Towards the Highlands

Bernie is insistent on the placing a trip advisor review of the Fraser Suites – she pleads for the comments that I made on the blog – I transfer them to her and she uploads them but not before adding one additional sentence as follows:

          … “The bathroom doors so heavy that it requires a caber tosser to open it”

She decides to upload the review under my name – I receive a terse email from Trip Advisor – your posting contains a profanity! – please amend and resubmit – we study the review – what are they talking about?– it finally dawns on the geriatrics that the English language has evolved over their lifetime– we amend the final sentence of the review as follows:

…. The bathroom door so heavy that it would require a competitor in the camber throwing event at the Highland Games to open it” – so far – so good – no more terse emails from Trip Advisor!

We arise - the weather in the auld reekie has turned – gone is the sunshine of our first tw0 days replaced by the cold sleet that the Scots accept as their winter lot – we summons an Uber – two minutes and we off to pick up the hire car – in a flash we are off over the Forth of Fife bridge and onto the Fife Tourist Road – the sleet continues – the clouds low – the paddocks green with grass or chocolate brown with newly turned soil – the hedges just starting to display the first traces of their spring attire - the outlook bleak and drab save for the yellow of the daffodil and gorse.

Slowly the weather improves – just improves – it still threatens! –

It is Saturday morning – things are quiet on the roads and in the villages – the locals clearly rise late on weekends – the cafes that usually dominate the town centres of villages on such tourist routes have their doors firmly closed  - our hunger pangs are raised to new levels upon the transit of each village until finally we find a bakery come coffee shop prepared to soothe them albeit with hardly a smile and with a distinct absence of conversation – I wonder if the bleak regression of the emerging spring weather was having a demoralising effect on the locals _ a Haggis  and Steak pie for Bernie – something more conventional for me – while we consume the produce of this local bakery we trust that their manner does not reflect the normal demeanour of Scottish traders and is indeed a product of the day’s gift of the weather gods.

We leave the bakery and proceed along the Fife Tourist Route – the weather shows a greater tendency to improve than to regress – we follow the coastline – we marvel at the shades of grey of the ocean and the skies on its horizon – we note the oil rigs located surprisingly close to coastline.-

By the time we reach Pittenweem the sun has overcome its opposing elements and is trying its best to brighten the hearts and minds of the travellers – we emerge from the hire car at the historic old harbour at Pittenween – it is lunchtime – we brave the chilly winds to join a few Germans – a few Scandinavians – a few locals – all admiring the boats and wondering at the paraphernalia of the crab fishermen – scallops and smoked salmon for lunch – our eyes too large for the capacity of our bellies.

Onwards – the weather improves to the stage were it could be described as tolerable – along hedge bordered road – along roads  bordered by land turned by mouldboard plough -along roads bordered by wide open paddocks of uniform green – along roads that follow the ocean.

We reach ……. And head inland – Bernie sees a tourist sign “Scotland’s Secret bunker” – she cannot resist – we follow the signs – we pay the 30 pounds entry fee – we whince – the fees are large in Scotland – an early nuclear was bunker declassified in 1993 – the operations room in the even of a nuclear attack – long past its use by date – a testimony to man’s folly – we contemplate the facilities that must have replaced it – we assume their location and details are known only to those n the know!

Onwards – the sun shines - St Andrews – by the sea - through her architecture and atmosphere she  politely points to her tradition as a university town – not quiet Cambridge  but a traditional university town nevertheless - busy on a Saturday afternoon – students – locals – golfing tourists sporting their golf bags screaming “look at me – I am finally fulfilling a lifetime of dreams”

Across the Tay – into Dundee – to Perth and the Auld Manse Guest House

Airm-in-airm wae mah burd in the Auld Reekie

We emerge from our transit induced tiredness – we puzzle about the mental capacities of the detail designer of our accommodations in the Fraser Suites – it is an exemplary example of how to negate the effects of location on the overall amenity of a lodging place.

The Fraser Suites could hardly have a better location – 20 metres from the Royal Mile –  50 metres to St Giles Cathedral - 10 minutes to the Edinburgh Castle – 5 minutes to the Scottish National Museum – prime – prime – prime location! – pleasant – pleasant staff from the European community – a room design that gives absolute priority to aesthetics while rendering practically no consideration to the practical needs of travellers – a shower area that anyone over the age of 50, should they gain access to the shower space,  would deserve complement for their fitness – a shower and bath water control system so complex that it justifies its detailed explanation in the hotel compendium -  a single chair in the double room – nothing that resembles an area for case storage – a bed head so large and glorious that it makes the operation of the suites light switches a challenge and curtains that renders a significant part of the floor area unusable.

Wander down – head for the Castle – we are early – we join two short queues that form prior to opening – the young scot gatekeeper makes presence felt! – in a loud voice and big smile  -“those with pre-ordered tickets to the left – those wanting to buy tickets to the right – any questions  5 pounds”

We do what everyone who visits the castle does.

Off to the Scottish National Museum – a delight – impressive – again staff that make you feel that they like their job and that you are welcome in their workplace.

Wander back towards the Royal Mile – spring is emerging in the “auld reekie”

We try haggis and scotch eggs for lunch – superb! – Makars Gourmet Mash Bar at the Mound – agree with their billboard – great food and fairly attractive staff! – impressed with genuine Xavier Pouchard chairs -  impressed with the quote on their walls - “work as if you live in the early days of a better nation” -  Denis Leigh  - cannot help thinking I would like to see it modified and adopted as the charter issued by electors to their Australian elected representatives – “Behave as if you are living in the early days of a better nation!”

Rest and relax – emerge to join a small group on a ghost tour of environs of the Royal Mile – the Merkat Tour– great wannabe young actor Sam! – great fun!

Return to the Pizza place this time “airm-in-airm wae mah burd”!

Arrh! - Scotland

We arise – time to depart the Suryaa and India – on to the road to the airport – it is 6.15am – a much later start than our last visit to Indira Gandhi!

We sit in the car – it is speeding along – there must have been an overnight tragedy of enormous proportion! – what could have happened? – did half of the population of Delhi die overnight? – had the conveyances of Delhi suffered a terminal malady? – there is practically no one is on the roads! – this is not Delhi!

We are at the airport in a flash – not even a chance to congratulate one another on our skills in having maintained our human food processing systems in such good condition! – clearly there were plenty of people who managed to avoid the tragedy that befell Delhi last night since the terminal entrance ways certainly do not display the same paucity of people and conveyance that afflicted the roads of Delhi this morning.

The driver bids us farewell - we join the moderate queue – we ready our passport and visa - we brace ourselves to face the army security officers that attend the doors to the terminal - No! no! no!  mumbles the guard – he opens the queue tape – waves us away – eventually we discern that it is the ticket and not the visa he is looking for! – we join some European girls suffering the same side of Indian bureaucracy  – we produce a poor facsimile of a ticket that we had printed online at home from a printer in desperate need of ink cartridge replacement – barely readable as a ticket but suffice to satisfy the minimum requirement for entry into the airport – even someone as unskilled as a terrorist as I could have satisfied the criteria for entry.

The remaining airline and border processes proceed with an efficiency that belies the reputation of the Indian administrative systems.

We take our seats – immediately I recognise that the decision to travel premium economy will have long term implications – I interpret Bernie’s approving demeanour as an indicator that she has already made a mental note to insist that the length of future overseas jaunts be reduced to the extent that budget space is made to enable a repeat this class of travel.

The daylight flight to Edinburgh? – easy! – almost a pleasure – the trip only marred by the realities of transiting through Heathrow – as we disembark we smile as we listen to the passengers of English descent disembarking in London – “I will not eat another curry for a year” says one – “I am craving Yorkshire pudding” says another – “I am buying fish and chips for tea tonight” says another – Ah the Raj returning home!

We exit the plane – bright sunshine – the spring of Scotland – thank the Lord for the sunshine since the air is cold – the wind brisk – the effect? – bracing!

The Terminal signs welcome us to Scotland – they scream “Edinburgh Airport -The face of Scotland to the World” – The world responds “Scotland – What in the <insert your own word from the list below> are you up to! – we finally find a set of baggage handlers that make those at Hervey Bay seem moderately efficient – we stand with the crowd admiring the mechanics of an empty conveyor belt for half an hour - -none of the locals seem to think any of this is unusual .

Our bags are retrieved – we follow sign after sign – after sign – after another sign and then another sign – at last the taxi queue – we wait in line – the sun still trying without success to ameliorate effects of remnant winter air and the brisk wind – we question our decisions on the content of our cases -  again we read the sign – “Edinburgh Airport – the Face of Scotland to the World” – again the World says: “Edinburgh what in the <insert the same word you chose before> are you thinking!”

At last a taxi – it is approaching 8.00pm – a rapid transit to the hotel – the Fraser Suites? – in currency the most expensive of our trip – in accommodation, size and utility a poor relation to its Indian colonial counterparts – in location? – superb – on the Royal Mile!

The hunter is send out to hunt! – there is no way Bernie is leaving the room tonight! – out into the chilly winds – a packed Pizza place – I stand in the entrance – ask for a takeaway – it arrives in a flash! – the hunter returns – the Pizza consumed – appreciated – Darby and Joan retire for 8 hours of sleep.

Finally - A selection of words for insertion where instructed fools – first a small but significant admission - that the word I used is not actually in this list:

• Hell
• World
• Blazes
• Fooooooook!

The Raj return to the plains

We sit on the terrace overlooking old Shimla – the drinks waiter has made his way down three flights of stairs simply to provide us with our gin and tonics – I am tempted to offer a tip but remember that this hotel, like the Trident at Agra has a policy against personal tipping.

He adjourns,  his pockets empty - climbs the 50 vertical feet to his bar station – he does not even notice the paucity of oxygen in the atmosphere of Shimla.

We sip our drinks - one hand clasping the gin and tonic – one hand firmly grasping our camera and bags - one eye on the view – one eye on the monkey family who claim this domain as their own!

We are joined by a British couple – the monkeys drop from their perch high on the wall of the terrace – bags are clutched with even greater tenacity – now pairs of human eyes focus on the monkeys as they parade their way across the pavement towards the adjacent trees– as they parade they take a long steady look at us and I swear they uttered forcefully in a language that every monkey would understand – “don’t even think of annoying us or we will bite you on the bum!”

We bravely finish our drinks

We try to capture a photograph that can convey the way in which the hotel clings to the steep slopes of the mountains.

We  take some last photographs of the sun setting over Shimla.

We retire to the entirely vacant restaurant – we greeted warmly – “you leave tomorrow? – they have clearly been briefed! – “it has been my pleasure to serve you” – we order – we eat – the Chef appears – “Did you enjoy the meal?” – it has been my pleasure to serve you” – says he – like his fellow members of staff his is anxious that we note his tag and remember his name.

We ask why the restaurant is empty save for us and the British couple who had just arrived – “oh Indian Tourists do not eat until 10pm” says he.

We adjourn - we comment to each other that the chef has indeed done a wonderful job – we pass the drinks waiter – again – “it is my pleasure to have served you” – he turns to ensure that his chest tag is brought to our attention – I would love to know the precise mechanism by which the proceeds acquired by the centralised tipping system of the hotel is distributed.

We will leave early in the morning – I attempt to pay the bill the evening before departure – I am greeted by the reception staff – like the general staff of the old and regal Clarkes Hotel, they too are keen to complete their farewells – they discretely ensure that we are aware of the central tipping system employed by the hotel - this is a well briefed and managed team! – I am impressed!

The last formalities are attempted – paying the bill – oh dear – try the first card – it does not work – try the second card it – does not work! – then try another machine – the success level remains unaltered – they try a third machine – again the success level remains unaltered – I look aghast – they seem unconcerned – I hastily retreat to the small ATM across the walkway that is the Shimla mall – the cards are tested – they pass with flying colours! – I return to reception – do not worry Sir – it is the network Sir – it is the height Sir! – I puzzle – how in the hell does the height affect the performance of an internet connection but clearly it is an explanation that they feel comfortable with – “you try again in the morning before you leave Sir”

We rise - The season is over! – time for these august members of the Raj to return to the plains! – “our bags are packed – we are ready to go” –  Sanjeev arrives – Yousef arrives – off in the early morning through old Shimla and down the mountain to the airstrip created by unleashing a cavalcade of high powered bull dozers to render level the least inclined ridge line in the vicinity of Shimla – a mighty achievement.

We make our way through the relatively quiet lanes of old Shimla – lanes that carry two lanes of traffic where there is only one lane of width – lanes that carry the occasional holy cow – the occasional group of well fed and relatively friendly canines – lanes that are bordered and impinged on by parked cars - small, dusty cars that occupy every possible resting place at every conceivable angle and inclination along the length of the laneway – cars that bear the scars of transit on the Shimla road system - I smile – we pass a small local hotel – it proudly boasts of “ample parking” – that must be a lie! – there just isn’t ample parking in Shimla!

We finally reach the airport – we have been lured into full trust in our guide – he has set the departure and transit times from the hotel to the airport – the car reaches the airport entrance gate – we are met by armed guards – true armed guards  - professional soldiers – Ak47 -like rifles hanging on shoulder straps - our passports and tickets are inspected – the vehicle is inspected - we progress – the driver and guide stand aside  – we are met at the terminal entrance – more rifle bearing soldiers – our passports and tickets are inspected again – we approach the door of the terminal – an airport officer inspects our passport and tickets – we enter the terminal – “hurry Sir - you are late!” – our passports and tickets are examined again – we are ushered to the check in counter – the check-in clerk looks at us - you are late! – check in has closed!” he barks – I stand stunned – the guide has not been allowed into the terminal – he waits outside – I stand my mouth ajar – he looks at my passport – he finally grunts – issues boarding passes – we are ushered towards security – I look behind – there is a very small queue behind – we were not the last to arrive! – I feel a little relieved – our bags are placed on the security conveyor – they enter the scanning zone – forward – backward – forward – backwards – forwards again – “empty that bag of the leads and power-board!” Says the security officer – the bag goes through! – we are eventually in the boarding area – we look up – the plane has not even arrived in Shimla yet!

The flight to Delhi is without incident – the driver awaits us on terminal exit – an hour – there is the Moldovan Embassy - we are at the Suryaa again!

Like their Clarkes Hotel peers this is a well healed team – the Bell Desk is waiting with our stored luggage – we are greeted with a “Hello Mr Mike” – “Welcome back Mr Mike” – no central tipping here – the bag delivery awaits our decision to rise from the lobby and go to our assigned room – the Bellboy must ensure that there is every opportunity for the service tip to be personally delivered!

We look forward to one last genuine Indian meal before we depart – we will be much more discerning clients of Indian eateries when we return to Australia!

The driver will collect us at 6:15am for our last encounter with the not-so-attractive Indian road system with its numerous cars, trucks, motor cycles, buses and tuk-tuks and their talented drivers, riders and conductors.

We prepare and repack - having lived the life of the Raj in Shimla we are pleased that our departure tickets are marked POSH - we have the starboard side of Premium Economy on the British airways flight to Edinburgh! - passports are checked - credit cards are checked - departure times are checked - we are ready to go!

Travelling India “our style” was a delight – while the style would bore the adventurous among you, it was appropriate for us – our first use of driver and guide – the first use of a travel company – the inclusion of a trip to Shimla to escape the more aggressive of the assaults that India inflicts on your senses? – wise! – wise! – enjoyable! – The palaces and protections of Akbar and his Wives? – stunning! – The Taj Mahal? – exactly what its visitors say about it – a true wonder of the world! – Old Delhi? -  a delight – modern Delhi? – crowded – tired – struggling – trying! – The Travel Company – Enchanting India – rendered a faultless service – “the best company in India” says Sanjeev the freelance Guide from Shimla – highly recommended by these travellers!