Three Kiwis and a Turkey

When Mum booked to come over for the month of August, we had three clear purposes: to show her a good time, to introduce her to more of Europe, and finally to have a relaxing time ourselves thanks to a hideously busy year. Heading to Turkey was a no brainer - sunny, relaxing, different and so much to see and do, which is how we came to find ourselves boarding a plane one Monday evening, destination Bodrum, Turkey.

 

 

 Bodrum, is widely referred to as the Turkish Riviera and we were staying in a small town called Gumbet - an old fishing village, now resort area and absolutely perfect for what we had in mind. We researched for months and when we stumbled across this deal we struck gold - the perfect balance between luxury and affordability.
 

 

Thanks to a lengthy flight, the time difference and a long wait for bags the other side; we arrived at our hotel at around 3am, feeling cranky, nervous and desperately tired. When we were shown to our shoddy, make that appalling, room by a nervous looking member of staff we just about lost the plot. Luckily we had done our research and learned that this had happened to a number of people and were informed that they would try sort us out a better room first thing in the morning. Pissed off, we had a fitful sleep before Brad was up at first light ready to fight for us. Surprisingly a fight wasn't needed and he came back, grinning like the Cheshire cat, with news that we were moving to a far nicer, and far larger, room poolside! Go B!

We set off to breakfast feeling much lighter - even more so when we saw our hotel was right on the beach and every morning we would be treated to a view of the sparkling Aegean ocean whilst stuffing our faces with olives, feta, omelets and enough fruit to sink a ship. Lush doesn't even begin to describe it.

 

We ran back to our room, anxious and fraught with indecision about whether to go poolside or sit on the beach - you've got to love a holiday! This became our biggest issue each day, as well as where to have dinner. We settled on poolside and quickly established a routine which saw Mum get up early, pop the towels out in 'our spot', before coming back to bed. We'd then meander for brekkie at around 9.30am, before lolling the two metres back to the pool where we would spend the day sunning ourselves like a walrus. The days were broken up with lilo races, ice-cream runs (magnum beyaz was the preferred choice) and of course lunch at our hotel. Our itinerary then saw us head back to the pool to repeat the above. We were averaging a book each every 1.5 days! As I type this I can still smell the air - lush.

The nights were spent first comparing the level of tan acquired that day, before we set off for dinner. We took it in turns, being harassed by restaurant owners, negotiating deals, and then rating each other’s choices. One factor remained the same across the week - we were always sitting at a table on the beach, just centimeters away from the sea. Brad came out on top, choosing an absolute gem down the other end of the beach, which we went back to several times.

 

 

That's not to say we didn't venture out and do things - far from it. We managed to get ripped off by a camel man, Mum won a ring, we were dragged into a belly dancing lesson with a transvestite, smoked shisha like locals, as well as took a trip around neighbouring Bodrum. We had event-filled evening trips to town every night, shopping, haggling, witnessing an almost stabbing, leaving sunglasses and then sunscreen at a neighbouring shop then having to return shame-faced two nights in a row after we told the shopkeeper to stick his deal... Our trip was filled with many funny moments and mini-adventures that see me still smile.

We speculated over a family we called the Welshies, wondering how this bizarre mishmash of people were connected. We amused ourselves for days, making up stories and analyzing their every move, only to learn on the last day that the ‘daughter’ and ‘father’ were actually in a relationship, holidaying with his sister and her family. The judgment and people watching didn’t stop there – no one escaped our daydreaming and speculation. There was the sweet Italian family, the skanky Lebanese, the attention seeking Germans etc – all names we gave to innocent holiday-goers! We ourselves didn’t escape the speculation and on the last day we were told by the Welshies that they’d been trying to pick our accents all week. The fun to be had when people watching – the truth never quite lives up to the daydream!

Our week in Turkey was like balm for the soul and just what the doctor ordered! The only thing I would have changed was the time - one week just wasn't enough!

 

 

xx

Ma mere en Paris

It has been a long time in between drinks - partly due to the fact we have cut down the travel somewhat, but also given the fact life has been passing by on super speed lately and we haven't had time to blog about those few trips we have had... One of which was a lovely and leisurely long weekend to Paris back in May, where Brad and I spent an extended bank holiday weekend soaking up the Parisian sun and seeing the more local side of Paris - the roads less travelled! After a very perfect weekend, where we stayed in an apartment overlooking St Germain-des-Pres, inspiration struck and while I was still in Paris, I booked a return journey for Mum and me for when she was to be visiting in August.

Doesn't time fly? In what felt like weeks, Mother Duck stepped out of the arrival gates dragging a rather belligerent suitcase! We had a lovely few days in London, before jetting off to Cornwall, the picturesque coast of South-West England for the weekend, where we seal-watched, fed wild ponies and spent hour after hour in the penny arcades! After another day in London, we were off - destination Paris, centre ville sil vous plait!

Our journey began early, catching the 7.01am train out of Kings Cross and two hours later we arrived! Having stayed previously, I was an old hat at navigating the metro and we arrived in St Germain with plenty of time to enjoy a croissant and coffee. After re-meeting Vincent, our 'landlord', we set off for what ended up being 11 hours, slowly meandering our way along the river Seine.

 

 Given most Parisians flee Paris for August (taking a summer vacation is very important to them), the banks of the Seine had been turned into a bit of a beach, with deck chairs and restaurants dotted along the walk. We stopped for lunch at one of these, which is where Mum experienced her first taste of the real Paris - the one you don't see in the movies. Arrogant waiting staff, meat so rare it’s bleeding, as well as people smoking like chimneys all around us. I'm used to it now, but remember being shocked at the amount of smoking in Europe when I first arrived - as was Mum! We kept trucking our way along the river, stopping every so often for photos at the countless sights and landmarks along the way, before arriving at our destination - le tour d'Eiffel!

Mum isn't good with heights and neither one of us is a fan of queues which extend for hours, so we decided to forgo going up. I'd been up it before and while it is a neat experience, I think the biggest joy comes from seeing the skyline of Paris avec the Eiffel Tower, which you can't see when up it obviously! Instead we walked across to Trocadero where we sat and people watched, before posing for photo after photo.

 

 

We carried on, stopping to buy fresh nectarines from a stall nearby, before we arrived at the Arc de Triomphe and continued down along Champs Elysees.

P

rior to departure, I'd reached out to my Parisian friend, Laetitia, to get an idea of ubiquitous French cafes, where we could enjoy a classic French afternoon tea - she delivered, sending me through option after glorious option! We stopped at the flagship store of perhaps the most iconic macaroon house, Laduree, where we sat down and gorged ourselves on delicious bite after bite. The place was so luxurious and decadent that after our feast, we set off to explore the venue... Leading to this photo... Mother Duck planking at the finest establishment in Paris! You can take the girl out of Hamilton...

 

 

We continued on our merry way stopping at shop after shop along what is the second most expensive shopping strip in the world, second only to Fifth Ave in NYC. We worked up an appetite soon enough and stopped for lunch at a lovely roadside bistro - queue more people watching! After eating our fill, we continued on our merry way before arriving at Place de la Concord, a pretty public park at the end of the Champs Elysees, separating the street from the Louvre. This place is just gorgeous and perfect for people watching - we sat down at the edge of the pond, had a gander, before I had us up and at it again, this time in the direction of a giant Ferris wheel I'd spotted.

 

Avid blog readers will be aware that Mum is terrified of heights - a fear which came to a head the last time she was in France, at the Christmas markets in Lille, when we forced her to go on the Ferris wheel there. For some reason, unbeknown to me, she reluctantly agreed, which is how we found ourselves standing in queue (20€ later - robbery!) being sexually harassed by a gypsy carnival boy, before we set off into the Parisian night sky. As suspected, Mum started to panic two metres into the journey and while I had a wee chuckle at first, it soon became clear this wasn't a laughing matter, and we spend the duration of the trip in silence, interrupted by only the occasional squeak from Mum, and the flash of my camera as we took in the sights.

 

 

Safely on terra firm, we were able to laugh about it (Mum actually thought she was going to soil herself!) and giggled all the way back to the apartment - although it has to be said, she was perhaps a little less enthusiastic than I.

The next morning we pulled together a plan - breakfast/ morning tea at a glorious patisserie, again recommended by Laeti, followed by a walking tour. The night before we'd decided to give it a go as while I was confident in my ability to navigate my way through the city, I couldn't answer the barrage of questions from Ma as we took in the sights - best to hear it from the experts. Although let’s face it, I’m sure you’ll all agree I am a bit of a know-it-all.

So after another glorious meal, we set off to the Latin Quarter (right by our apartment) to kick off the tour at the Hotel des Invallides. The tour took us through much of the sites we had seen the day before, but this time with valued insight from a born and bred Parisian with an American accent - slightly disconcerting!

 

When our tour finished up, wet and exhausted, we walked back to the apartment for a half hour lie down, before we jumped on the metro and headed to Montmarte for a look around Sacre Couer, before our show started at the.... Moulin Rouge! The Sacre Couer was fabulous, but sadly dinner was not and while we had a nice time people watching, only one of my three courses actually arrived. On the bright side at least Mum got to experience the classically arrogant French waiter!

 

 

 

The 9pm session of the Moulin Rouge had sold out and despite getting there an hour early, the place was absolutely packed and we were stuck queuing outside. Paris in August - not recommended if you want to see the sights! We eventually got in and had great seats right at the edge of the stage, although I was occasionally hit in the face with the flick of a feather boa! We weren't allowed to take pictures, but suffice to say you really do understand what all the hype and history is about. It was a phenomenal show! The evening ended up being a bit of a late one for us as after getting a taxi home, we stopped off at a neighbouring bar for un verre du rose and chocolate fondant.

We woke up the next morning with regret at having to leave that day. There were so many things we didn't do, yet we didn't regret a second of our time there! Our day started with breakfast at our local croissanterie, where we set off for the Notre Dame to pay it a visit. We happened to get rather side tracked by a gorgeous boutique clothing store and an hour later, weighed down with bags, we toddled off for the Notre Dame.

When we arrived, we sat down outside to soak it all up - the sheer grandeur of the place, the huge crowds and the heat of the sun all came together rather nicely to make for a relaxing buzz. It was while we were people watching that we noticed a quirky wee man mixing and mingling amongst the people, popping up and giving them a fright, photo-bombing and generally just having a grand old time. It wasn't long before the whole seating area was enthralled with his activity. It became clear, when he pulled out a mask, that he was a busker and it wasn't long before half an hour past while we were caught up in his hilarious antics.

 

The crowd responded generously - it was just so funny and refreshing. He was doing all sorts, such as pushing the girlfriend out of the way and holding a man's hand, walking with him for quite some way before the man noticed and screamed in fright - hilarious!

 

We then slowly wandered our way back to our apartment, enjoying a bite to eat in the sun before regretfully heading to the station to say au revoir!

 

A perfect wee trip, which will stay in mind for a very long time thanks too many happy memories! Paris is a beautiful city and the more I spend time there, the more I love it. I am still a London girl through and through (there’s no better city in the world), but I really do get what all the fuss is about. Spending a gorgeous weekend in spring there with Brad, followed by a trip with Mother Duck, has made me all the more a fan. Now you lot better come over, so we can have our own Parisian adventures!

 

Xx

New York you Sick Son of a Bitch!

 

Hot on the heels of Isle of Skye, was an unexpected, but positively delightful trip to New York for work. Of course, given it was for work I undoubtedly spent a large portion of my time in the US of A, working sadly, but thanks to a few early starts and a Saturday in the land of the free, I did get to see a fair bit of the city. Not surprisingly – I absolutely loved it and cannot wait to go back. I’d move there in a heartbeat!

 

 

I landed on the Monday amidst a snow storm, so unfortunately for me that meant massive delays with my taxi journey, as well as missing the iconic view of the skyline as we came over the bridge – I couldn’t so much as see my hand in front of me. All in all this gave the whole experience a rather surreal feel and after I had unpacked and made it as far as the hotel bar to catch up with my two favourite colleagues, I still didn’t quite believe I was there. As you all know, it has been a rough and very crazy six months at work, so I was dying to see my counterparts… Which goes someway to explaining our night of champagne, chatter and giggling like hyenas. It was WONDERFUL to see them.

 

The next morning the snow had somewhat settled so I was able to get a small sense on where I was – the American flags gracing the top of every rooftop certainly hammered this point home! It wasn’t at all what I expected – sure there were NYPD cars and yellow taxis everywhere, as well as billboards advertising 1800 Cop Shot, where you get a reward for dobbing in people who shoot cops (have you ever heard of such a thing?); but it was also fairly spacious, urban and quite grungy. We were staying in TriBeCa, which was right up my street and it was just a quick walk to the office, which seemed to border Soho – that said, it seems to me that areas of NY are simply different streets and one building could be explained as falling under three different areas, depending on your mood.  Just nitpicking in my opinion!

 

It was fantastic to be there – I mean really, really great. I spent the entire four days bonding with colleagues, giggling with my team and really soaking everything up.

On one of the mornings, Sarah and I got up early to go for a run through the city – the perfect opportunity to actually see some of the city. It was an amazing experience as we ran past the World Trade Centre, the Hudson River, Statue of Liberty, Wall Street etc. In fact, we spent the entire time laughing like loons – partly because it was so fricken cold, but mostly because we genuinely found everything hilarious. To the point where colleagues look wide-eyed at us throughout the week saying they found it difficult to connect with us, as we just wanted to laugh at each other. I even ran with my hair in its naturally bouffant state but this just added to the whole experience – you can do anything in NY and people just smile!

 

 

 

Every night we were out, whether that meant visiting New York’s oldest bar, gracing glamorous cocktail bars with friends, or going out in the too-cool-for-school Meat Packing district where we danced in gangster bars and laughed all the more. I don’t know how we survived on next to no sleep. We barely ate either come to think of it – it was like an amazingly, surreal and altogether fabulous experience.

Saturday was spent, laughing (shock) as we shopped continuously, picking up lipstick after lipstick, visited Times Square, Central Park, Bergdorf etc – all the sites, before I, very reluctantly, went back to the hotel to collect my bags and head to the airport for my overnight flight. On a brighter note, I flew out of a different airport, so can say I’ve technically been to New Jersey as well as New York. Sadly, there were no sightings of the Jersey Shore crew. I can  claim to have seen Beyonce and Jay-Z’s apartment as it is right opposite the office – woop woop.

 

 

 

 

Everything about New York is fabulous, the city, the shopping, but most of all the people – they’re the perfect side of friendly, yet hilariously aggressive. That said, while I’d love to live there, I’m not sure I could handle it. Some people just can’t hack that city and the same can be said for me - so much so that on Saturday morning I woke with this horror of horrors! A trip to the opto and doctors revealed it was a hemorrhage from coughing too hard and promptly wrote me off work with a chest infection, as well as being severely run down. I can’t blame this on New York, but I’d do it all again in a heartbeat – despite the fact it took three weeks to heal. Eek!

 

Much love

xxx

Skye High

It comes as no surprise that we were very keen to return to Scotland, after our initial road trip coming up three years ago, as well as a few other trips to the bonny land for good measure (or 30+ for Brad given he used to work up there often).  So when Cara announced she was coming over to visit us and was keen to head to Scotland for the first time, we jumped at the chance and knew immediately we were keen to head out West. Last time we met a delightful wee Scotsman who told us to get out West as fast as we could and even better, if we could head to the Isles. The trouble is with the nearest airport being Glasgow or Inverness; the Isle of Skye (recently voted the third best island in the world) isn’t exactly accessible. Not one to let this stop us, we arrived into Glasgow Friday night, met Cara at the airport, who had flown out earlier that morning, and set off for Oban – a three hour drive away. We had been to Oban before and loved it and given it is relatively close to Skye, we thought it would be a nice place to stop for the night and show Cara. Brad did a great job navigating tiny rural roads in the early hours while Cara and I dozed, so before we knew it we were in Oban.

The next morning after an inclusive breakfast overlooking the ocean, we packed up the car and hit the streets for an hour, wandering around and showing the place to Cara. Oban is a gorgeous wee town, right on the ocean, with the most delicious seafood – including the best mussels I have still had to this day.

 With a three hour drive ahead we hit the road, only to find ourselves stopping every few minutes for photos. The Scottish landscape is so stunning, especially when you’re surrounded by the snow-covered highlands – cést beau! One of the most memorable stops was at Fort William where we thought we’d stop for a quick photo of Ben Nevis – the highest mountain in Scotland – when we were distracted by the most beautiful Highland Cows ever! We spent about 15 minutes feeding these gorgeous wee devils, taking photos and petting them. I love these cows – they’re so cute and make me want to become vegetarian!

 

Poor Brad was driven mental by Cara and I for the next two hours as we screeched for him to pull over every two seconds for another photo. Sitting in the car then jumping out proved to be bad for the body temperature as it was absolutely freezing outside – a harsh reminder that we were still in the middle of winter!

 

 

We stopped for lunch at a gorgeous wee roadside hotel/ pub, home to over 200 types of whiskey, and in true Taylor-Hollard style, we stuffed our face despite not even being slightly hungry. Not to let this stop us, we carried on only to pull over a few hundred metres up the road when we spied the postcard Isle of Skye view in front of us – Eilean Donan Castle. Nek minute... photo shoot.

 

 

We soon crossed over the bridge to the Isle of Skye, where we had an easy drive to our gorgeous wee hotel right in the city (and I use that term loosely) Portree. We had a huge room to share and after a quick rest, we set off on foot to explore the gorgeous wee town, which sits right on the harbour and is as quaint as can be.

 

 

That night we nestled down and had a delicious dinner in our hotel, which actually doubled as a bustling restaurant for the locals, before retiring up to bed where I stayed awake all night reading then coughing – lovely! 

After a restless night sleep for me and a lengthy sleep for Brad and Cara, we had a delicious breakfast of salmon/ Scottish breakfasts for the Hollards, fuelling our bodies for a gorgeous day of sightseeing. To say it was chilly, is a bit of an understatement, but we braved the weather and drove all around the island, stopping to take in the breathtaking views wherever possible, including a crazy reverse waterfall where the wind was so intense that it blew water straight up the cliff, resulting in a high pitched noise, alongside gustily sprays.  So amazing! It was also a spot where Scottish dinosaur remains were found, so there we go!

 

 

We drove around for a few hours before heading back to Portree for some hot chips and chocolate, followed by a quick nap at our hotel. Just getting plenty of rest for an afternoon session at a pub we had been told about by our hotel, where we drank a few pints while watching local musicians play up a storm. In fact some of them played so intensely they knocked glasses off the table with the vibrations! It was pretty spectacular and there wasn’t a tourist in sight so it felt pretty neat... Even when a toothless family came in and had a few drinks. I don’t want to judge, but why they wouldn’t get this sorted I’ll never know – especially in the UK where dental work is government funded and they’d sort you out with a spanking new pair of teeth for a few bob. How it even gets to the stage where all of your teeth rot is beyond me. Surely when one tooth started to go a bit funky you’d question your dental hygiene practices? Come on people – it’s not hard! Brush twice daily and floss – where’s the secret?

 

Another cosy dinner at our hotel and we slept soundly.

 

The next morning, after a hearty breakfast of Scottish oats, we reluctantly packed our bags and set off beneath a gorgeous bright blue sky, but a biting temperature to accompany it! We had a full plan for the morning and wanted to explore a particularly picturesque part of the island, home to the famous Tallisker Whiskey distillery.

 

We found our way, after stopping every few minutes to grab a photo of the gorgeous view, and despite the early hour we sucked it up and had a few cheeky sips of whiskey. Well Brad did, while Cara and I gagged our way through ours – gak!

 

 

We set off in search of the infamous Fairy Pools, which we had all read a bit about, but their location was relatively undercover. We ended up taking a wrong turn, which turned out to be a very right one when we found ourselves at a little tea room, which was actually someone’s living room, with a beautiful view overlooking the mountains. Not only did we get to feast on delicious homemade cake, but the owner gave us explicit instructions on how to find the pools while we looked at his various photos of the island and the wildlife. He was a budding photographer so it was a real treat to check out his amazing work, while we ate his wife’s amazing chocolate cake!  Don’t mind if we do kind, elderly couple!

 

Thanks to the instructions, we soon found ourselves at the Fairy Pools, which, oh my god, words cannot express how cool these were. We parked the car, in awe of the view ahead of us – a huge field with snow-covered mountains in the distance, with a dusty trail encouraging us to venture on down the hill in search of the pools.  We eagerly followed, enjoying the blustery cold and fresh mountain air – it was the kind of weather that makes you feel very alive. Perfect! We all ran around a bit like headless chickens for the first half hour really, not yet at the fairy Pools, but blown away by the view, as well as sugared up from the cake, torn between soaking it all up and taking photos! It was an adventure in itself just getting there.

 

 

Cue more frantic ‘OMG, OMG’ cries from us all as we saw how beautiful these wee rock pools beneath the mountains were. Apparently in summer you can somehow swim between pools into underground caves – I can’t imagine how and given the pools were iced over we certainly weren’t going to try it. Rather we spent a few hours running to and fro, taking photos of one another, as well as throwing little rocks into the pools and trying to break holes in ice. I amused myself for far too long, picking up pieces of ice from the pool and throwing them, watching them smash like glass. The end result was throbbing fingers, practically frost-bitten from the cold, as well as a bemused family who had been watching me smash ice for half an hour to no end of amusement.

 

 

 

Brad was even brave/ foolish enough to dip his entire head into the pool.

 

After a couple of hours we reluctantly had to drag ourselves away. A five hour drive awaited us, before a night flight out of Glasgow back to London. To make matters worse, we had started to hear rumours of intense snow storms in London, which we soon realised weren’t just rumours as we started to drive back and were met with flurries. Despite being here three years, snow is still somewhat of a novelty; however it’s safe to say that with the weather we’ve had this year, the novelty is definitely starting to wear off. Scared with a recent business trip to Madrid, where all flights back home were cancelled, ending in massive delays and diverted planes where I got home 12 hours later than expected, I was particularly concerned that we weren’t going to get home at all.

 

The drive went smoothly and we had a few breaks/ snow fights, thank you Brad, and we ended up back in Glasgow in perfect time. Just enough time to check in and realise that, lo and behold, our flight had been delayed by four hours. Cheers Easy Jet! With plenty of time up our sleeves, we sat down to the worst dinner we’d had in a long time, with truly the worst service. Service so bad they actually turned off the heating when we had just got our mains to try and hurry us out! They succeeded and we had a long wait at the airport, before we were finally able to fly out, far later than expected.

 When we landed in London in the early hours, we had a bit of a wait for the bust to take us back to the car park – a wait in an intense downpour of snow, where I started to realise that this was going to make my already mild flu/ cold quite a bit worse. Snow was coming down in huge chunks, but we eventually made it back home, with the hour drive taking quite a bit longer, so that by the time we got home there was hardly time to close my eyes before I was up again! That said, I wasn’t up for long and was soon back to bed with a feverish, aching cold that made me more than a tad grumpy! A rather unfortunate end, to a pretty perfect four day Scottish adventure! Worth every little bit of sickness though – the Isle of Skye is incredible!

xxxx