In which Layla and Roz do Mexico City

By Layla 

We touched down in Mexico City with pre-emptive "oh no, our holiday's nearly over" sorrow, but then realized it was only Friday, pulled ourselves together, went to a local deli for a cheer-boosting cake, then to a vegetarian taco place for lunch, and then took a cab through the horrible traffic and into the Centro Historico. 

We hopped out at this really cool pedestrian street called Calle Regina, full of hipster bars and cafés, and buildings with grass lawns and bicycles on their walls. Great fun. Then up to the main square, the zocalo, where we spotted buildings that feature in Barbara Kingsolver's The Lacuna. Next up, a visit to the obscure Museo del Estanquillo which featured political cartoons entirely indecipherable to us... But also a rooftop cafe with a really amazing view of brilliant adjacent rooftop architecture. We sat in the sun surrounded by cool buildings and read our books and felt very cheery indeed. 

Afterwards we kept walking, past a very cool building, the Palacio de Bellas Artes, across the pretty Centro Alameda Park, and then, ignoring Roz's previous quiet comment about a blister, for miles up Reforma Avenue, with the plan of walking all the way home to avoid the hideous traffic (we didn't live near a metro). Luckily we were diverted, first by a hipster type pizza and beer place, and then by a really brilliant bar called Gin Gin, where we imbibed some of the best cocktails we've had all year in the very cool surroundings of exposed brick, quirky lighting, and random decor. It was fab. And thus it took us rather longer to get home that we'd expected... But by the time we collapsed into bed, our Jawbone pedometers were very pleased with us indeed. 

They were even more pleased on Saturday. We walked through this huge, cool park called Chapultepec Park and then a ridiculously long way (at one point inadvertently arguing with a policeman to let us take a shortcut through what turned out to be the President's house...)  and eventually got to our destination: the bike tour office! Soon we were off, with a bizarre guide who had no road sense at all, down into the park, along Reforma, into the zocalo, and through the Zona Rosa, Roma and Condesa neighborhoods. My favorite part was going into a tiny hidden "auditory garden" which was like a little grotto, with music, lounging chairs, and a random selection of books for people to pick up and relax with. Delightful.

We loved the tour route, but given our guide's precarious cycling skills, we were relieved to get him back in one piece. Then we grabbed a cab to a very cool vegetarian cafe for lunch, the type with exposed brick, tables made out of reclaimed wooden doors, and all that hipster fun. Lunch was delicious. And we'd chosen it to be near the park we cycled past... Because I had spotted a rowing lake. I LOVE a rowing lake. Sadly, given the choice between a rowing boat and a pedal boat, I chose the latter as Roz had never been on one. The lake was brilliant, with lovely views, a fountain, and cafés on the waterfront - but I'd forgotten our legs had just done a 3 hour cycle! They protested bitterly, so eventually we conceded that they might deserve a rest, and instead we walked to the Modern Art museum. Some really cool things, including the famous Two Fridas painting. And a cool building too. We had a lovely hour wandering in the museum and sculpture garden before grabbing a cab back to our hotel. That evening how could we resist... We went back to Gin Gin. Mmmm. And then to a cool bookshop cafe. Before going home and admiring the 35,000 steps our Jawbones reported we'd taken that day. 

There is nothing more melancholy than the last day of a holiday. Especially when it has a weird ending: I had to leave for the airport at 11:30 while Roz stayed in Mexico for work for an extra few days. We determinedly got up early and were eating apple cake for breakfast in our local deli by 8:15. Then onwards to the park, where a stroll past a local Nike marathon, and through the park itself, returned us to the boating lake. This time we opted for a proper rowing boat, and had a really delightful hour rowing around the lake in the perfect sunshine. While we did so, the marathon ended and instead the road was closed to cars, and filled with bicycles. This was lovely, even if it did make it tricky to find a cab. But find one we did, and it was back to the hotel for brunch, before I bade a sad farewell to Roz and we got into separate taxis, mine to the airport and hers to another hotel, to start the work portion of her trip. But not before she fit in a final trip, taking a metro to Museo Soumayo, which she reported as quirky, cool art, with some enthusiasm for a Sophia Loren exhibition... 

And now I'm home in Washington while Roz prepares for her conference. We loved Mexico City. It's changed so much in the decade or so since I first visited. So many cool bars and restaurants. It feels much safer. And of course the brilliant park, great neighborhoods, fab museums... I hope I get to visit again soon! In the meantime, back to work. 

Books we read during our week-long holiday:

Roz: The Dog by Joseph O'Neill, Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes, Us by David Nicholls, The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell, and good progress into Tom Jones by Henry Fielding and The Lacuna by Barbara Kingsolver. 

Layla: The Rosie Effect by Graeme Simsion, Echo Boy by Matt Haig, The Sparrow by Mary Doria Russell, part of When You Are a Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris and most of The Bone Clocks by David Mitchell. 

In which Roz and Layla escape the chill, view ruins, and cycle through the countryside

We left you whilst we were in a cold cabin on a mountain. I coaxed the dying fire into life in an unexpectedly Boy Scout type fashion, and then challenged Layla to a game of Scrabble. I unfortunately made a child's error of helping her when she got stuck with one set of letters. My helping gave her more than 50 points...and I ended up losing the game. Not that I remain bitter at all. 

Next morning, we awoke distinctly chilly and were enthusiastic about getting out into the sunshine. A quick tasty breakfast and the we were off on a hike along a mountain woodland path. The path was delightful, if disappointingly undulating.  (Why do people always make undulating sound like a good thing, when what it really means is "there are going to be numerous bits where you are going uphill but all your efforts will be in vain as you'll then be going downhill"?). 8km later and we found ourselves in another village where we had been told we were going to get some kind of local massage. The local massage turned out to be a local sauna, and Layla doesn't really enjoy this sort of thing. So we negotiated, instead, for another local experience. We were unclear on what this would entail, but heard the word "massage" and "not hot" so what was to be lost. We were taken to a house in the middle of nowhere where we were greeted by a very bouncy and licky small dog and a cheery old lady who spoke no English. She sat us down in her living room (with the dog) and went off to get ready. Then she brought in a large pot of flowers which she put in the middle of the room. And then she left to get two eggs and a glass of water. She returned and indicated that she was ready. I unfairly pushed Layla into a standing position and indicated she would go first. I then had the delight of watching Layla being beaten with a large bunch of flowers and then being "massaged" with an egg which the old lady rubbed with surprising vigor all over her body. I was clear that the lady would have been offended if I'd laughed...and in any event Layla soon had her revenge as she sat there smiling smugly whilst I was beaten and then egg massaged. At the end she broke the eggs into the glass of water, pointing to the toxins and evil eye she'd removed. 

A surprisingly delicious roadside lunch proved something of an anticlimax but was nonetheless enjoyable. We then managed to hop on a crowded bus which took us cheaply and efficiently back to Oaxaca. Incongruously, I watched the Mexican scenery whizz by whilst listening to Fielding's Tom Jones (set in 18th century England) whilst Layla slept, but all in all a relatively pleasant time was had. Back in Oaxaca, our first stop was a shower, to get rid of the flower remnants (and indeed because neither of us had fancied a cold shower that morning). From there we went back to our favourite cafe/bookstore (and had an interesting interlude phoning man who is doing a job that I might be taking and then speculating about what that turn in our life would be like). From there we went to a very well reviewed vegetarian restaurant which would have been lovely he it not been entirely deserted and somewhat spartan. Nonetheless, we pressed on and had a brief meal before retiring to a nice nearby bar for a beer. 

Next morning, after breakfast we hopped in a taxi to go to some ruins at a place called Monte Alban - the remains of the first known city state, perched at the top of a hill. I expected the site to be entirely overrun, and so it was a delightful surprise to find only a scattering of tourists. A delightful two hours passed with us rambling over ruins, up ancient steps and examining the odd carving. We stopped midway for a read in the shade and this too was entirely delightful. 

Back in Oaxaca, we had lunch in the main square and read our books. We contemplated afterwards that we didn't feel entirely brilliant (too much food? After effects of beating with flowers? Stress of potential new job?). We therefore went on a gentle stroll through the streets (mainly in hopes of finding a swimming costume for me - an aspiration that was disappointed) before returning to our hotel to sit on the nice rooftop area and read. As evening approached, neither of us fancied food, so we decided to head into the suburbs of Oaxaca to go to the cinema to the see the new Hunger Games. We arrived early (uncertain whether it would end up entirely sold out or not) and so having bought tickets went to a nearby cafe for a mint tea. The film was good, albeit involving too much peril for my taste. It's always fun to see films in a foreign country and this was no exception - the audience was struck by laughter at inexplicable moments, and the Spanish subtitles didn't look that off to us...

Next morning, we awoke with an enthusiasm for breakfast and went to our favourite cafe again. Then, it was time for a bike tour. It turned out to be our most delightful day so far. A short drive took us into the mountains, where we got off in a picture perfect village which was home to one of the biggest trees in the world (surrounded by crazy topiary bushes). Then we hopped out our bikes and headed off, cycling on dirt tracks through tiny villages and past fields, sharing the path only with passing cows and an occasional donkey-drawn cart. The  temperature was glorious with a perfect blue sky and hills silhouetted all across the horizon. It was entirely delightful and our biking guide (who later turned out to have competed in the Olympics) was entirely kind about the slightly slower pace than one of us wished to go at. (I'm definitely not pointing a finger at Layla...) We then had a a stop for a weaving demonstration. Over the years, we have seen quite a few of these but this was probably one of the best, including a demo of how to create different colour dyes ("it's like magic" one of us said). Then more cycling interspersed with stops for delicious fruit. Then, back into the van for a drive high up into the mountains. Here we had lunch (our best meal in Mexico so far, with beautiful quesadillas made in front of us). And then on to Hierve el Agua, a place Layla visited ten or more years ago. Here we were left to our own devices and we went hiking to beautiful pool which were on the top of remarkable petrified waterfalls. Though the hike was more undulating than either of us would have liked, it was also beautiful. Layla ended up swimming in one of the pools. I had contemplated doing so (despite my lack of swimming costume - I'd cobbled together something that would keep me decent) but the water really was very chilly...and I mentally justified this decision by pointing out someone needed to keep an eye on our bag. We hiked back to the van afterwards (Layla shivering). Our drive home was pleasing enough, with an interlude involving giving a lift to an ancient Mexican who wanted to go to a hospital clinic and a stop to see Mezcal being made. (Mezcal,is the local spirit - a cousin of tequila I think.) Back in Oaxaca, we went back for a shower (and for Layla to defrost) before going out for a light dinner in a very cheery restaurant which was full of people. And then bed: an early start to return to Mexico City tomorrow. 

In which Layla and Roz eat guacamole, hike, and realize the Mexican mountains are chilly

By Layla 

We touched down in Mexico City not quite sure what to expect. I'd been there ten years ago, and Roz never had - but it doesn't get the best of press. So we were delighted to find the city looked charming as we whizzed through it (or rather crawled - the traffic is unpleasant) en route to our hotel in the pretty Condesa District. We dropped our stuff and took another taxi, this one to Frida Kahlo's blue house, where she lived and worked. The queue was crazy but eventually we got in for a cup of tea, a stroll round the pretty gardens, and then a walk through the house itself, complete with furniture, wheelchair, and her actual paints. It was all quite cool. Then we walked a few blocks away to Trotsky's house, which we admired from the outside. A stroll down to the Coyocan area's main square was atmospheric and a bit frantic, but it did not produce guacamole, so we took a taxi back to Condesa and indulged in a pre-prandial guac and chips and some pretentious locally brewed craft beer, before later heading to a fancy and pleasant restaurant for mohitos, cheese and salad. 

Up very bright and early, we headed back to the airport, bound for Oaxaca (we'd planned to go straight after arrival but flights only go in the mornings) and we arrived there in time for lunch - a far cry from the last time I got there on a million-hour long distance bus. Oaxaca is sunny and charming in an Antigua, Guatemala sort of way. Pretty cathedrals and art galleries abound. After checking in and sorting out a bike trip for later in the week, we fought our way through the stressfully busy zocalo market (zocalo is a town square here), onto an attractive pedestrian street, and had lunch in a cute little courtyard attached to a bookshop. 

Onwards after lunch to the contemporary art museum which was okay but not thrilling, then I took Roz on this big walk up a thousand very steep steps for no particular reason... The view from the top was pretty... And then, having climbed down again, we wandered around a very attractive cobbled area with pastel colored buildings, before returning to the zocalo in search of a beer. We failed and Roz fell over something and whacked her knee. We limped back to our hotel, dripping blood, and spent the rest of the afternoon having drinks and reading our books on the hotel patio amid a hundred tweeting birds in a vast array of cages. 

That night I rather failed to find a good, open restaurant in what's known as a foodie town. We went to La Catedral and had Oaxacan fare. The cheese was delicious. The corn tamale was to my taste - all the more for me. But then we had 'mole amarillo', a famous type of sauce usually served over beef, apparently. We said we were vegetarian. This resulted in us being given a plate of sauce with nothing in it, save a single tiny potato... And we were charged the same price as for the beef version! Huffily we returned to the zocalo where everyone seemed to be out, watching boys do crazy tricks on BMX bikes and that sort of thing. And then headed home to sleep, to the tones of cheering crowds below. 

Up early again (5:30 every day, inexplicably), we got breakfast in the same place as lunch the previous day, our new local. Then we headed to a tour office for instructions, trekked to an obscure bus station, and caught a shared car to Llano Grande, holding more people than cars are designed to hold... There are a collection of little villages in the Sierra Norte, the mountains near Oaxaca, who have banded together to offer ecotourism experiences. We had decided to do a trek between them. We were assigned a cabin in the woods, and then set off with our guide on a 3 hour hike. It turned out to be quite a tricky hike, uphill with the altitude making me wheeze (that's my story and I'm sticking to it!) but it was fun going through the pine forest, and there were some cool views. 

Afterwards we went to a little restaurant for quite a nice lunch involving eggs and avocado. And then, having acquired some beer, ventured to our cabin. It is truly in a crazy, secluded, off the beaten path location but we finally made it and lounged in hammock chairs overlooking the woods... Til it started to get cold. To be aware: the temperature in Oaxaca is not similar to the temperature in the mountains. We retired inside to sit on our bed. Then under the covers. Then to go out for dinner, donned every single clothing item we'd brought with us, including pajamas. Brrrrrr. Luckily one of the guides came to make a fire for us and we followed him in the pitch blackness through the woods to dinner in the same restaurant. Which was rather disappointing as well as deserted and freezing. But we had a cheery dinner of cheese quesadillas and hot chocolate anyway! Before holding hands and gripping the torch function of my iPhone and setting off in the pitch black wood to our cabin. We reached it just as the fire was dying. But then as I've been writing this blog, Roz has magically made it come to life again and it is roaring merrily now. Hooray! I'm still planning to wear every item of clothing to bed but I'm not fearing hypothermia. Tomorrow: hiking to the next village. 

In which Roz and Layla drink cocktails, and go to Fringe Festival in Victoria, and Bumbershoot Festival in Seattle

By Roz

It was undeniably cool to arrive in Victoria by helicopter. Less cool was dragging our suitcases from the shuttle bus down various deserted roads into the suburbs of Victoria and wondering what we'd been thinking when we'd booked this AirBnB flat "near Cook St Village"'.. A thought that became all the more pressing when I realized that our flat was up three narrow flights of stairs. There is a lesson in here somewhere. Probably to pack less. But the flat turned out to be lovely inside and at various points over the next few days staying in it, we mused vigorously on how to emulate its coziness and general delightfulness. Without success I fear. 

Having dumped our stuff we headed out to acquire groceries and for a mini explore of the area. It turned out that we had parked ourselves in a suburb which could be described as a village if you interpret that as meaning "has a shop or two within a ten minute walk". Alas. We picked up groceries and more medications for me (I am fast becoming a very bad patient, and require Layla to think of medications to fix me, given her doctoring background: this is proving an expensive hobby on this holiday at least). This accomplished, we headed out to dinner at the delightful Little Jumbo, which turned out to be one of the top 30 restaurants in Canada. Slightly hard to find, with cool lighting and terrific cocktails, it proved to be a delightful introduction to Vancouver Island. 

Next morning the weather looked gloomy, but our depression at this was soon dissipated by the discovery that our visit to Victoria co-incided with the Victoria Fringe Festival. Layla handed me multiple apple devices and a credit card and instructed me to "book things". Somewhat restrainedly, I only booked three shows but musing on the options in our delightful flat almost distracted me from moaning about my cold and bites, and thus was a sensible ploy by Layla. We headed out for an embarrassingly early lunch which involved walking to the other bit of the "village". Lunch was delicious - and in a surprisingly popular venue - and we meandered from there downtown taking a very circuitous route along the water. This all proved picturesque and lovely but in true English fashion I then began to demand afternoon tea. We popped into the Empress hotel - which is famed as the place to go for afternoon tea - and then fled when we heard it was going to cost us $60 each. We ended up on the hotel's verandah overlooking the sea. Tea was provided (with the tea bag already in the teapot - Canadians having learned this key skill from us in a way Americans have resisted). Also cake. And I very much enjoyed the opportunity to focus on my book (the new Sarah Waters) whilst Layla finally finished Steinbeck's East of Eden. All in all very enjoyable. 

From there we headed back to see our first fringe festival show (in an area quite close to our flat, which we saw was described as in the "boonies" by one reviewer). It was a one woman show about roller derby and though not earth shattering, was very jolly. We went from there to an Indian restaurant for dinner and from there to our second fringe show. This proved to have been a poor pick. It was well done, if you like somewhat facile physical farcical comedy, but wasn't to my taste. With my cold feeling ever more oppressive I nudged Layla and persuaded her to make a speedy exit at an opportune moment. We headed back to our flat and watched a jolly episode or two of Community on Netflix before retiring to bed. 

Next morning I felt little better and Layla had begun sneezing and rain had made its appearance. So we took this as fate telling us to settle down in our lovely flat for the morning to read our books. We eventually headed out for a huge egg-focussed lunch downtown which also involved a little Fringe-based bonding with a fellow diner. From there we went to hire bikes and headed out on the Galloping Goose trail into the countryside. This was often delightful - mainly flat and sometimes in countryside and sometimes by the water. But. Then - after around 15km - we found ourselves on a trail surrounded on both sides by a freeway. We looked at the map and realized this would continue for a while and so decided to beat a hasty retreat. Or as hasty a retreat as one can when needing to traverse 15 or so km. 

Having dropped off our bikes, we headed to Chapters, a nice looking bookshop that I had noticed. We browsed, felt guilty at not buying books (but the DC library is so good!) and then settled down in the bookshop cafe for a tea and a read. Or, in Layla's case, a cake-pop and a snooze. After this delightful interlude we headed back to Little Jumbo for an early dinner before our final fringe show. The restaurant was as lovely as ever - and we were greeted as regulars - and we therefore felt not too bad to be revisiting a place we'd been to before. And I felt the cocktails were definitely medicinal. 

Our final fringe show (The Middle of Everywhere) proved to be really excellent: set at a bus stop (what could be better?!), it was almost exclusively mime, and all the more impressive given that the performers wore masks and managed to convey far more story than I could have imagined possible. An excellent conclusion to our interlude in Victoria (despite Layla's cold declaring victory in her battle to fight it off). 

Next morning, we were up fairly early - to pack and so that Layla could rehearse one of the upcoming performers in Perfect Liars Club - and we were then on the ferry to Seattle. This proved entirely delightful - what's not to like about a ferry from one country to another. And the mimosas were a pleasant addition...

And now by Layla

We were delighted to find a taxi waiting for us and before long we were in our downtown Seattle AirBnB apartment, which was quite cool. And then we were dashing out towards the cinema near the Space Needle - you see we'd identified a cool short films event from the Seattle International Film Festival. What their website failed to mention was that said cinema was within the walls of a big annual arts festival in Seattle called Bumbershoot. Much angst ensued, as we scrabbled for a plan B... It was already 4pm on the last full day of our holiday: we NEEDED a good plan. We looked up the festival and found it was quite full of good stuff, including The Moth. So we took a deep breath, bought the tickets, and headed to the films, only to find they were full. This was in fact the theme of Bumbershoot: stand in line for hours if you actually want to see anything. We failed on the films. We failed on two comedy shows. We managed to get in to see Tim Robbins, a local author clearly much beloved in Seattle (he wrote Even Cowgirls Get the Blues) who was quite cheery, reading the first page of each of his eleven published books. And then, after debating the merits of hiding in the toilet to sneak into the next show, Roz left early, zoomed into line, and secured our spots at what turned out to be the most expensive Moth show I've ever attended. But nevertheless, it was really good, with three thought provoking stories. We were very happy we'd managed to get in. 

After that, we fought our way out of Bumbershoot, and onwards to a really cool line of bars and restaurants which we had failed to encounter during our previous week in Seattle. Our destination: Bathtub gin, a cool little speakeasy bar down an alley. We had some delicious cocktails, then, irritated by the laddish drunk men trying to talk to us, decamped to RobRoy, another cocktail bar, then to a third establishment to add potatoes and ice cream to our repertoire. During the evening my cold was getting worse and worse, so I can't say I was too sorrowful when our final holiday night ended and we were obliged to collapse into bed. 

This morning we had difficulty finding anywhere for brunch thanks to it being Labor Day, but finally sated, we grabbed our suitcases and took an Uber to... Lake Union! Our flight might have been at 2pm, but the sun had popped out from behind the clouds and paddleboards awaited! Sure enough, we stepped onto the boards and started paddling up towards the scenic gasworks park. Which was when we started to realize the lake wasn't quite as relaxing as other lakes, thanks to the large number of boats going by, either trying to run us over or throwing us into waves in their wake. I've never been on such a precarious paddle! As we shrieked and dropped to our knees to avoid being unceremoniously dumped in the probably-toxic water of Lake Union, we looked back across the Seattle skyline. "Ah, isn't this idyllic," said Roz. Just before another huge wake threatened to topple us! 

But sadly all good things must come to an end. And so we paddled precariously back to the dock, called another Uber, and headed for the airport, homeward bound. Another amazing holiday!

BOOKS READ WHILST ON HOLIDAY

Roz: East of Eden (John Steinbeck), Anne of Green Gables (LM Montgomery), The Bees (Laline Paul), We Were Liars (E Lockhart), Euphoria (Lily King), Restoration (Rose Tremain), Crazy Rich Asians (Kevin Kwan), Music for Torching (A.M. Holmes), The Paying Guests (Sarah Waters). And substantial progress made with A Place of Greater Safety (Hilary Mantel) and Empress Dowager Cixi (Jung Chang). 

Layla: The Bees (Laline Paull), Euphoria (Lily King), The Provincial Lady (EM Delafield), Colourless Tsukuru Tazaki (Haruki Murakami), We Were Liars (E Lockhart), The Fault in our Stars (John Green), East of Eden (John Steinbeck), We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves (Karen Joy Fowler) and substantial progress into The Paying Guests by Sarah Waters. 

In which Layla and Roz emulate hipsters, race to the centre of a maze, and travel in style

By Layla

The sun was shining through our floor-to-ceiling windows as we leapt from bed for our first full day in Vancouver. Alas our apartment was not located next to a coffeeshop or supermarket so I went for a wander and eventually returned with a bagel. We breakfasted on our 32nd floor balcony, looking out over the city, before catching a bus to the gay-ish West End, in time for our city bike tour. 

We always love bike tours as a way to get a handle on a new big city, though this one turned out to be less illuminating... But still fun. We headed into Stanley Park, which is this huge city park that combines beach and forest, and tons of beautiful bike trails. We cycled round the 'sea wall' with fantastic views of the city and mountains and sparkling water and queues of container ships waiting for their slot at the port. We saw totem poles, and quirky statues, and a beaver dam. Then we zoomed out of the park and along the waterfront to a beach called English Bay, before catching a very tiny ferry across to Granville Island. Previously an industrial zone, it's now an artistic enclave with studios, shops, and a big market where we had lunch. Next, along yet another waterfront, False Creek - Vancouver seems to be mostly made of waterfronts! Past the Olympic Village from 2010, into a very pretty Chinese Garden, through Gastown, and back to the shop. A fun cycle, though we both got a little sunstroke. We bought some groceries and headed back home to recover (aka eat crisps and drink wine). 

Duly recovered, we found a bus and headed off to a more obscure part of town. Past some suburbs, it suddenly appeared: VanDusen Botanical Gardens. I have mixed feelings about this trip. On the one hand, these are probably my favourite botanical gardens I've ever visited. Beautifully landscaped, waterfalls and lakes, interesting sculptures, and an absolutely brilliant maze (many of you will be familiar with my penchant for a maze). It took ages for us to find the centre. When we did it competitively, Roz beat me by miles. Great fun. But sadly every insect in the park found its way to Roz and bit her all over. Each bite swelled to the size of her head. And she has spent the rest of the holiday in itchy pain. But at least the maze was amazing! 

After the gardens, we climbed up to the Queen Elizabeth Park viewpoint and had a fantastic panorama of the entire city, before descending to Vancouver's hipster Mecca, Main Street. Interspersed with pharmacies (for antihistamines), and Chinese establishment was every craft brewery, gallery, yarn shop, and cool coffeeshop that a hipster could desire. We tracked down Shameful Tikki Room, a very cool cocktail den, with some superlative cocktails in a quirky and charming setting, with Bride of Frankenstein playing on the little television screens. If I owned a bar I wouldn't mind it being like this. Then, on a whim, we decided to go to Acorn which turns out to have all these accolades as the top vegetarian restaurant in the country. We splashed out on an array of deliciousness, and got the bus home feeling very proud of ourselves - and very hip. 

The next day I'd slept okay but Roz was miserable, covered all over with bites, and a new sore throat to match. Any energetic plans had to be shelved and instead we went to Revolver, a very exposed brick-ish coffeeshop, where Roz was able to indulge in a coffee flight! We've had wine flights, beer flights, cheese flights, cocktail flights... But a coffee flight was a new and hilarious innovation. One type of coffee done three ways (drip, aero press and clever press, in case you wish to replicate!). It rejuvenated Roz enough that she was ready for some non-mosquito fun. And thus we went to the Vancouver Gallery of Art. 

We'd read some books by Douglas Coupland but hadn't realized he is an artist too. The museum had a big Coupland exhibition, and it was really, unexpectedly excellent. We loved much of his intriguing exhibits, which all comment on how we are in the 21st century. But by the end Roz looked like she might be about to die, so I left her in an uninspiring French coffeeshop with a sandwich while I went on a medication expedition. Having filled her with every decongestant, antihistamine and steroid cream I could get my hands on, we returned to the gallery to see the permanent collection. We were particularly taken with a Canadian artist called Michael Snow. 

Then we decided on an expedition to North Vancouver (a separate city!) by sea bus. So we boarded and crossed the water, to find ice cream and beer flights. Delicious. There wasn't much else though, so after a suitable amount of consumption, we returned home to gather our energy for the evening. Or Roz did - I ran around trying to find a fax machine for a work thing. 

Heading out, we had a half hour walk through Yaletown to a ferry terminal where we boarded and headed off to Granville Island again, to see Vancouver's improv troupe. First we had a quick dinner in the market and wandered around the arty establishments, then we procured some Granville Island craft beer, and then we settled down to what was a very funny and impressive improv show - a fantastic evening. Shame Roz felt like death and yet got dragged home on another ferry followed by another half hour walk... And a sleepless night for one of us. Not me. 

On our final Vancouver day, we dropped off our luggage, coated Roz in insect repellent, then headed to Stanley Park again, this time on foot. We strolled along the scenic sea wall til we got to the TeaHouse, a posh and lovely establishment where we indulged in mimosas and lunch. And then we walked back through the forest, huge trees all around us. During our bike tour they told us that there's a small movement for the North West parts of Canada and the US to form their own country called Cascadia, based on their tall trees that are nowhere else on the continent. We certainly could see the resemblance to Forest Park in Portland. It was a lovely walk. 

And then we took the bus to... The Heliport! You see, after Vancouver we'd planned to go to Victoria. I thought the ferry was an easy and pleasant option. But it turns out to be 50 miles out of town! Then we found that a helicopter goes straight from Vancouver harbour. Then we found that they had a special discount on Twitter. And then we realized that we'd both always wanted to ride in a helicopter. And we were in!

As a commuter mode of transport, the helicopter is surely one of the coolest available. We were given our earplugs, hopped into our window seats, and soon were smoothly pottering above Vancouver. We waved goodbye to it as we went out over the water to find views that demanded photographs. Half an hour later we touched down in Victoria. 

In which Layla and Roz travel by train, ski lift, paddleboard and trampoline

By Layla

After a frustrating 3 hour delay at the train station, finally we were off! Champagne glasses clinked in the observation car as our overnight VIArail train from Jasper to Vancouver started trundling through the Rockies. Roz and I both dream romantically of long distance train travel so we were fizzing with excitement. First lesson: people don't sit on their allocated seats but rather in the glass observation car or coffee car, where the views of the mountains were very cool. Second observation: there are drinks and snacks aplenty. Third: try not to get the late seating for dinner unless you want to eat at 10pm. Fourth: if you go to bed right after dinner, and are placed next to a snorer, there may be no sleep for you. Essentially, we had a fabulous time on the train. The views of the Rocky Mountains were spectacular, and we loved the novelty of sit-down meals on the train. Shame about Roz's lack of sleep. In the middle of the night she apparently stumbled from her berth to an empty cabin to escape the snorer... Only for a poor crew member to climb into that cabin bed in hope of a quick nap! It was not a restful night for her, and the arrival to Vancouver was a bit delayed, and it took ages to get our bags, but soon we were off on the Skytrain for a mad dash across town to the pick up point for our bus to our next destination: Whistler! (To add to the excitement, I'd failed to book it in advance...)

Whistler turns out to be less than 2 hours away by bus and we found it a surprisingly delightful little town. While Banff and Jasper felt like trading posts set up to tend to the adventurers passing through, Whistler is a town built with intent. The main business is skiing - though mountain biking is big. The town itself centers around an attractive pedestrianized shopping/restaurant precinct called the "Village Stroll", from which hiking and biking trails spread out, and a gondola sweeps you to the top of looming Whistler Mountain. After dumping our stuff in our pleasant hotel, we leapt in a taxi to Wayside Park, on the banks of pretty Lake Alta, and hired paddleboards. Next up: a delightful hour of paddling along a sunny lake surrounded by mountains. Followed by guacamole and chips on a golf club patio. Hooray. 

We had a tasty Indian meal that night and finished up with a jacuzzi which inexplicably was right next to our hotel room bed! An excellent introduction to Whistler. Then to bed - much appreciated after Roz's train sleep fiasco. 

The next morning we hired bicycles and set off along the Valley Trail, 40km of paved-ish walking and bike trails from Whistler. It was really lovely. We cycled past lake after lake, under the scenic mountain skyline, and stopped for lunch on an extremely scenic restaurant patio overlooking Green Lake and lots of mountains. After lots more cycling we rested at a little beautifully manicured park/beach area and watched the locals frolic in the sun, before cycling back to town, returning our bikes, and getting on a bus to what seemed the middle of nowhere. 

When we got off at a deserted roadside I admit I had my doubts about Roz's planning... But then we turned a corner and found ourselves far from touristy Whistler, at two great attractions: Whistler Brewing Company, and the main focus of our expedition, Bounce! A quick fueling at WBC (and a game of Battleships), then we entered what can only be described as a trampoline extravaganza. We were admitted to a huge, high-ceiling end room with padded walls and about 10 trampolines. Little ones. Huge Olympic-ish one. Ones angled on the wall at 45 degrees. It was sort of set up like a skateboard thing, and clearly many of its customers were skateboarders. Luckily for the first hour we were its only customers and we bounced up and down and around with delight. Then proper people arrived and showed us how it was really done, flying through the air, leaping from trampoline to trampoline, running along the vertical walls like they were in a video game, and essentially being rather cooler than Roz and I whose main daredevil trick was a seat drop (bouncing on one's bottom...). 

We loved watching the cool kids, and eventually I was able to drag Roz away (having not done fun stuff like this as a kid, her delight and attention span for these things are virtually unlimited!). We returned to the lovely bar for beer tasting flights and copious packets of crisps, before returning to town for tacos, Netflix, and weird in-room jacuzzi to avoid trampoline-induced muscle pain...

Said pain was of course inevitable, but regardless, the next morning we set off up the mountain. Whistler has tons of gondolas and ski lifts for ski season, and during the summer you can go up for views and hiking and restaurants at the top of the mountain. The first gondola took half an hour, enclosed and pretty, and we had a mini-hike at the top before taking a second lift, this one a proper ski lift, to the very summit of Whistler Mountain. We both found this inordinately exciting, feet dangling as we climbed high above the glaciers below, before stepping out to 360 degree views of beautiful snow-capped peaks. 

We decided to do a little hike to the absolute peak. Halfway through what turned out to be a bit of a chilly rock scramble, Roz pointed out that her sprained ankle hadn't magically recovered, and we made it back to the ski lift without doing anything too crazy. On the way back down our ski lift malfunctioned and we had an exciting few minutes dangling immobile in the air before the power returned, we made it back, and headed on our next lift: the peak to peak gondola between two mountains - apparently the longest of its kind. We soared across the sky, with fantastic views. Then, noting the time, decided to skip the hiking options and head down the mountain on two open air and equally exciting chair lifts. What a really cool experience. 

We had lunch at a delicious restaurant, Elements, before dashing to the purpose of our hurrying: all aboard the Rocky Mountaineer from Whistler to Vancouver! We'd extravagantly splashed out on this train experience, essentially the posh version of VIArail, and were unimpressed by it in terms of poshness (plastic cutlery and aeroplane food did not dazzle) but the views were an absolute delight, moving from mountain scenery to forest to a huge sparkling lake to the beautiful Vancouver skyline. We sat in the outdoor observation car and loved it. 

By 8pm we were ensconced in our Vancouver home - a very cool apartment on the 32nd floor of an apartment block with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the city. And from there it was a hop, skip and a jump to the cool Gastown area where we settled down in a fab hipster wine/cheese establishment called Salt for wine flights, cheese and dessert. And a horribly inconvenient suspicion that we want to live in Vancouver!

In which Roz and Layla walk and walk and walk (and drink tea)

By Roz

Next morning I blithely set our alarms for a little later (7.30 - the luxury) confident that our bus pick-up wasn't till 8.45. It was thus disappointing to receive a tetchy phone call whilst we were eating our breakfast informing us that our pick-up was at 8.15 and we were 20 minutes late and we were keeping everyone waiting. This kind of error is most unlike me and I felt mortified as we ran along the road to catch it. 

Mortification diminished however as we left Banff and headed through the mountains to a place called Lake Louise (attractive mountains puts things in proportion). It's known for being a beautiful area and for having been named after Queen Victoria's fourth daughter (who very ungratefully never visited). We were the only people to hop off the bus the (everyone else was heading to the ice fields to walk on a glacier) and thus I felt enabled to force Layla to wait an unfeasibly long time whilst I got a cup of tea (which was of no interest to her). Thus fortified we began a walk through the forest to the highest teahouse in Canada (or possibly North America - I should have read the guidebook more carefully). More tea, you say? Why yes, what could be more appropriate for an English girl abroad! 

The hike up was lovely, other than disappointingly uphill. This could have been anticipated by the canny hiker. Sadly I was focussed on the tea and only worked this out half way up. This is all the more unfortunate for me as Layla and I have a deal that I carry the rucksack uphill and she carries it when we are in the flat or going downhill. When I made this deal I thought it would work out well for me.  Alas I was wrong. We passed increasingly fat chipmunks (which gave me much hope for the glory of the teahouse) and eventually arrived at a beautifully blue lake overlooked by the famed teahouse. (Lakes in Canada are proving to be bluer than I ever thought water could be which is both lovely and puzzling.) We'd been supplied with sandwiches by our tour company and we consumed these fast before settling down in the teahouse for tea and suchlike (the suchlike obviously covers a multitude of food sins) whilst we read our books. I was captivated by mine - set in Papua New Guinea - and eventually Layla had to drag me away from my seat to walk back.  Alas we'd been seduced by the idea of doing a loop to get back to Lake Louise. This loop - though delightful - proved to have more uphill than I would have liked (including going up and over a little mountain in our path), but it finished walking along the brilliant blue Lake Louise and surrounded by mountains which was very lovely. We found that all of this had taken far longer than we'd anticipated and by the time we got back, our bus pickup was only 15 minutes away. We thus ditched my fantasy of scones and tea in the fancy Fairmont Hotel in favour of crisps and a beer. Not a terrible exchange... Back in Banff we collapsed on our beds before going out for a pizza.

We woke up on Wednesday conscious that it was our last day in Banff. I looked woeful till Layla reminded me that we are visiting 8 other places on this holiday so our trip is far from over.  But there's clearly no better way to ward off almost woe than going to a mad hot springs up a mountain and so that is exactly what we did. We got the bus up and were slightly disconcerted to be the only people getting off the bus at this stop (can it be that not everyone thinks a random hot spring is the way to spend a morning?) but went in regardless. It turned out to be very cheery (if not exactly popular) and it was fun to be in an outdoor hot spring at the top of a mountain. Having been boiled in a lobster-esque fashion, we got the bus down again and returned to my favourite coffee shop to read and have lunch. Back at our hotel too early for the pick-up for our bus to our next destination - Jasper - we started worrying that the pick-up wouldn't turn up or indeed that we'd got the time wrong (again). Alas the former turned out to be true and there was too much pfaff for my taste before we found ourselves on a (now delayed) bus to Jasper. But the bus journey turned out to be fun, taking us through ice fields (apparently one of the most beautiful drives in Canada) and past bears (three - including two cubs) and some elks. We eventually arrived into Jasper in the early evening, having found the bus much more fun than we'd anticipated. Having checked into our guesthouse (run by an over-enthusiastic Welsh woman who was very excited to find we were from the UK and who said I seemed too outgoing - did this mean loud? - to be a diplomat) we went out for a delicious, if not cheap, dinner. On the way home, we popped into a supermarket to buy breakfast for the morning and I remembered my love of ice wine - acquired on our first trip to Canada. So we acquired a couple of miniatures and headed home to enjoy them. 

Next morning our plan was a hike in the nearby environs and then to settle down in a cafe to read. This plan would have worked well had we not managed to misunderstand the length of the hiking endeavor we had settled on. We had our doubts as the cab drove for 20 or so minutes into the mountains before depositing us at a trailhead (our plan being to walk back into town from there). But we stifled these and set off past more beautiful blue lakes (with an occasional bit of singing to ward off bears). 2 and a half hours in I felt glad we had acquired lunch before setting off and we consumed it. 4 hours in and I was getting a bit tired (not least because there was more uphill than I had hoped). But the views were lovely so when, at hour 4 and a half, Layla suggested we add an extra loop on to take in another lake which had a hotel with tea, I said yes. Alas this proved rash because not 5 minutes in I managed to half sprain my ankle. It started puffing up in an unfortunate fashion, but we couldn't really think what else to do except continue on (though ha, I got out of carrying the rucksack!). We arrived at the lake and I bunged my foot in the exceptionally cold water for a while (whilst eating an ice cream Layla had acquired). We then headed up to the hotel and acquired apple pie, cocktails and tea. The staff were bizarrely worried about my ankle and a first aiding security guard was dispatched ("code orange") to fix it. She was sweet (and came from London) though somewhat incompetent with her bandaging. But we fixed the bandage after she had gone, and when Layla made me walk home - another hour of walking - afterwards I was very grateful for its support. Back at our guesthouse, we collapsed exhausted on the sofa and swore off walking so far again. But of course, it wasn't long before we were out again, this time for dinner. This was a jolly affair (punctuated by me taking painkillers). Back at the end of the evening, we drank a little more ice wine and investigated VPN options in an attempt to watch an episode of the UK's Location Location Location, which our friends were on. We were unsuccessfully but went to bed determined to try again in the morning. 

And so it was that this morning after a not so delightful chat with my mother and packing we found ourselves watching our friends and envying the home they found to buy on the programme. From there, the very nice husband / co-owner of the guesthouse gave us a lift to the station so we could check our bags in ahead of our train journey (overnight!) to Vancouver. And we are now sat in a lovely coffeeshop, drinking tea and not walking. Hooray. 

In which Layla and Roz hone their bear combat skills and take a lot of steps

By Layla

The looks on people's faces when we told them we were going to the Canadian Rockies on holiday was mostly incredulity: "but usually you go somewhere weird, and this time you're going somewhere everyone dreams of going!"

Sure enough, Canada is close, and the hype about the Canadian Rockies is persuasive... And it's beautifully doable without a car... So we took the plunge, and tried not to look at the rain-saturated weather forecast. Flying into Calgary, we only really had time to glance at the city and it didn't really enchant. But no matter: it was a mere staging post. The next day, in true holiday style, I set our alarm for 5:15am and before we knew it we were on the bus to Banff.  

What a difference an hour makes. As Roz fell asleep, we were leaving Calgary. It was flat, bright, unremarkable. Then she opened her eyes as we were nearing Banff and we were up in the clouds, jagged mountains poking romantically through the gaps, and misty, pointy trees as far as the eye could see. This was a landscape we'd never encountered before! So we dropped our bags at our hotel, walked into town, fueled up with tasty treats at the town bakery, and explored. The town of Banff is like a frontier town. It's set up as a supply post for people doing various outdoorsy things in the mountains, and it definitely has that vibe. Yet the people doing outdoorsy things tend to be quite well off, so the town's shops have evolved to cater to their desires. It's quite eclectic, and set on the banks of a brilliant turquoise river, in the shadow of some breathtakingly beautiful mountains. I can't remember ever being so impressed by scenery. 

On our first day, after terrifyingly investing in a can of bear spray, complete with instructions about what to do if a bear approached, we climbed Tunnel Mountain. The trail starts right from town and winds up a little mountain, with fantastic views. It was a perfect start to our holiday - and we were sure to loudly talk the whole way to deter the bears. (Not a chore for me!) After an excellent lunch in a fancy bistro back in town, we headed out on another walk, this one along the river to Bow Falls where we watched the water racing over the rocks as water also started falling from the sky. Out came the raincoats. Once the rain died down, we walked up to the Fairmont Hotel, which looks like a huge castle, and had afternoon tea (mmm scones). Very civilised! That evening we sampled the town's fancy schmancy vegetarian restaurant, Nourish, and it was extremely delicious. What a successful first day in Banff! 

The next day was cold and rainy - just the day for white water rafting! Hmmm... But we had pre-booked, so it was non-negotiable. We shivered during the safety briefing, eyeing the completely non-tempting Kicking Horse River. "It's 5 degrees C!" Our guide cheerily informed us... Luckily we were suited up in wetsuits and fleeces and raincoats and water shoes, so the prospect of getting splashed became slightly less horrifying - which was just as well as the rapids went up to Class 4! (For the uninitiated, this means very wavy indeed). It started off smoothly and we drifted along in this weird, drizzly, grey world of jagged mountains and strange rock formations called hoodoos and pointy tree forests... I felt I was in Lord of the Rings. Then there was no time to think as the rapids began in earnest and I had to occupy myself with paddling, clinging to the rope, and shrieking as I was entirely drenched. It was a lot of fun. 

Back in town, we walked home for a rare moment of reading, before it was time to hike up a big hill to the Banff Arts Centre. Which is perched above the town and is famous for its film festival in November. However tonight it was showing a special program of short films from last year's festival - very cool. After dinner in their restaurant, overlooking spectacular scenery, we enjoyed the films, about adventure sports, fittingly, before following the rest of the audience down the hill, through the woods, and back to town. 

On Sunday, we promised ourselves a rare and special treat: no alarm clock! In fact we almost missed breakfast, so long did we sleep, but luckily Roz sweet talked our way into some food, then we set out to Cave and Basin, the birthplace of Canada's National Parks, apparently, thanks to them finding hot springs - sadly no longer in use. But we went behind the springs and set off on quite a significant hike to Sundance Canyon. This was a pretty hike through the forest, and alongside waterfalls. Delightfully for me, our fear of bears meant that our walk was accompanied by my loud and tuneless rendition of the songs from Guys and Dolls. No bears appeared, so we celebrated with a delicious lunch back in the Cave and Basin cafe before logging onto wifi and admiring our new Jawbone pedometers' recording of our efforts... And then heading off to canoe! Other than our lack of skill with the canoe (mine perhaps extra-lacking), it was a glorious trip, up a little narrow forested waterway, popping out into Vermillion Lake, the mountains surrounding us on every side, birds flitting across the water... It was quite idyllic. After beers on our hotel's patio, we initially meant to have dinner in a new place... But then shamefacedly but delightedly found ourselves back in Nourish. Mmmm. 

Today it was another early start, to catch a bus to Sunshine Meadows. It was a happy coincidence that this was our first day of actual sunshine so the meadows could live up to their name. It's a ski resort in winter, but in summer has a 10km walking train that winds across meadows full of flowers, and past three sparkling lakes. It was an absolute delight - possibly the prettiest hike we've ever done! We also enjoyed lunch outside on the balcony afterwards, before heading back to town, where I was informed there is no rest for the wicked... And before  I knew what was happening, found myself back in a canoe, this time heading upriver. Another breathtakingly beautiful experience. Banff is really spectacular, and the canoeing was suitably idyllic. We're now back at the hotel, admiring the readings on our pedometers, coveting dinner, and preparing for an early morning start tomorrow. For a change... 

In which Layla and Roz sample beers, see storytelling dance, and don't want to leave Portland

By Layla

It's always horrifying to be on the last day of a holiday - we teeter on a knife edge between holiday delight... And morose. So we're always keen to have a full day of fun planned. We jumped out of bed and headed off on the bus to a different part of the trail in Forest Park. The sky was a brilliant blue, there was no sign of the humidity we knew was awaiting us back home, and we walked through the beautiful, forest trail trying to allow delight to triumph over morose. We had lunch in the Clearing Cafe, a delightful little spot with some particularly delicious sandwiches (and cake... Ahem), and then on the bus down to the waterfront. We settled down sleepily in the sun with our books and all was serene for about 20 minutes... Until suddenly an adjacent vigorous sprinkler sprung into life and we were unexpectedly showered with freezing water! Leaping in confused alarm to our feet, we decided this wasn't the perfect reading spot after all. 

We climbed up and over a bridge over the river, destination: beer tasting mini-tour! Sure we'd done the wine tasting, but Portland is really known for its craft beers, with more breweries in the city than in the whole rest of America combined (I think). No sooner had we come off the bridge, one of the coolest of these was staring us in the face (no, of course I wasn't surprised, it was just impeccable planning). We went into Hair of the Dog, which was bustling with tourists like us and locals sprawling across the outdoor tables, with their bikes. We hopped up to the bar and ordered a tasting flight each. We got four little glasses of their different beers, some of which were very nice but none of which got us especially thrilled. Then, following a cool website I'd found, we went past the Green Dragon brewery 'with our noses in the air' and headed to the more quirky Cascades Brewery, known for its sour beers. Sour beers was not really a concept I'd encountered, so, perched at another cool and attractive bar, we ordered an array of tiny glasses, and were quite excited. These were no generic beers. They were fruity but not like a standard fruit beer. They were tangy, and delicate, and surprising. Both of us particularly loved the honey ginger lime beer and were prepared to order vast quantities to take home, only to find - to our distress - that it doesn't transport. Something to do with the honey addition process. It couldn't be bottled. We ordered another glass, drank it alongside some delicious honey bread, and then headed home, wanting more. 

We'd meant to go out for dinner on our last night and indeed had identified a delicious-sounding Lebanese restaurant. But Roz and I were both reading The Girl With All the Gifts and were both so compelled that we ended up staying in to devour that instead (and pasta). But we eventually had to drag ourselves away, get on a bus, and head downtown to yet another huge, beautiful and full theatre. This was our wildcard booking: Ira Glass and Two Dancers. Ira Glass hosts This American Life, essentially a storytelling show on NPR. Radio stories and dance may not have appeared to be natural bedfellows, but the show was wonderful and touching and interesting and sweet, funny, unexpectedly lovely. Hooray for Roz's pre-holiday booking extravaganza. What a great week for seeing amazing shows!

When the curtain fell, we were absolutely not ready to say goodbye to our holiday. So we caught the bus back to Cascades and got more honey ginger lime beer, and a tasty cheese plate to accompany it. At 11:30 we grudgingly caught the bus home and even more grudgingly set our alarm clocks to 6:30am. Portland, you were brilliant and if I could live there, I would. One of the very best places in America I've encountered and a delightful holiday. 

Books Roz read on holiday: The Interestings by Meg Wolitzer, Room by Emma Donoghue, The Moon Field by Judith Allnatt, Mrs Hemmingway by Naomi Wood, and The Girl with All the Gifts by MR Carey. Plus some progress into & Sons by David Gilbert and A Place of Greater Safety by Hilary Mantel. 

Books Layla read on holiday: The Interestings by Meg Wolitzer, Perfect by Rachel Joyce, Room by Emma Donoghue, Tell the Wolves I'm Home by Carol Rifka Brunt, The Girl with All the Gifts by MR Carey, a small amount of progress into DC Confidential by Christopher Meyer and a couple of tentative pages into The Luminaries by Eleanor Catton.  

In which Roz and Layla vanish into a downtown rainforest and farmland... And Layla loses at shuffleboard

By Roz

By Roz

Next morning we were very keen to give our legs a rest, given the previous three days had involved cycling. So we decided to go for a hike. Logical. There's a giant forest in the mountains on the edge of a Portland, called Forest Park. Eight times bigger than Central Park or some such, it has 70 miles of hiking trails and is accessible by bus. Did I mention how much I love Portland with its brilliant outdoorsyness accessible by public transport?!  So we hopped on the bus from out area and half an hour later were deposited outside a lovely cafe (where we bought lunch for later and a coffee and a muffin for now) and the set off. And oh it was lovely! Within a few minutes we were deep in the forest and it felt inconceivable that there could be coffee nearby. The path was rolling (alas, flat is always preferable!) and we felt as though we were in the middle of a rainforest. We walked along the Wildwood Trail for five or so miles and then found ourselves in the Audubon Society's conservation area, which we meandered round and then sat to eat half our lunch. Incongruously we decided that this was the moment for a vigorous debate about where we should live on our return to London (the outcome will shock you all!) and we continued the debate for a few more miles till we found ourselves near an historic mansion (it might have even been 50 years old!) where we stopped for the rest of lunch and to refill our water bottles. Continuing on a for a little way, and still marveling at how few people were out (but I guess it was a Thursday) we ended up in the Japanese Garden and International Rose Garden. The former is famous for its peace and serenity, and I am sure it must be lovely sans tourists. Alas we didn't get that experience - it was the first place we have been to in Portland that has felt touristy: we even ended up queuing to see a particularly serene rock. Having attempted to read in various spots in the garden, we retreated and headed without much hope to the International Rose Garden. This proved to be an excellent place: created during the First World War to respond to fears that all European roses might be destroyed (and thus containing one of every variety of European rose) it was everything I had hoped the Japanese Garden would be...and it had ice cream. We settled down with our books on a shady bit of grass and felt very pleased with our day. 

Layla then finished her book (always a difficult moment for the person who is still going strong with their book(!) and doesn't want to stop reading) and caught a bus back to the area where we are staying. We stopped off in a very nice bar with a beer garden and had a local beer and ate chips and salsa and continued to read (Layla found something new, thank goodness!). Then home to watch Orange is the New Black before dinner. After dinner we headed out to the very beautiful Hollywood Cinema, in an area north of our flat which we hadn't been to before.  Built in the 1920s it was recently renovated and now shows a mix of films (some voted on by the local audience). We were there to see Clueless (don't judge us!) and had rather anticipated being the only people there (not least since the film started screening at 9.30). But no, there was a huge number of eager Portlandians, some dressed up specially,   and a surprising sense of anticipation and excitement. I loved it! The film was jolly (and audience comment always makes me chuckle) and all in all we left the cinema loving Portland just that little bit more. 

Next morning, after some prevaricating, we finally settled on a plan of cycling round Sauvie Island. This was a plan that had been recommended by our nice bike guide who had taken us to the Gorge. We therefore went into town, stopping to pick up coffee and lunch, hired bikes and made our way - with some trepidation - to the bus stop. Neither of us has ever put a bike on the front of a bus before and it turns out that this was not a skill that you can pick up on the first attempt. But the bus driver was bizarrely nice, and came off the bus to show us what to do (amusingly reaching through the bus window to put the handbrake on!). 40 minutes and a very nice chat with the bus driver later, we were at the end of the line and in Sauvie island. It turns out to be a rural area with lots and lots of farms and with a few beaches and a very nice road going round it. We hopped on to that road and started cycling. But soon we were tempted by an attractive looking farm and stopped off for honey, cherries and dried apples (there's nothing like remembering when you are in the middle of nowhere that you've run out of honey at home to make a wife cross when she has to carry it for the rest of the day!). Back on the road, we cycled through very attractive (disconcertingly almost English-looking) countryside with farms and so forth. But there was no sign of a beach or anywhere to eat lunch. We consulted our phones.  We asked random people. The end result was more cycling. Eventually, and much to my relief, we came to a very pleasant beach. We deposited our bikes, ate lunch, watched a child playing football with his father (World Cup has turned Americans into football fans!) and read our books. I dozed and it was all very pleasant until we suddenly felt too hot and so set off on our bikes again to finish off the loop. Half way along we were in dire need of water and the numerous farms we had passed on the first half of our cycle had suddenly disappeared (it seemed we were now on the posh side of the island!). Eventually, we saw a sign for blueberries, and followed it and found two chatty old ladies, cherries and water. We bought water, picked some cherries and escaped the old ladies. Back on the road, the bus stop turned out to be closer than we had thought...and just by it a previously unnoticed shop with ice cream. A happy conclusion to a very pleasant cycle. We put our bikes on the bus almost like pros and settled ourselves down for our return journey. 

Having dropped off the bikes we returned home for dinner, and then went straight out again to go to a comedy show. The comedians were very good, though our lack of TV knowledge meant we certainly missed stuff. After all, I am pretty sure that I am the only person in the audience who had to think for a few minutes to work out what SNL stands for... After the comedy we went to the backstage bar at the Baghdad Theatre to play shuffleboard. Layla had deteriorated in shuffleboard skill since last time we played, which was most satisfactory, and made for a good end to the day! 

In which Layla and Roz hide from rain with dragons, play with dinosaurs, and enjoy Moth victory

When we awoke on Monday morning it was clear it was not going to be sunny... Undeterred, we donned raincoats and headed out in the drizzle to Mount Tabor Park, winding hiking trails around a little dormant volcano. No sooner had we got to the top, rain so torrential that it felt like we were underwater blasted from the heavens while we attempted shelter under a tree with some joggers and dog walkers... Luckily it went off and we had a lovely walk, and were just headed for lunch when the heavens opened again - impossibly even heavier than before! 

We grabbed a bus as soon as we could and took refuge in another delicious healthy lunch bowl place where we had lunch til the rain abated, and went for a potter in the funky shops of Hawthorne Street before retiring to Powells bookshop cafe for a currant scone and a hot chocolate, just as a new episode of rain, exceeding the others, was delivered! Our subsequent rapid dash across the road to the Baghdad Theatre cinema was thus rendered an expedition of rainforest proportions. We spent the rest of the afternoon in this brilliant, beautiful old theatre watching How to Train Your Dragon 2 - not so much a choice as the only thing on, but it was surprisingly good. Though Roz, who is not good with peril, spent the whole thing in high tension, peeking at the screen from between her fingers. Which made the film even more amusing (for me and the many calm children sat around us...).

That night we had dinner at home, then went to a book reading at Powells by a (deservedly) obscure author, and finished the evening in a cool bar that served cheesecake. 

Tuesday was cycling day! We hired bikes down by the river and cycled about 22 miles, first around the waterfront near town, which was cool and scenic and industrial, then down the Springwater trail which was pleasant though unexciting. On the way back, after a superlative sandwich in a village bakery, with the sky looking ominous, we parked our bikes and went to OMSI, the science museum. Small but fun, and almost entirely hands-on, we played like children, and admired the quite cool dinosaur exhibition (with moving dinosaurs) before returning our bikes and heading home for dinner. 

That evening was one of the planned highlights of our trip: The Moth! The Moth is the grandfather of storytelling shows, the biggest, probably best, and certainly most famous of the genre. And it was on in Portland! The venue, The Holocene, was cool, the show was sold out, and we scored great seats. The format is a "story slam", aka a tournament of people telling stories and three sets of audience judges awarding points. I put my name in the hat to tell a story... Then spent the first half of the show tensed to the point of discomfort as I tried to enjoy the show and not anticipate whether my name would be called next. Then, right after the interval, it happened! I got up to the stage, told my story, and all three judges gave me 9.7 out of 10! I got to relax and enjoy the rest of the show, and at the end, I was officially designated the Moth StorySLAM winner! I could not have been more excited. We walked home to bed, bubbling with delight. 

On Wednesday, we were off on another bike tour, this one to the famous Columbia Gorge. We were astounded at how beautiful this place is. Just about a 40 minute drive from Portland, there's this huge, wonderful area of hills and waterfalls and a big river centerpiece. They've built a pretty road that winds through it, with stops every mile or so to climb up little trails to amazing waterfalls. We cycled along the road, stopping several times for delightful little hikes, and photographing a lot of waterfalls. Absolutely the highlight of our trip so far. 

Back in Portland, we lunched like the locals, ie buying a lunch bowl from one of the hundreds of excellent food carts, and then, with the sun incongruously making an appearance, set off on another adventure: paddleboarding! This turned out to be our most stressful paddleboarding experience to date because the paddleboard place was about a quarter mile from the water. We were given a board and a paddle and 2 wheels on which to balance them. So began the sort of sequence you'd see in fast forward in a slapstick movie as Roz and I tried to navigate them out of the shop, down the street, across railway lines, along a path in a park, and down to a jetty, from which, alone, we launched our boards. Success! The actual time on the water was a delight. It was beautifully still, beautifully sunny, and had beautiful scenery, around Ross Island, which is full of birds. At one point we even lay down on our paddleboards to sunbathe on the water...

Alas all good things come to an end and after lots of maneuvering and cursing, we eventually got the boards back to the shop and headed back into town having amazingly acquired a bit of sunstroke! We cooled off in a Ben and Jerry's shop, and did some Capital Fringe publicity as the tickets for our shows next month have just gone on sale. Then we had another healthy tasty bowl for dinner, and headed to yet another beautiful Portland theatre, to see yet another sold out show: we both love how Portland dwellers are such committed theatre goers! Five a Years Later was a quite good musical about a relationship going wrong. Into grossly, given how this blog began, w e were still a bit sunstrokey, and stumbled home to bed soon afterwards. 

In which Layla and Roz meet Stumptown leprechauns and Layla is a sporting goddess

By Layla

I have but one childhood memory of Oregon: that old educational computer game The Oregon Trail. By the time I arrived in Portland Oregon on Wednesday, I felt I'd pretty much traveled that whole trail, though instead of carts I had planes, and instead of going via the MidWest I went via London to sit an exam. By the time I arrived downtown, nearly 24 hours after I awoke that morning, I felt I'd traversed some major geography!

The first of my two days in Portland don't count. That's because Roz was there for work, and I was doing consulting work in the hotel room, so fun was not on the cards. Though come evening time, we managed to steal a little pre-holiday fun, strolling to the cool and attractive Pearl District near downtown to eat at Andina, a stellar Peruvian restaurant with a special vegetarian menu and Oba, a delicious Mexican restaurant, to pop into Powells, America's largest bookshop, and to watch Chinese Puzzle, a French film set in New York, at the very lovely Living Room cinema. We weren't on holiday yet... But our sneak peaks told us that Portland is cool, attractive, quirky, and is going to be brilliant. 

On Friday, we finished our respective work, then glanced at each other in excitement: our week-long Portland vacation was here! We celebrated with healthy and delicious Indian food in a yoga studio (very Portland), before traveling away from touristed downtown to our home for the next week: the heart of the Hawthorne District. Our little AirBnB apartment is charming and in a really cool location. We immediately went grocery shopping like locals, pressed our noses up agains the window of a local branch of Powells and thought: oh yes, we could live here. That night we strolled down Hawthorne Street, past a thousand fabulous-looking restaurants, to a show at the Helium Comedy Club and reveled in this cool, quirky, friendly city full of quirky things to do. And finished the night with Ben and Jerry's ice cream. Because life is delightful. 

The following day, after a morning coffee in Powells and an embarrassing level of transport/mobile nerdery (you can buy week-passes on your phone and the app holds your ticket - which indeed we did), we caught the bus into town. After a stroll around the waterfront Saturday Market (where I bought a ring for Roz) we proceeded to the bike shop. In an effort to officially transform Work Portland into Holiday Portland, we had booked a bike tour of the local wineries. This was lots of fun. We drove into the suburban countryside and then pedaled along past various fields and grapevines and cows to three different vineyards where we partook in wine tasting. Oregon is known for its Pinot noir wines, so we sampled lots of them. It was an odd little trip: not really the bucolic vistas one expects of wine tours, but rather semi-suburban fields. It was still fun though, especially when one of the vineyards brought out the cheese!

We headed home for dinner, and then on a nearly hour-long bus to North Portland because going to normal tourist hotspots is not what you have come to expect of us. No no, we were headed into the wilds, to an arts venue called Disjecta where Roz had identified a storytelling show called Russian Roulette, where storytellers spin a wheel to be given a story topic which they have to prepare in just 5 minutes, then perform. I had serious misgivings as we walked up the dodgy street, suspecting we might be the only audience members. But when we got there, Roz was exceptionally smug: it was sold out! The show was fantastic - I loved the format. And the beer (Portland has the most craft breweries in the country and is obsessed by its beers). And the pizza. Ahem... Afterwards we caught a bus back to civilization, along with an array of late night Portland party-goers, and sneaked home to bed. 

It is always disheartening to be met with rain and chill on holiday. And yet that was yesterday's offering. Portland is known for its raininess but still, we felt cheated. Roz started the day with a local yoga class, then we caught a bus downtown, raincoats in hand, for some superlative coffee and the Secrets of Portlandia free walking tour. I loved this tour, even though parts of it were executed in torrential rain... We walked all over downtown while our tour guide explained why Portland is unique, and claims the title 'weird'. Some highlights: Portland is called Stumptown because when it was founded they cut down lots of trees but couldn't get rid of the stumps so they were all over town. Portland invented the world naked bike ride. Portland had America's first female police officer. And over half of Portland businesses are owned by women. The town is full of cute drinking fountains called Benson Bubblers as a cool public health intervention by Mr Benson, an early factory owner who realized his workers kept chopping off their fingers more on hot days - because they were hydrating with beer! When hawks made their nest in a skyscraper balcony and the office workers tried to remove them, the people of Portland had the balcony officially designated a National Park. Portland was nearly called Boston - it was decided with a coin flip. The smallest 'park' in the world is in Portland and people follow the adventures of the leprechaun who lives there. Portland's impressive environmental strategies. All fun stuff. Afterwards we retired for a really excellent brunch at Mother's Bistro and then, eyeing the rain and shivering, acquired a jacket for Roz in good old fashioned Roz-and-Layla-bring-the-wrong-clothes-on-holiday style...

I'd wanted to go strolling in Portland's famous rose garden, or the Japanese garden, but the torrential rain suggested this plan may have its flaws... So instead we proceeded to Glowing Greens, a crazy indoor minigolf extravaganza on the theme of pirate skeletons... All in blacklight with ultraviolet glowing stuff. Bizarre. We grabbed our putters and had a cheery time trying to beat each other. For the record, ladies and gentlemen: I am the champion of dead pirate UV minigolf. 

After Roz recovered from her tragic defeat on the last hole, we grabbed some dinner at the Laughing Planet, enjoying the trademark Portland healthy/organic offerings, and then to a beautiful and huge theatre to see the musical Once. Which Roz loved. I was less enamored... But it was a lovely night out. On our way home, we popped into the Baghdad cinema, a converted old theatre, and settled into the Backstage Bar. This is very cool: set in the old backstage area of the theatre with high ceilings, big curtains, and suchlike. Also games: we paired our beverages with that quintessential American sport: shuffleboard. I am proud to announce I am not bad at shuffleboard. This was a day of sporting triumph for me indeed. Next step: the Olympics. We walked the 3 minutes home from the bar afterwards, resolving not to mention that late night plate of fries we demolished... And so to bed, with the prospect of more rain on our planned outdoorsy holiday. Last time this happened we were in Georgia and flew to the Ukraine in search of sun. Perhaps not this time... Apparently the sun'll come out tomorrow (betcha bottom dollar that tomorrow there'll be sun). 

In which Roz and Layla paddleboard in the ocean, are charmed by two men and read lots of books.

By Roz

After another delicious breakfast (the gays who run this B and B really are excellent cooks), we were off out on a paddleboarding expedition.  It was just the two of us and a very cheery American guide (who later told us, in true American style, of his plans to set up and run an import-export business from Asia). We were slightly ambivalent about the tour, because it was in the ocean and we feared we wouldn't manage two minutes without falling in. In true British style, we described our fears of falling from the boards to our guide in some detail - and our guide promptly thought that we'd probably never been out on a board before, and began managing our expectation down about how far we would go. So it was pleasing all round to step on to our boards and find (after a few waves of seasickness!) that it wasn't that much harder to paddleboard on the ocean than it is on a river. I suspect that our confidence in part came from the beautiful temperature of the water - it would have been a delight to fall in (in contrast to the Potomac River in DC, for example). And it was was very lovely: we were pretty much alone on the ocean (bar one random kayaker who we passed) and we made such good time that we ended up going a mile and a half to a small cove with a lovely sandy beach. We frolicked in the water and thought the snow that was falling on Washington at that very moment seemed very unlikely. We headed back the same way we'd come, chatting with our guide about paddleboard racing and where in the world to live - and delighting in the clear blue water and avoiding rocks. 

After this very satisfactory experience, we were dropped off in our hotel where we showered and then jumped in the pool. Eventually - fearful of burning - we dried ourselves and headed down the road for lunch. First, we went to the Falafel Bar (an unlikely food to be so enthusiastic about in Costa Rica...but it was delicious) and then to the cafe opposite for ice cream and a end of our books. Layla became antsy after a good while, fearing we would miss our bus to Alajuela (a small city near the airport) whilst I feared that getting the bus would mean our holiday was over and thus was deploying my best delaying tactics and so we headed back to pick up our suitcases and then back into Quepos to the bus station. As predicted, smugly, by me we were indeed somewhat early. So I sent Layla to buy ice cream whilst I settled down with Lorrie Moore's new book of short stories and tried to ignore the Spanish evangelist (the moment to find God is not in a bus station, in my view). After ice cream came the bus, and we hopped on. It turned out to be a fairly delightful journey - quick, but also going through villages to pick up more people which I always enjoy as I like imagining the lives of others. Whilst we travelled, I became enraptured by the new book I am listening to - The Signature of All Things, by Elizabeth Gilbert - and all in all was rather sorry when the bus journey was over.  We'd been deposited at the airport, which was a five minute bus journey away from Alajuela. 

I'd had my doubts about Alajuela, which we were mainly going to because of its proximity to the airport. But actually, I was wrong. It's by no means a place which a tourist would want to stay for days (or even a day, perhaps) but we enjoyed walking along the quiet streets to our hotel and spotting nice looking places for drinks, dinner and coffee. Having checked in to our hotel (and into a room with five beds, just for us!) we headed to a nearby restaurant and "cocteleria" though we shunned cocktails and opted for craft beers (followed by a strawberry milkshake in Layla's case...). There was a very jolly ambience, and the waiter was the loveliest and kindest we'd come across in our time in Costa Rica. (Next morning, we found ourselves similarly charmed by the hotel owner who just went out of his way to be nice...clearly there's something in the water in Alajuela!) We then went for a wander to the town square, which was very pretty if deserted (it was about 10.30) and then headed to bed, pleasantly surprised by the place we were in (and not just because of the multiple beds). 

Next morning - our final morning - we had breakfast in the hotel and then went out for a very quick look in Goodlight Books - a big English language secondhand bookshop (named after the Hemmingway short story) before hopping on another bus to take us to the airport. And now we are in the air and en route home. Costa Rica has been an interesting experience: I've had a brilliant time, but it was a bit like visiting a jungle version of Florida...

BOOKS READ WHILST AWAY

by Roz: The Magician's Assistant (Ann Patchett), The Secret Life of Bees (Sue Monk Kidd), The Golden Compass (Philip Pullman), The Subtle Knife (Philip Pullman), The Amber Spyglass (Philip Pullman), Flora (Gail Godwin), Sweet Tooth (Ian McEwan), I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings (Maya Angelou), Bark: Stories (Lorrie Moore), the Human Factor (Graham Greene). Progress made with The Signature of All Things (Elizabeth Gilbert).

by Layla: We Are Water by Wally Lamb, The Golden Compass (Philip Pullman), The Subtle Knife (Philip Pullman), The Amber Spyglass (Philip Pullman), TransAtlantic by Colum McCann, The Dispossessed by Ursula P Le Guin, and Brave New World by Aldous Huxley. Progress made with Flora (Gail Godwin), whilst The Many-Colored Land (Julian May) was abandoned. 

In which Layla and Roz find themselves in a gay jungle.

By Layla

A four-hour bus transfer (with a stop to look at a river disconcertingly full of about 20 crocodiles!) brought us to Quepos and Manuel Antonio. With every hour it got hotter and more humid til we found ourselves checking in to a very attractive gay bed and breakfast in what was obviously the tropics. We hopped on the bus going up and down the street and settled down on a breezy patio in a restaurant called Avion, featuring an entire plane which they'd apparently bought from Nicaragua contra activity and turned into a bar - as you do... There were fantastic views over the Pacific Ocean and the jungle, and we sipped fruit juice and ate some lunch and felt excited about our new destination. 

Manuel Antonio is an odd area in some ways - very gay-friendly with several gay bars and clubs, very expensive, very well known for its wildlife (of which we saw a single monkey and an iguana), and the most popular national park in the country. We went down to the beach and rented boogie boards and spent the rest of our first afternoon catching almost every wave, under a brilliant blue sky, and surrounded by jungle. It was a delight. We finished it off with mohitos in a beachside restaurant, and some rather pleasant Thai food, and a peek at a local outdoors film screening of a western in Spanish. 

The next day we were headed into the national park itself. Much busier than Monteverde, we climbed our way over tourists attached to guides with binoculars searching for sloths... And found ourselves very hot indeed. The trail was sandy and leafy and went up and down a lot, but there were some beautiful views and we had a very pleasant morning, before we dashed for the air conditioning of a nearby hotel! Duly cooled, we caught a bus up to Cafe Milago where we ate a vegetable and hummus wrap and had drinks and read books before heading back to the beach for a spot of boogie boarding. After that we leapt onto the bus in our swimsuits for a return to the hotel's hot tub, and then a fancy dinner in La Luna, the restaurant next to our hotel. 

The following day we had booked another tubing adventure, having liked it so much at La Fortuna. We drove out to the river and it was even more fun than last time - whizzing over tiny rapids and floating gently down quieter bits of the river, admiring the scenery and getting burnt legs (and in Roz's case, blisters on her arms from excessively vigorous paddling...). We went into town to buy ice cream and bus tickets, then after popping home to change, settled for a read and a Jenga game and some excellent falafel at the Falafel bar... Then coffee at Cafe Milago... And then, impossible to resist - more boogie boarding! We are getting good! Afterwards we enjoyed more hotel hot tubbing, before going out for pizza at a restaurant with an old train carriage, and then venturing into one of the gay bars where we found ourselves the only ladies, but having forgotten it was St Patrick's Day, Roz was am inadvertent hit in her bright green dress... A surprisingly good gay scene here, if you're a man. And we had a cheerful drink before heading home to sleep. 

Today I'm writing this by the pool after a sunny breakfast. It cannot be true that we go home tomorrow!