutzpah to carry it off.

Not only was his presentation (supposedly his own story) all over the place (I like chronological order please), the content was incredibly dull and disjointed. It says something when one of the high points of was watching a large rat crossing the road from the unremarkable but allegedly historic alleyway where we had paused - much of Gastown was destroyed by fire and what's left isn't terribly well preserved. The famous steam clock on Water Street is very attractive (it toots like a steam train on the quarter hour) but was running at 15 minutes slow and actually only dates from 1977.

Shortly after that, we decided we could take no more, watched the group go off in the distance after the bowler hat, and headed back up busy, bustling Granville Street to the apartment. Not just busy with Friday night revellers, but with people with shopping carts overbalancing with carrier bags of stuff, and men lying down asleep where they had fallen down.

I've found the level of desperate vagrancy present in Vancouver more than slightly distressing, but we've since found out from local that many of the people we've seen comatose on the pavements are homeless by choice, having not only come to Vancouver (the warmest city in Canada) to avoid extremes of weather, but also wanting to congregate with like-minded souls. Just as in London, here in Vancouver there are hostels and the equivalent of Streetlink teams supporting these poor souls. From my experience at Crisis over the years I know this apparent contradiction to be true - that whilst we can't understand why on earth anyone would want to be without a roof over their head, for many it's a way of life without responsibility and commitment which suits them despite the discomfort and indignity of a life on the streets that's only occasionally ameliorated by charitable efforts and social support networks. 

It still makes me sad though. 

Top of the train

Wednesday 21/Thursday 22 May 2025

I've arrived in Vancouver at the tiny and a little bit shabby Air BnB in a tower block that I'm sharing with Toni and Lucy for the long weekend after two days on the Rocky Mountaineer train from Banff, where I've been waited on pretty much hand and foot and organised with great efficiency (paid through the nose for it, mind you!). They're both in bed early following early starts and time zone differences, whereas wobbly train legs notwithstanding, I am now accustomed to being several hours behind and so am catching up on the blog.

The Rocky Mountaineer train company appeares to employ a cast of thousands - the trains (there are several routes) are made up of double-decker "gold leaf" carriages with a top deck containing reclining wide leather seats beneath a glass-domed roof, with a dining car beneath and a vestibule/viewing deck large enough to hold about 12 people. The hoi-polloi, or those who have only bought the "silver leaf" package, are in ordinary single deck coaches where I assume they were served airline-style at their seats - not sure what size of viewing deck they had but was reliably informed it only held a couple of people at a time. Was it worth the extra £300 for the gold package? Hell yes. I've travelled first class on European trains in the past but none were quite so special as this, with a "cabin crew" of young women who couldn't do enough for us. "Can I get you anything to drink?" "Would you like a snack?" "Eggs scrambled? No problem". 

 

Photos show the dining car and one of the top-notch loos, and my Aperol spritz pre-lunch (I held out as the bar was open from 0930 - the glass on the right is apple juice along with addictive chocolate and peanut snack mix...)

Amazing food (best smoked salmon ever), quality wine, proper cutlery, crockery and glassware, and an incredible landscape which was at times so breathtaking I wanted to weep at its beauty (nearly lost it at Nicomen Creek and falls). Sadly I missed the occasional shouts of nearby wildlife "Bear to the left!" or "Moose to the right" as it always seemed to be on the other side of the carriage, but I did see a number of eagles and an osprey in the semi-arid valley of the Thompson river on day 2, where their nests are often gently moved by the telecoms companies to dummy utility poles to avoid electrocution when they settle on the real ones. At the highest point of the journey on day one, I rushed out to the vestibule with my camera to take pics of the sheer drop and rapids below, only for the battery to die on me and to curse the fact that my phone was in my handbag at my seat upstairs.

Much of the early part of the route (a total of about 600 miles, split in two by an overnight stop in the railway town of Kamloops which nestles in a valley surrounded by mountains and at the end of a plateau created by an enormous lake) is quite a feat of engineering, including the spiral tunnels carved beneath Mount Cathedral turning 220 degrees so that what's right when you enter is left when you emerge. we travelled alongside 7 rivers on the first day - Bow, Kicking Horse, Columbia, Beaver, Illecillewaet, Eagle and the South Thompson and a number of lakes. On day two, we were alongside the North Thompson which is clear and then it meets the Fraser which is muddy and the two run alongside each other for some distance with the obvious contrast - weird! 

An especially spectacular viewpoint on day two was at the Cisco crossing, where one railway bridge passes over another with the Fraser river beneath. Because of an early lack of co-operation, the Canadian Pacific and National railways built west and eastbound tracks on separate sides of the Fraser.

The Rockies are visible from space, running like "a giant scar" for 250km. Once they were one range with the Columbian mountains to the east, but the shifting of tectonic plates separated the two ranges. I didn't see any beavers (the raucous septuagenarian, rather annoying Australians in my coach couldn't resist lots of dirty jokes at the word beaver, which our lovely cabin crew pretended not to understand), but - fun fact - their teeth never stop growing (hence they need to gnaw everything), they live for 10 - 15 years, and they can hold their breath for up to 15 minutes under water. That's beavers of course, not the septuagnearian Aussies.

Incidentally, I felt quite the youngster on the trip with most people blowing their children's inheritance and heading for Alaskan cruises after Vancouver. But the Australians were in the elderly majority, and it all got a bit much when they actually started singing "Waltzing Matilda" as the trip drew to a close. I turned up my headphones at that point and swore FFS quietly. Other English and Scottish people in the coach also maintained a stiff upper lip. When dining at breakfast and lunch with my fellow travellers, they were friendly enough, but as on many occasions it seems a single woman travelling alone is a bit of an oddity ("Yes, just me for lunch") and I was given a pretty wide berth by all the heterosexual couples in my coach. The only other single person was a woman from Saudi - sadly her English wasn't great (I did try without much success to engage with her at breakfast), and far too much facial surgery and botox had given her a somewhat alarming appearance, so like me she was a bit isolated - but hey I had a double seat to myself!

For much of day one, our speed was quite slow - maybe around 40mph - for much of the route as it wound around acute angles and the vast lakes and foothills. Much of it was also single track, so occasionally we had to wait in sidings for interminable (200 trucks' worth) freight trains to pass through. A few interesting settlements along the way, and some sad stories like the town of Lytton in Fraser Canyon, destroyed in 15 minutes by wildfire some years ago, or the ghost town of Walhachin which was created in 1907 on the basis of false advertising and was then decimated by young men being called to fight in WW1 who never returned, so that only about 30 people live there today.

 Day two was generally faster as there were longer straight stretches of track in a quite different landscape in the semi-arid river valleys and through lots of woodland towards the end, with lakeside dwellings, farmland, small holdings and cows - and lots of stockyards which were not quite so breathtaking. The low point of the trip was the amount of time it took for the final leg where we seemed to spend forever in sidings in less pretty surroundings, taking over an hour to get to the transfer coaches from the outskirts of the city. Oh and the aforementioned train legs, which I am suffering from again tonight, hoping sleep will again cure. But what a trip - a budget buster but unforgettable, and I'm only sorry that my cheapie camera and poor technique doesn't accurately represent the true majesty of the landscapes. 

Canadian capers

 Wednesday 21 May 2025

 I've actually been here since Friday 16 May when I flew into Toronto from Gatwick (spare seat next to me - hurrah - but slightly disappointing choice of movies), but haven't had a lot of time as I've been spending  a few days with my dear friends Toni and Donald Graham at their lovely home in Mississauga which is kind of like a suburb but supposedly a city in its own right. 

I arrived mid afternoon in lovely sunshine and a heatwave of 26C, which sadly dropped by about 10 degrees the following day together with some fairly biblical rain when we visited St Jacobs market and joined the march of the penguins in the covered food market - it was rammed and as Toni already had a very full fridge we weren't purchasing. We spent a pleasant half hour wandering the antiques market and then headed off to the little town of Elora. 

After a lunch at the Handsome Devil bistro, some light retail therapy followed (though this was somewhat challenging, as despite the fact that it was a Saturday afternoon many of the merchants of Elora saw fit to close at lunchtime and there were no tea and buns to be had after 4.30pm). We wandered down to take a look at the gorge and falls for which the town is famous. Have to say we were rather underwhelmed as there's been little attempt to create any kind of viewing platform or to cut back trees obscuring said views. and the falls are really just a fast-moving river at that point, so we headed off to the country park to try and get a better look, only to be told that we would be charged $9 for the privilege even if we only wanted to stay a few minutes. It was starting to rain anyway, so we headed back home, where Toni's youngest Dougal was cooking dinner - it was not his finest culinary hour, due to both burning and undercooking, but much merriment ensued which he will not be allowed to forget for a very long time.

On Sunday Donald joined us for a jaunt to Niagara on the Lake, which is a pretty, tulip-filled though touristy town, and again lunch and some retail therapy was the order of the day, together with some very good ice cream. On Monday, Toni and I caught the train into the city (it was a bank holiday, but most things seemed to be operating normally). We went to the Art Gallery of Ontario, a very lovely, light and airy building which was mercifully quiet. We very much enjoyed a very brief stay in a Yayoi Kusama infinity room

and then split up so that we could look at art which appealed to our rather different tastes - I like modern, and saw some Rothko/Warhol contemporaries along with some photography by the likes of Jeff Wall, whereas Toni likes her art a bit less abstract and a bit more 19the century. We met up again for a typically galleryesque overpriced lunch in their bistro, taking a tram afterwards down to the waterfront for a wander in the sunshine (annoyingly cold in the shade!) before heading home after a gutbusting cinnamon bun.

Early start on Tuesday when Donald took me to the airport to catch a 9.15 flight to Calgary, where I was then due to catch a bus to Banff. All was fairly uneventful (though I did flounce from the queue at Tim Horton's - take a bow Pret a Manger, you know how to do fast food fast) and I flew with Porter, which appears to be the Canadian equivalent of Easyjet, with considerably less charming cabin crew. 

The flight was at least early, meaning I was able to catch the highly efficient 1230 bus driven by the lovely helpful Lucas to Banff, and got my first glimpse of the mountains. 

Banff itself is terribly touristy - I went for a wander as my room wasn't ready and there are more gift shops selling hats, T-shirts and Boss bear souvenirs than you can shake a stick at. (Boss bear is a local legend - despite being hit twice by a train, he has fathered around 80% of the local bear population.) Everywhere I went there were young people from the UK working in shops and restaurants, and it was really busy but pleasant enough - and yes I did do a bit of shopping. My hotel was rustic, clean and comfortable, though was one of the dingiest rooms I've ever stayed in with a dearth of conveniently-placed plug sockets. I had a disappointing meal at a restaurant nearby, watched a film on Netflix, packed my suitcase and carry-on carefully as neither would be accessible to me on the train the next day, and slept badly.

I was probably excited for the Rocky Mountaineer train trip next day and I'll write more about that tomorrow, because now as I write in my hotel room in the very spread-out town of Kamloops (which appears to be on about seven different levels), I have disorienting "train legs" and am feeling very wobbly. I also need to be up at stupid o'clock again tomorrow to get on the bus at 7am, but for now here's me this morning awaiting take-off on the budget-busting gold leaf service coach with glass roof, mahoosive leather seats and constant delicious food and drink served by charming young women who must have core muscles of steel...

Not very princely

 

Tuesday 24 September

At last the weather forecast bodes well for the day, so we decide to take a ferry to one of the Princes Islands, about 90 minutes each way south. The fare is very cheap - just a couple of quid each way. We had decided to visit Buyukada, the largest island. but we hadn't really researched it very thoroughly and if I'm honest it was a disappointing venture. 

The area around the harbour is pretty - there are gazillions of fish restaurants, some nice little shops and more ice cream vendors than you can shake a stick at. 

But we couldn't get any information about how to get to anything resembling a beach - we just fancied a flop day and a bit of sun - and it appeared that you either had to get on a bus (again, very little information and no tourist office to help), or hire a bike. Neither of us were keen to do the latter - I'm wobbly on two wheels and wasn't suitably attired - and there was nowhere within walking distance for us to sit and soak up some sun.

Dee is also suffering with a stomach upset, so we decide to cut our losses and return to the city. The trip back is spoilt by crazy/stupid fellow tourists screeching with delight feeding seagulls by hand as they swooped towards the boat. Sorry if that makes me sound like a curmudgeon, but apart from the fact that I really don't like seagulls, the crap they were being fed was probably poisoning them anyway. One amusing and somewhat bizarre sideshow is a man selling vegetable peelers with much aplomb - not quite what you expect on a domestic ferry. He's quite the showman and appears to do brisk trade.

I pop into the Grand Bazaar and bartered for a souvenir T-shirt (sometimes it pays to offer cash) and sit on the roof terrace to read for a while before the sun disappears around the rooftops. Dee decides it's best not to eat, so I dine alone downstairs to the accompaniment of the usual musicians and enjoy a last dinner.

Wednesday 25 September

After breakfast we have a couple of hours to spare before our cab arrives to take us to the airport on the Asian side. We walk down towards the Bosphorus, cross a busy dual carriageway and take a pleasant stroll and sit on a bench along the seemingly quite new river path past the fishermen. 

Our taxi arrives promptly and Tour Radar has supplied another nice young man to accompany us to the airport and liaise with the driver. It takes over an hour to get to SAW but it's interesting to look out of the window at what appears to be a very different, more high-rise, urban Istanbul. We're easily on time - the airport is modern and not too busy, though food is expensive - nearly £3 for a Snickers bar, which we decline, and even fast food prices are inflated. 

The flight is on time and we arrive back at Heathrow where as expected it's pretty chilly with very grey skies. I catch the Elizabeth line and change at Tottenham Court Road around 8pm, where I notice that people move around the busy station singly or in pairs - in Istanbul all the tourists seemed to be in packs and at times that's felt a bit overwhelming. I arrive home just after 9pm, by which time it's persisting down with rain so I'm quite damp. I'm missing blue skies and wide open spaces, but also glad to be home after quite a frenetic trip and sleeping in lots of different beds!

What I have learned about Turkiye

I really hadn't realised how ancient Greek and Turkish myths and legends overlap geographically (thanks also to Stephen Fry and his book Mythos). So Troy's not in Greece?! 

Turkiye is huge. The amount of time spent on the bus was way more than I expected and I really should have consulted an atlas. I also didn't realise that only 3% of Turkiye is in Europe. I also didn't know that Asian Turkiye is known as Anatolia.

I saw some amazing landscapes and incredible ruined cities. Mind-boggling.

Nearly all the local people I met were friendly and hospitable. It all felt very safe. 

Smoking appears to be the national pastime. 

I'm not a huge fan of the food, at least that which was on offer to me. To be honest I think I've had nicer meze in my local high street, where I'm very spolit for Mediterranean restaurants. I liked the white wine, but the reds were a bit too powerful for my delicate palate! Turkish coffee isn't for me either, but I do like the sweeties and apple tea (samples of both came home with me). 

Inflation in Turkiye is currently over 50%, which explains some of the unexpectedly high prices.

If I'm to be successful in using squatting toilets, I need to wear dresses.

I'd like to go back for a flop holiday, but feel this tour satisfied my curiousity. Even if I didn't go up in balloon and spent an awful lot of time on a bus. 

Bosphurus and Balat

 Monday 23 September

Feeling a bit rough after vast amounts of walking yesterday, we head out a bit later than usual to visit the Sulmanaye mosque and social complex - it's very tranquil, and the cemetery is quite beautiful, though neither of the tombs are open. The mosque is amazing and we thought was on a par with the Blue, but much less frenetic with a more private space for women to pray. There are spectacular views of the city from the terrace, and what's more, it's free!

The streets down to Eminonu port were very steep and full of costume jewellery and metalwork (specifically belt buckle) wholesalers, just as the area near us is full of shoe and handbag showrooms. We found the cheapest Bosphurus tour that was available - no frills, no audio guide - and went on a 90-minute loop cruise to view both European and Asian Istanbul from the water. Apparently only about 3% of Turkiye is in Europe, the rest in Asia, and Istanbul on the Asian side appears far bigger and more urban/industiral/built up in a modern way. 

Back to the port and we hopped on the ever-useful tram a couple of stops to Fener and walked into the rcute neighbourhood of Balat. There are lots of colourfully painted houses, and little cafes and interesting shops.

There's a rather lovely synagogue way up high and we couldn't quite work out how to walk up there until it was too late - we would have been dragging behind a very large party of Italians. A shared ice cream (for some reason they'll only serve cups with a very large minimum quantity!) and we were heading back for the tram and came across a T-shirt run by a very sweet elderly gentleman and I found the gift I'd been seeking for someone. 

We ate at our "hotel" (it's a restaurant and bar with rooms really). The musicians were there, and the waiters were friendly as always, and we were pleasantly surprised by the food and wine - it's hardly gourmet, but it was tasty and we had proper bread (unlike the horrible dry long-life stuff they give us at breakfast), and of course, Raki to finish. I won't be bringing any home as it always tastes disgusting out of context. 

Cisterns, spice markets and the Orient Express

 Sunday 22 September 

We start the day in the extremely beautifully restored Basilica Cistern, once the hub of the water distirbution network. It's quite beautiful and lit accordingly, including modern sculptures as well as a version of Medusa backlit so that she appears as a sinister shadow on a nearly wall,  It's rather expensive to get in compared to other attractions. the palace the day before was probably better value, but it's very atmospheric.

As we come out the heavens have opened (not on the forecast, thanks BBC!) so we wait a while in the very good gift shop. Love the ceracmic ocean liner arrangement of tableware.

Once the rain has stopped, we then head off to the Spice Marker which is unsurprisingly both crammed and overpriced. After a brief stop to buy some probably very over-priced saffron, we head over the road to Sirkeci station, currently in process of refurbishment, but where the Orient Express found its terminus back in the day. It has some beautiful stained glass and a charming little free museum, but it's still used as a mainline station. Later that day we also visit Pele Palace Hotel, where many of the celebrity guests alighting the Orient Express went to stay whilst in Istanbul.

After a brief lunch stop at a fast food chain I'm sure I've seen in London, we head over to the ferry and for the price of a tram fare go over to Kakkale on the Asian side. At first it feels a bit like Croydon on a Sunday afternoon (with everyone out to shop - though tbh I've never been in Croydon on a Sunday afternoon), but we have some delicious ice cream and an enjoyable wander through the streets, keeping our purses tightly shut. Not what we expected, but the locals obviously know what to go for.

Twenty minutes back into Eminomu and we take the rammed funicular and antique tram up the hill to Taksim Square via Oxford Street. There's a lovely memorial to you-know-who at the top but the rest of it is just modern retail as far as the eye can see.

 

So we decide to head back downhill and after a slightly unpleasant walk through the less celubrious parts of Beyoglu, we find the Pere Palace which hass accommodated so many famous guests including Ms Christie herself, and we treat ourselves to a not-horrendously expensive glass of wine with some lovely nuts in the rather beautiful but also rather dimly-lit bar. And of course the loos live up to expectaions.

We then find Hazzo Pulo, an historic and rather quaint restaurant nearby, decorated with press cuttings that we think must feature the two 60-something guys in charge - brothers or gay, not sure, but one of them gives us both a massive hug when we say it's the best wine list we seen, and when we've been presented with a menu without photographs...

Afterwards we go home the wrong way and tempers fray a little. By the time we get back to the Old Ottoman after a very long walk, Dee has heartburn and I'm in need of more alcohol, So she goes to bed and I sit up to listen to our resident folk band  with a Raki and am joined for a chat by a pony-tailed (too old for it) DJ from Norway called Lars who's pleasant enough company but after a while the Scandinavian glumness sends me off to bed (alone!) with a handshake and "have fun". He's nearly 20 years my junior and even if I could get over the ponytail it's extremely unlikely he would be in the slightest bit interested in me!