Rabat

For me the highlight of Rabat was the kasbah. This is the ancient fort of the city, at the edge of the medina, standing over the Atlantic. Its narrow streets of whitewashed and blue-trimmed houses wound towards the ocean in one direction and down to ornamental gardens in the other. It had a cool tranquility in the heat of the day and a very Mediterranean feel.

A walk back through the medina and then the new town took the four of us to Chellah, which is a ruined 14th century city containing the ruins of a Roman settlement. The ruins were pretty impressive, and the lack of information turned us all into archaeologists as we tried to work out what was what. This turned out to be a lot more interesting than reading all the answers in a guidebook and John, a history teacher, helped the more ignorant amongst us. There were tiny Roman bricks in a ranged of colours arranged to make a parquet floor, walls and pillars and drainage channels, arches, tombs and pools to wander round and walk on if you chose. The Islamic period mosque was fabulous and the minaret was topped with a stork's nest. Looking round, we spotted dozens of these nests on other bits of ruin and on treetops. Along with the clacking of the storks' bills there was the call of a bird I didn't recognise but it was the most unpleasant bird call I have ever heard, semi-human like some sort of mocking goblin.

Moroccan food is looking very promising – delicious tagine of lamb with prunes, some interesting salads and everything served with good bread and spicy thick tomato dipping sauce or a small dish of bean stew. And the French legacy of patisseries is hard to miss.

It's an organized tour!

Yes, an organized tour – a group, a guide, an itinerary... and off we go. Hopefully not too toury – it seems that the transport and hotels are all that is organized and the rest of the time we're free to do whatever. The travel is nearly all by public transport, buses and the rather impressive trains, so it sort of works out as group backpacking. I've managed to pair up with a cool Aussie room mate and most of the group should be good travel companions too. So here goes... and here's the map that I've unashamedly nicked from the tour company's website:

Morocco trip map

Casablanca

It was a bit like coming home. Casablanca reminds of Malaysian cities. The grubby bustle, friendly faces, desperate driving and kamikaze pedestrians. The faded, unloved lovely architecture, here a mix of Moorish, French colonial and art deco, is being overwritten by ugly shopfronts as its facade crumbles, just like the streets of Chinese shophouses in Malaysia.

Hassan II mosque is quite something. Built at the cost of half a billion somethings – I forget what – it is the third largest mosque in the world and the pride and joy of most of Morocco. Those who were displaced, uncompensated, when their homes were destroyed to clear the site are said to feel differently. As well as looking enormous, it managed to look both traditional and modern. Its size, decoration and design are quite awe-inspiring and fairly took my breath away.

Newcastle

Over the years I must have been through Newcastle a hundred times on the train. Well, quite a lot, anyway. And I love it. If I’m too buried in my book to notice that it’s time to look out at the Tyne bridges I feel cheated, short changed. So this week I decided to get off. You hear enough about Newcastle, I know it’s got coast and culture and bridges, and … a certain something. I was here once before, at the start of my Newcastle-Edinburgh cycle ride. I didn’t have time for sightseeing then.

I found myself a B and B in Whitley Bay, and started my Grand Tour with a walk out to St Mary’s Island and lighthouse, reachable at low tide by a short causeway. Fortunately, the tide was low. The wind cut icy slices off my breath.

Over the next two days I visited galleries, museums and bridges – including an extra riverside detour to see the Millennium bridge opening, tipping itself elegantly backwards over the river. I whizzed about by Metro, gaped at sculptures, grand buildings, cobbled streets and city walls and thought of Paul wandering this city and tried to remember what he wrote about being uplifted by it. I walked the seafront from Whitley Bay to Tynemouth and took a trip out to the Angel of the North, sat on its feet and marvelled at both how big and how small it was.

What a city! I can see why it’s been voted the country’s best. Or something like that. It gets my vote for sure. And no paragraph in praise of Newcastle would be complete without mentioning the people. They really are warm and friendly and open, they call you "Pet" and bizarrely this leaves you feeling rather chuffed.

London

Keswick, Cumbria

I booked a little photography holiday in the Lakes. It happened to coincide with the most amazing week of weather: sharply cold starry nights and bright cloudless days, the morning sun quickly melting the frost.

The photography course was a farce – the tutor did no teaching whatsoever. But the other students were a great group so despite the lack of a course, I really enjoyed these four days. Much merriment and mirth, and if the butt of the humour was mostly the tutor, well… that was to be expected. He was a dithering idiot who only sprang into life when we got off the bus and he legged it off into the distance to take photos on his own. Evening sessions were painful as he tried to get his slideshows to work. After two days he succeeded – only to show us some pretty shoddy images. "The point is," he explained, "these photos aren’t of slideshow quality." Quite why we were looking at them then, we never found out, and he never discussed a single picture he showed. The pinnacle of evening entertainment came the night we slipped out one by one, each new escapee being greeted with applause, laughter and a drink in the bar.

Just so you are warned, this was an HF holiday and the tutor’s name was David White. Some of my fellow students told me that HF’s other tutors are much better, so don’t let me put you off too much – apparently this David guy is well known as a hiccup in the system and yes, a waste of space.

But for me, the week wasn’t a total waste. I learnt lots from other course participants and saw some bits of the Lakes I hadn’t seen before. I made friends with some great people and had a laugh. Tried some very good local beers in delightful pubs. Realized I had learned something – that I’m a better photographer than at least one professional. And when the four days of the course were over I found myself a B and B in Keswick and treated myself to three fabulous days of walking.

Walla Crags, Derwentwater and Skiddaw were all interesting and scenic. Skiddaw was a hell of a steep climb on a very uninteresting path and coming back down was agony on the old knees – I had a sit down and thought of waiting for snow in the hope that I’d be able to slide, but as I said, the weather was just too good.

But the most stunning walk I could have hoped for was Wythburn to Rosthwaite - a route I conjured up from a promising bit of map combined with a bus timetable. My path followed Wyth Burn, climbing steadily over long grass, frozen bogs and the open landscape of the wide valley, with not another person in sight. The burn was half frozen, icicles hanging from every little drop and fall while the water rushed over or behind them. The crust cracked on the ground where I trod, steps crunching into softness. Leaving the burn, a steeper climb took me to Greenup Ridge, where the views both behind and ahead down the other side were breathtaking. There were quite a few people about on the ridge, breaking up my perfect solitude and silence, but even so the route down Greenup Gill could hardly be described as busy. The burn was frozen here too, as was the path wherever the water poured motionlesslessly down it.

This was my last day, appropriately, as I would have been hard pressed to better that day’s walk. A stunner.

View back down Wyth Burn, looking towards the start of my walk. To see some more of my Lakes photos, go to: http://www.flickr.com/photos/geckozo/sets/72157604140160557/ for a slideshow.

Winter in the Scottish Borders

The novelty of cold wears off fairly quickly, but not the novelty of frost or snow. What is it about snow that brings out the child in us? Or at least in me... and makes me rush to pull on boots and dash outside to kick through powdery piles of the stuff, scoop it into my mouth , take pleasure in leaving the first set of footprints.

We had a few good snowfalls over the new year and I enjoyed hours of peaceful solitude walking by the Tweed, listening to the tight brief creak of my own footsteps.

Leaving Malaysia

I fully expected it to be awful, but with the last minute rushes of packing, goodbyes and closing bank accounts I didn't have time to process the enormity of leaving. Equipped with enough hugs from Anna to protect me through the airport and beyond, I left KL. Even in Dubai I felt fine. Just travelling. That universal airport feeling, easy to associate it with good things.

But then, as the hours-to-go counted down on the in-flight info screen, the doom swelled heavily in my stomach. The hours trickled quickly into even more rapidly vanishing minutes. Heathrow in sight, I knew it wouldn't feel any worse if we were falling out of the sky with no engines or wings.

KL for Kids

Today I went to the launch of "KL for Kids" at Marmalade cafe in Bangsar. It was a friendly little affair and fairly well attended. The authors signed copies of the book and chatted to guests about their experience of making it.

This is an impressive book, not least due to the stunning photography of kids having fun in and around KL. It is easy to use and a pleasure to browse. The main places to go are given a lavishly illustrated double page spread, while other sections sum up lesser or more distant attractions and activities succinctly. The text is detailed in its information, both enthusiastic and realistic in its descriptions and hits the nail on the head with candid comments such as:

"It has some great flashes of genius coupled with a few dysfunctional gaps," (the National Science centre) and:

"Staff attitudes are a little haphazard," (Aquaria KLCC).

However, these are just points to be aware of - there's nothing in the book that the authors don't recommend. All the places who earned a
place in the book did so by providing children with an enjoyable experience.


I would heartily recommend the book to anyone with children, whether local, expat or tourists. It gives the details you can never quite track down elsewhere, such as prices, eating options and stroller access, along with the obviously necessary directions and opening hours. Best of all, through the lively text and fabulous photos it will inspire you to visit those places you've never quite got round to.

Pictured right: Lorien Holland (writer)

Pictured right: Kate Phillips (photographer)

"KL for Kids" goes on sale in local bookshops this week and is also available from http://www.amazon.co.uk/ and http://www.klforkids.com/