In which Layla and Roz hike far and visit an art island

By Layla

Our last blog saw us ensconced in a charming house in the mountains along the Kumano Kodo trail feeling very happy indeed. My personal happiness was challenged the following day: a nine hour mountainous hike to our final destination PLUS a forecast of rain? I was unimpressed... Still, it turned out to be a lovely day with only an hour or so of rain (though I must say shaving three hours and a bit of altitude would have deeply improved it!). Up and down and up and up we went, cursing our inadequate chocolate supplies and loving the welcome displays made of plantpots, flowers, and random junk that the locals had erected in their gardens for Kumano Kodo walkers. Again, we saw hardly any other walkers along this brilliant, beautifully signposted epic walk (and, alas, no chocolate shops) and for the final few miles I could hardly persuade my legs to keep moving. Then finally, when I'd just about lost hope and decided to live forever in the woods, the path brought us to a road and an onsen and the end of our trek.

I collapsed gratefully on the first available pavement, near a 90 degree celsius stream where people were surreally boiling and eating eggs... The chocolate shop had just closed, and when we asked the location of our hotel, a man pointed up a long, winding uphill road and my legs wept in hopeless sorrow. And so, we trudged off. Moments later, a van slowed down and asked if we wanted a lift. I threw myself in, thanking the Kumano Kodo gods, and looked in smug sympathy as other walkers trekked up a horribly steep incline while Roz and I were conveyed in glorious luxury.

The ryokan (Japanese inn) that we stayed at was our first, and it was a great start to the genre. Especially when its Haagen Dazs ice cream machine came into view! Shoes off and replaced by slippers, I could barely drag myself up the one flight of stairs to our lovely room where our luggage awaited us. Gosh I love the Japanese luggage forwarding service. That and the heated toilet seats may be my two most favourite things about Japan so far! Anyway, we changed into special dressing gowns and descended to the hotel onsen for our first Japanese onsen experience. Very similar to our past South Korea hot baths/spa experiences, we scrub ourselves vigorously with soap and shampoo etc until sparkling clean while sitting on tiny stools (which one day I fear I will break), then once properly pristine, we step into the very hot mineral waters of the onsen pool. In this place there was both an outside option and an inside one. My muscles approved, even though my skin felt it was being boiled...

Duly onsened, we returned to our room in time for a Japanese woman to set up a huge table in it and proceed to serve us about a thousand courses of fantastic vegetarian Japanese food. Definitely the best Japanese food we've had so far, and ridiculously copious - and in our own bedroom! Afterwards she removed the table and replaced it with two cozy futon beds. I'd rather not admit what time I made us go to sleep but let's just say I was quite tired and Roz didn't get to play ping pong in the hotel bar that evening as she'd hoped!

Up early the next day (after a 10 hour sleep!) I felt rejuvenated. A 2 hour bus and 3 hour train journey later, and we waved goodbye to all things mountainous and hello to the next part of our adventure: the Inland Sea. We were staying in the small city of Okayama mainly as reasonably convenient access to tomorrow's destination, the island of Naoshima (the Naoshima hotel was fully booked). We hadn't expected to love Okayama... But of course we did! What a delightful place. The whole city is full of flower shops and hipster coffeeshops and wine bars. The fancy street with Chanel and Tiffany's etc was punctuated with charming Alice in Wonderland statues. And then we walked down to the river and found sweeping views of the local castle, people on swan-shaped pedal boats, fantastic riverside walking paths full of locals and their dogs, and one of Japan's most famous gardens. We bought ice cream and tickets and strolled in the beautiful garden, which was such a delight. Then we found ourselves at the preparations for a festival or cherry blossom viewing or something and particularly enjoyed the local goths settling down under a very goth-themed tent in full regalia. But we had to head back to the hotel, to meet Mari, a Japanese woman introduced to us by a mutual friend, who happened to live in Okayama. We had a completely lovely evening in a Japanese restaurant/izakaya talking literature, international law, and about our experiences in Glasgow where she did her PhD. Small world indeed!

The next day was our principal reason for being in Okayama: the Trienialle. Forget Venice's Bienialle - the place to be for exciting contemporary art is a collection of little islands in Japan's Inland Sea. The jewel in the Trienalle crown is Naoshima, an island which is a contemporary art destination year-round, with an incongruous number of amazing art museums and outdoor sculptures. We caught the boat from Uno, clutching our official Trienalle passports. (Another thing I love about Japan: an enthusiasm to reward visiting certain places with a commemorative stamp.) The Trienniale passport has over 200 places to stamp, and Naoshima would provide more than 20 of these. We hired electric bikes and zoomed off for what would prove to be a delightful and truly unique experience.

Following our official map, we tracked down art installations all over the island, all brandishing the official stamp. We went into 'art houses' full of mirrors, a giant statue of liberty, subtle magnolia flowers made of magnolia wood, and my favourite, a dark room with a sunken square pond in the middle, with glowing numbers in it. A really interesting collection of art. And an exceptional lunch of vegetarian curry followed by scones at arty cafe Apron (Paper). Then it was out to the famous giant pumpkin on the beach and the year-round art museums for which a large part of the art is the integration with the cliffside location and truly intriguing architecture. We praised our electric bikes as we soared high above the sea to some of the more obscure installations, then zoomed back down to the port to reward our efforts in an arty onsen! Great fun.

We had dinner in a charming Italian brasserie last night and packed our bags before waving them off this morning on another luggage forwarding service. Hopefully we will be reunited tomorrow in Onomichi. Between now and then, farewell to lovely Okayama, a 2-hour train ride, and a 70 km cycle across the Inland Sea. Wish us luck... 

In which Roz and Layla take to the hills and become the Speedy McCampions

By Roz

After our successful Nara day trip we had a lengthy but ultimately highly successful session making loads of train reservations for the rest of our trip in an extravaganza of Japanese language use (including a comedy scenario where they told us a particular train was sold out, then realised I was in fact a girl despite having short hair, and were able to allocate us to special ‘lady’s seats’), we had planned to go to a fab sounding izakaya (Japanese pub) which was enthusiastic about vegetables.  Unfortunately we weren’t quite fabulous enough for it (I blame our fleeces and hiking boots) and couldn’t get a seat.  So to our shame, we ended up in an excellent pizza joint (which we very much enjoyed) and reassured ourselves vigorously that since we live here there’s no obligation to have Japanese food for every meal…  Our final stop of the evening was a delightful wine bar.  I’d read about it in a guide book and, after a few false turns and a bit of detective work and a long stroll down a street of sordid lady bars (hopefully not the same thing as lady seats on the train), felt very pleased with ourselves indeed to be on the fourth floor of an unmarked building drinking pinot noir and delighting in the black and white film that was playing silently (a film I know I’ve seen and felt most cross with myself for not remembering the name of – my mother would never have forgiven me). We felt very cool. Well, other than Layla trying to steal all the chocolate coins that were inexplicably on the bartop… The place was called Akibako Hanare in case anyone else wants to try hunting it down…  

Next morning we had a slow start, since Layla decided – like the hero she is – to finally embrace the challenging issue of making our phones work in Japan without the delightful portable wifi device that our Kyoto apartment provided us with, in advance of our post-Kyoto travels. We were amused that the SIM card kit included not just a special piece of cardboard sporting a beautiful Japanese scene which it encouraged us to display in our home, but also origami paper and instructions on how to make a crane.  This accomplished (the SIM activation, not the crane construction) – much to my surprise – we decided to head out on a hike. 

Described in the guidebooks as one of the top five hikes in Kyoto, we were mystified at the paucity of practical information online about the Takao to Hozukyo riverside hike.  And after multiple buses, ending in a bus terminal in the middle of nowhere, we reached the trailhead and were bemused by the paucity of people.  Usually when I say that kind of thing, my next sentence reveals the reason why no-one else is doing what we are (usually we are doing something silly that everyone else turns out to be too sensible to do).  But bizarrely, this didn’t prove to be the case in this instance.  It was a lovely walk along a river – mainly flat, gloriously scenic, and entirely delightful.  We paused for lunch and felt super happy at the prospect of lots of delightful hiking in our future life in Japan. 

The hike didn’t take us as long us the guidebook said (clearly they’ll be calling us Speedy McCampions) and so as we stepped off the train back into Kyoto we mused on our best plan.  In the end, the lure of a super cool coffee shop which the author of a Kanji learning website (which we are devoted to – to the extent that one can be devoted to a method of learning Kanji) had recommended.  This proved to be in an uber obscure location involving a train and a wander down an alley which turned out to mainly have tiny warehouses selling plants but which also had a warehouse / industrial space that was also a coffee shop called Clamp / Cramp (the name depended on which sign you looked at).  Coffee, orange juice and muffins consumed, and hipster coffee vendors with dungarees, beards, and the like duly appreciated, and a little read of our books later, and we set off on the (substantial) walk back to our corner of Kyoto, Gion.  And then, time to pack (a more substantial task than one would think since we seem to have brought more things than are strictly necessary and had thrown them all up in the air in a whirl of jetlag).

Post packing we went to a different wine bar for a speedy dinner before what unexpectedly proved to be the highlight of our trip to Kyoto: the illuminations.  Lots of temples in Kyoto are lit up in the evening at certain times of the year, and every night of our stay we had half planned to go and explore an illuminated temple – and then had got distracted by delicious food or some such.  It was fun to walk up a low-lit temple staircase and into the temple complex.  There was a special lighted path to follow which took us past beautiful trees, tasteful shrine lights, and then into a special area where they had a protected moving illumination show which was a clearly a famous traditional tale related to the temple (alas one I didn’t know), involving dragons and the like.  It was so lovely that I watched it three times before Layla managed to drag me away (humph).  It felt magical to continue walking on the temple path through the woods - including an illuminated bamboo mini-forest  - as though at any moment an old lady would pop out from behind a tree and offer me three wishes. 

Next morning, we were up early for a train to the depths of the Japanese countryside for a three-day hike on an old pilgrimage trail, called the Kumano Kodo, sister to the Camino de Santiago in Spain.  I felt simultaneously excited and fearful.  Excited because it sounded fab.  Fearful because I wasn’t absolutely sure that walking into the Japanese countryside would necessarily end up with us finding the guesthouses we’d booked since I’d shunned the offer of a guide plus I was anxious that all the uphills would defeat my lovely wife (who has a penchant for walking on the flat).  All my anxieties turned out to be nonsense.  The brilliant tourist office gave us all the information that we could want and put us on a bus to the right place to start the hike.  Even better, they gave us a card to collect stamps to show the different shrines we’ve visited and the joy of the collecting experience has almost made Layla forget her lack of enthusiasm for going up hills.  And even better than that, when we got off the bus we were greeted by a very enthusiastic, waving Japanese man holding a card with my name on it: our luggage service for the next three days.  It turns out I love a luggage service.  A wee man pops up at the start of the walk, takes your luggage and deposits it in your accommodation and then keeps popping up every time you don’t want your luggage and transports it.  Hooray. 

The walk was short on our first day – only a couple of hours – and took us through cedar forests and past shrines.  Every now and then there’s a tasteful sign to (a) tell you that you are going the right way and (b) provide some information about a random pilgrim from the 1100s who had a particular experience in that spot which meant it’s been named after him.  All charming.  And can I mention again how much we both love collecting the shrine stamps?  It feels like a reward.  (I think I shall tell my next set of Japanese teachers to opt for a system of gold stars / stamps if they want me to cooperate!)  We meandered into the tiny village in which we were staying and found our accommodation without difficulty.  The nice owner (whose English was even worse than our Japanese, which is saying something) showed us round our mansion.  Somehow I’d managed to book us into a giant and beautiful Japanese-style house with what seemed like endless rooms, tatami mats, tasteful Japanese decorations.  Indeed, for our whole time there I kept asking Layla if she remembered where x room was…  Our nice landlady had said she’d take us to a supermarket a bit later, so I went into one of the many beautiful rooms and did some yoga whilst gazing at the sweeping views of rolling hills. 

Brilliantly, I forced Layla into the front seat when we drove to the supermarket, meaning the burden of small talk fell on her.  (Am still smug about this manoeuvre.)  I bought a random collection of things for dinner (the nice landlady was palpably bemused about what on earth I was going to do with the items – a concern I kind of shared).  I then whipped up a fairly pleasant dinner and felt pleased with myself for having cooked for the first time in my new home country. 

I’d anticipated that the villages we would be staying in on this walk might not be that hip hop and happening (as Layla’s mother would say) and brought some DVDs with us as a precaution in the event of them lacking an array of sophisticated entertainment.  So we spent the evening watching Made in Dagenham huddled under a Japanese electric blanket (they don’t go in for central heating and we’re in the mountains!).  A thoroughly successful day. 

This morning, we woke after a surprisingly comfortable sleep on tatami mats and futons (which is how Japanese people traditionally sleep).  When I say surprising, I should perhaps note that I had used three futons, whereas no Japanese person would ever use more than one so perhaps it shouldn’t be that surprising.  The princess and the pea lives again…  Having had a little yoghurt and coffee for breakfast, I cunningly went to do some yoga in the same beautiful room (necessitating Layla to do some packing).  Our nice luggage man turned up – this time brandishing a sweet Union Jack origami crane that he’d made for us (and instructions on how we could also create such an item).  We were even more charmed and set off on our walk giggling with cheeriness. 

Today’s walk was even lovelier than yesterday’s.  Less uphill and past lots of babbling brooks and such like.  There are hardly any people on the route, which seems insane given how beautiful it is, but which adds to its charm.  We stopped numerous times for snacks and such like but still ended up at today’s stopping point surprisingly early (the Speedy McCampions strike again).  Today’s accommodation is also a mansion (I’m not exactly sure how this ended up being what I booked, but never mind!).  It has a beautiful garden with a little water feature and so we spent the afternoon sat out there reading (me) and applying for a job (poor Layla).  I interrupted my reading of Wilkie Collins’ Armadale with a brief cycle to the shops to ensure we have sufficient provisions for the evening.  The bike was one of those little old lady upright bikes with a basket on the front and I felt a strange combination of Miss Marple and a Japanese lady going about her business as I did so…  And now, as I type this, I’m sat at the kitchen table in our mansion as dusk falls and wondering how I can be so lucky as to be having so much fun.  Hooray for #thelonghello and #mccampionsmeetJapan.

In which Layla and Roz go on holiday to their new home country - Japan!

By Layla

The journey to Heathrow Airport was a momentous one. Not just the glorious prospect of a much-needed three week delicious holiday. Not just that we were going to the rather thrilling destination of Japan. But that after our holiday ends, we won't be getting back on the plane, but instead moving into a flat in Tokyo, our imminent hometown for the next several years. No pressure, Japan holiday...

The horribly long flight was rendered charming by the treat of flying business class and getting to sleep properly (after toasting our Japanese future with a glass of champagne of course). And soon enough we were in Tokyo. Or the airport anyway, showering in a capsule hotel! Everything was beautifully neat and clean and not that terrifying - yet. We picked up our rail passes with no problems and resolved that for the next three weeks we would resolutely be tourists. And so, showered and rail passes in hand, we boarded the train into Tokyo - and straight out again! We'd decided to leave Tokyo for last, and make our first stop Kyoto. That meant our first bullet train (a bit like a British train), our first bento box (packed lunch - lots of gelatinous items in different shapes and colours plus some tasty pickles) and our first speedy glimpses of Japan (eeek).

It took a while to find our AirBnB apartment in Kyoto, in the heart of Gion, a geisha district with umpteen pretty temples and shrines - in fact we had to walk through a shrine to get to our flat! Which turned out to be quiet, spacious, attractive, and just the thing for two jet lagged girls. Still, undeterred by time confusion, we headed out to walk through ridiculously quaint cobbled type streets lit by paper lanterns and flanked by illuminated temples, with many women adorned in kimonos. Our seven months of Japanese language study was almost vindicated when upon our hunt for a particular restaurant, we identified its name in Japanese characters! It was like we were in a massive game where everything was in code and we'd just decoded the first answer. We sat down to an extravagant vegetarian multi-course meal to celebrate, and finished the evening with a triumphant sake in a cool little cocktail bar with amazing ice globes instead of cubes. A triumphant first day.

Both of us were awake at silly hours (and eating Roses chocolates at 4am) and cursing jetlag. But we had managed a fair amount of sleep and soon we were off on a short train to Arashiyama. This area is famous for its temples, its bamboo forest and its 'romantic railway'. And we were ready to indulge in all three! We strolled along the paths through long, thin, extremely tall bamboo stalks, through a park, and into a hipster coffeeshop, before having a hilarious multi-course vegan lunch on tatami mats in a fancy temple. As you do... Afterwards we strolled through the beautiful, ancient temple gardens and lamented for the first of a billion times that we have slightly mistimed our trip to miss the blooming of the cherry blossoms, a highlight of the year for Japanese people... We then headed to the romantic railway, which we had assumed would be something silly but it turned out to be extremely popular with about a thousand different branded souvenirs on sale. A country who gets as excited as we do about a romantic railway? Maybe we were home after all...

The railway wound through hills and along a beautiful river (lined by naked cherry blossom trees) while a man in an alarming kabuki mask discussed the Scottish referendum with us - unexpected... Afterwards we returned to Kyoto and headed to the more modern downtown area for coffee and cake in a hipster coffeeshop called Hello Bibliotheque. It was suitably pretentious and we felt rather relieved that we would be consuming things other than gelatinous squares while in Japan. Though I was disturbed to see a woman eating what appeared to be dessert spaghetti... Afterwards we headed to a fancy tofu restaurant to meet Tomomi, the girl I stayed with while in Tokyo aged 19 long long ago. We had a fun dinner and chat and lots of delicious tofu (and acquired a name for the gelatinous items in all our meals: fuu). It was quite surreal to be meeting someone I know for dinner as though we were all in a perfectly unalarming place!

We were delighted to be on a bike tour first thing the following day. As well as stretching our bike legs (in anticipation of major demands next week...), he took us down ridiculously scenic backstreets, along canals, past notable temples and Kyoto's Imperial Palace, along the river, and fed us special mochi sweets wrapped in cherry tree leaves or some such from a tiny factory shop that had a huge queue despite seeming to be in the middle of nowhere. We spent the afternoon having a delicious Western-style lunch, strolling around the downtown area, and marvelling over the cost of various fruit and vegetables in a department store. The best we found was an £80 melon. We finished off with more cake (well, for me) at Cafe Independants, apparently the most hippy-ish cafe in Kyoto, in a bohemian art deco building.

That night, en route along a scenic canal to a hip Japanese izakaya (bar with food) our attention was fatally captured by a restaurant called Avocado. Our cravings for Mexican food reared and we had a fun dinner, with only a few odd things (like my sort-of-misguided ordering of avocado-flavoured frozen cream cheese starter). Afterwards we started hunting for a nice bar but got diverted by Round One: a huge bowling alley.

I have a weakness for bowling. But my Japanese skills were stretched as I tried to order appropriately. Soon though we were successfully allocated a lane, learned our Japanese shoe sizes, and received them by pressing a button like a vending machine - startling! Hard to say whether I more enjoyed winning extravagantly with my highest ever score (128!) or dressing up as a lady skittle, complete with little Scottish kilt with panties flashing... This is exactly what I'd ever hoped of Japanese bowling! Great fun.

The following day was time for our first hike. We took a hilarious tiny train with window-facing seats into the mountains surrounding Kyoto for a really delightful, picturesque little hike across the mountains from Kurama to Kibune. A bit steep at times, but totally charming, with towering trees and lots of temples and shrines. Afterwards I skillfully negotiated a couple of bowls of vegetarian ramen from a local restaurant before heading back into Kyoto.

We got off the train at the river and did a half hour stroll, at one point hilariously crossing the river using stones for the purpose that had been placed precariously far apart. We enjoyed people using the riverside park to practice complex group dances, juggling, Tai Chi, and then veered to Hello Bibliotheque for coffee and cake and a dose of pretentious hipster vibes. Fabulous!

Dinner last night was Nepalese, in a sweet little restaurant that sated our paneer cravings, and we followed it up with drinks (Roz) and dessert (me) in a cool bookshop/music shop/bar where I couldn't resist ordering the spaghetti dessert thing. Thankfully (though also disappointingly) it turned out to be a perfectly tasty ice-cream-ish dessert.

This morning it was time for another daytrip: to Nara! Known for its park, temples and deer, this ancient Japan capital has always been on our to-see list. And it was quite good. We had a tasty lunch in a nice coffeeshop, then strolled through the touristy throngs to admire various impressive temples, and of course the umpteen deer which, as promised, do indeed appear to bow when you give them food. Very Japanese! We spent a lovely half hour lying in the sun reading our books by a charming pond, and an even more charming five minutes demolishing some excellent ice cream. Then we went on a big walk through the park and down sidestreets and my plan to visit the museum of mechanical toys was foiled by it being closed today: humph! So it was back on the train, from where I am typing this epistle, and we'll soon be home to Kyoto.

In which Layla and Roz play Lawrence of Arabia in the desert, and give Berlin a second chance

By Layla

Wadi Rum is a desert area in Jordan characterised by pink sand, looming cliff faces, Bedouin camps, and Lawrence of Arabia’s house. We got there by taxi, driving through mist so thick that we couldn’t see more than a metre or two in front of us… Which made it all the more delightful when we descended to the desert, and swapped the mist for a beautiful blue sky. When we got to the visitor centre, we were met by a Bedouin guy who was to be our guide for the next day. There are various activities you can arrange at Wadi Rum, and I’d opted for everything they offered. So we set off, comfortably seated on the back of our guide’s truck, and wrapped up vigorously for warmth, into the desert.

It is hard to describe just how brilliant Wadi Rum is. I’ve travelled a lot but I wonder if Wadi Rum might be one of my favourite landscapes. We drove for miles across the sand, through cool rock formations, past people on camels, and hopped out to climb a huge, bright pink sand dune (note: I am not good at climbing sand dunes!), and to climb through an amazing canyon. Eventually, with sunset approaching, we were deposited at our camp for the night.

The traditional way to ‘do’ Wadi Rum is to spend a night camping in the desert with Bedouin people. There are consequently a million different camps you can book. And in a moment of slightly extravagant silliness, we decided to go with the Wadi Rum Nights Luxury Camp. Never having been ‘glamping’, we were astounded by how lovely it all was. The setting looked as though it had been designed by Disney, tucked into a little desert rocky nook. Our tent, looking simple and elegant from the outside, unzipped to reveal a mahogany king-size bed, sofa, dressing table, chandelier, slippers, bathrobes… it was astounding, like that part in the Labyrinth where the heroine steps through a door from the wilds and finds herself in a beautiful bedroom. We walked through the desert for a good spot from which to watch the sun set, then had a really delicious meal in the dining tent. Strolling back to our tent, we marvelled at the truly spectacular stars visible in the desert sky. We finished off the evening on a sofa in our tent, wrapped up in twenty layers (including a giant full length sheepskin coat), and watching the Spirited Away DVD Roz gave me for Christmas. Surreal and delightful. And probably the best sleep of the whole holiday.

The next morning we had a delicious breakfast, and headed out in the truck with our guide to visit Lawrence of Arabia’s house in the desert, and drink tea with some nearby Bedouins who were friends of our driver. From there, it was off to another pink sand dune for our next activity: sandboarding! We were presented with a snowboard, and told to board elegantly down the sand dune. With a total lack of snowboard skills, we decided to use it as a sledge, and passed a very entertaining time hiking up the sand dune and flying down it on the board. Great fun. Another desert drive and soon it was time for our final activity: a camel ride. I managed not to scream when it stood up, and Roz managed not to scream when it sat down, so I guess we are even… at any rate, not sure Lawrence would have approved of our camel-riding skills… but we had a fun time.

We were sad to say goodbye to beautiful Wadi Rum (and our delightful tent), but as with Lawrence, Aqaba beckoned. Though rather than conquering it, our plan was to luxuriate in warm sunshine and a fancy hotel (for which Roz had found a good deal). It was luxurious to finally swap our pink-sand-filled winter clothes for the lightweight summer dresses we’d been pointlessly carrying all holiday! After a quick lunch in a nice bakery, we headed to the Red Sea. After all, Aqaba is a beach resort, so when in Aqaba… actually it was quite odd to look across and see Eilat, Israel’s equivalent Red Sea beach resort, just round the corner. We strolled over the sandy beach and put our feet in the water. Brrrrr! We retreated to the lovely heated swimming pool and the Jacuzzi surrounded by Roman pillars, and finished off the afternoon with drinks on the beach.

That evening we ventured out to Aqaba town centre for food, and found a serviceable option where we ate our fill of the usual mezze. It wasn’t really a long, lingering meal though, and before long we were back at the hotel, arguing with the bar who had sold out of all champagne under £130. He offered us Jordanian wine instead but it was rather unpleasant – and this is how we came to celebrate New Year’s Eve with Perrier, Galaxy Chocolate, yet another anime film (The Girl Who Jumped Through Time), and the twinkling lights of both Jordan and Israel.

A beautiful breakfast buffet was an excellent, if not slimming, start to 2016. Having eaten our fill, we took a shuttle bus to Tala Bay with the hope of going paddleboarding. While paddleboarding would have been a fabulous start to the new year, falling in the freezing water without a change of clothes would have been less good. On seeing the waves were white-capped and vigorous, and the swimming flag on the beach was a decisive red, we opted for a lovely new year’s stroll along the beach, some delicious ice cream, and a few games of ping pong (at which I was sadly trounced) before heading back to the hotel.

Just a four-and-a-half-hour bus journey lay between us and our return to Amman. The bus was fine but it was disconcerting to see how we were leaving behind our lovely Aqaba sunshine for snow! When we finally stepped off the bus, it had turned to hail and we desperately grabbed a taxi and were duly ferried back to Heritage House Hotel. And from there to that delicious Christmas restaurant, where we made even better ordering choices and had an absolutely glorious last night in Jordan. What a fantastic country of contrasts and amazing natural and manmade wonders and completely different weather systems and ancient things and hipster coffeeshops. On discussion, we might even have loved it more than Lebanon.

But it was time to go, so we bid farewell and boarded a late, annoying plane to Berlin. By the time we got there, it was almost evening and we were bitter (both in terms of the airline stealing our day, and the insane cold temperature that Berlin had adopted in our week’s absence!). But then we checked into our delightful, design-tastic hotel, nibbled their free hipster chocolate, and had a hot chocolate in their trendy bar, and felt quite revived! Not least because by a stroke of luck, our Washington friends Tom and John were in Berlin that night and we were meeting for drinks. We decided to walk to the bar, a walk quite attractive but so chilly that we had to periodically duck into a heated shop to avert frostbite! (One might suggest that our dedication to taking a certain number of steps each day is sometimes a little too obsessive…) But when we got there, all was worth it. It was delightful to see Tom and John and drink cocktails and catch up. And then we left the main road, wound down an alley past the rubbish bins, and up a dodgy staircase to Cookies Cream, an amazingly hip, well-reviewed vegetarian restaurant. Fortunately Roz’s reservation finger had been on the pulse and we were quite smug as we surveyed the packed restaurant. The food was, as hoped, amazing, especially a spectacular dessert! Afterwards we started walking home but it was so cold I thought I was going to die, and we took a train instead.

This morning we woke up early and traumatised that after moving country 4 times and hotel 10 times, our amazing holiday was coming to an end… but we still had a day in freezing Berlin and we were determined to enjoy it. After breakfast we strolled (in the freezing cold) along a river and past Parliament, and through pretty Tiergarten park and ended up at the Sony Centre to drink tea and watch The Little Prince at a cool cinema. It was just us and a handful of (disconcertingly well behaved) kids, but it was very enjoyable. Afterwards, in search of lunch, we went to westberlin, a gloriously hipster coffeeshop, full of white furniture and exposed brick and pretentious indie architecture journals. And amazing cake… we stayed for ages with our books, revelling in the ambience and the heat (and the cake). And then headed round the corner to visit one of Berlin’s more obscure museums, the Game Science Centre. Not that we know anything about video games but we do love an interactive exhibit, and this one delivered! There were about 20 video games, all of which used some experimental new bit of technology. There were games we controlled by hovering hands over a sensor. Games we controlled with our eyes. A game where you had to play real ping pong effectively to kill aliens. Dance games with motion sensors. Music mixing things. And a virtual reality headset. We spent ages there and laughed that we had made a much better job of enjoying Berlin this time around. Reluctantly we headed back to the hotel, but squeezed in a quick hot chocolate at another hipster café before it was time to pick up our bags and head to the airport. Where we were duly punished for wailing about the end of our holiday by Easyjet assuring us that it wasn’t over yet: they were providing us with a charming delay in a rubbish airport. Alas. But overlooking this current drawback, what a really brilliant holiday.

In which Roz and Layla prove themselves to be speedy hikers, and walk in an explorer's footsteps at Petra

By Roz

We awoke in Dana to a freezing room and a freezing shower.  Alas.  Over breakfast, the hotel manager tried to dissuade us (not for the first time) from going ahead with our 16km hike.  I couldn’t quite work out whether his lack of enthusiasm for us doing this particular hike was because (a) he thought we looked weedy (b) he wanted us to do a guided hike with his wee friend or (c) it really was a dreadful idea.  I hoped for vehemently that it was (b)…  To be fair, as we set off on the hike, the winds were extraordinary.  So vigorous that Layla and I both had to brace ourselves when gusts came to avoid being blown over.  Maybe this was a dreadful idea, I thought…

Of course, it wasn’t a dreadful idea.  After 2km steeply downhill – in some ways aided and in some ways hindered by the wind – we were in the depths of a canyon.  Huge and majestic, it felt as though we stepped into another world - all the more so since we were alone the whole way other than a few Bedouin and a group of three cheery hikers going in the other direction.  The path twisted and turned and at a few points we were uncertain of the way and set off determinedly one way only to realise that this was definitely the wrong way a few minutes later.  We stopped a couple of times for a break and at one point had tea with three Bedouin young women.  Intriguingly, though very definitely a unit of some sort, they turned out not to be sisters.  Since there was no sign of husbands or children, I hoped to myself we had encountered a tiny lesbian enclave…

Just as we were beginning to flag, we started to encounter more Bedouin tents and saw a large building in the distance.  Layla reminded me that one of the descriptions of the route had mentioned that the canyon / wadi didn’t finish where you expected it to, and so this wasn’t going to be the end.  I indignantly told her that I was more than aware of this.  And so we waved cheerily at the Bedouins and then proceeded to walk past the building.  Until one of us suggested that it might be worth taking a look at the building to find out what it was “just in case”.  Amusingly it turned out to be our destination – an ecolodge where we were to be picked up and taken on to Petra.  We were, unaccountably, an hour early, having apparently walked faster than every other hiker on the route. However, the sofas in the deserted ecolodge looked inviting and the hotel staff gave us drinks and showed us truly amazing pictures of the moon and Jupiter which they’d taken from their telescope.  (I’d have been happy reading my book but looking at craters on the moon was definitely a spectacular alternative.)  Our very nice driver turned up, immensely surprised to see us there (“no-one does it in five hours…”, he said as we looked smug and tried to look as if this was the kind of thing one would expect from the McCampion clan) and shortly afterwards we set off. 

The drive turned out to be more interesting than I expected.  At first, we were more or less driving through desert – very scenic, and intriguing to drive alongside a waterpipe with a few leaks in it which had created a narrow oasis-type strip of greenery and tomato-growing in the otherwise barren landscape.  Then a tarmac road appeared – the first time I’ve seen a road have such a definite end / beginning (depending on your perspective).  We then proceeded to take a short cut, which turned out to be on a road that was still being made.  This was terrifying / fun (again which it was depends on your perspective).  I’m confident that our driver found it terrifying but on the plus side the men who were making the road were very cheery about having to push our car over the rocks that were to become the road to get us over the worst of it as we teetered on the edge of a cliff…  And then, as we approached Petra, there was the most beautiful sunset I’ve ever seen.  The sky was pink and the clouds looked magical.  It felt as though aliens were liable to descend from the sky at any moment.

Our hotel turned out to be less than excellent (sigh) in a far away location.  So our best option was to put down our bags, grab a taxi, and head straight into Petra proper for a much-deserved evening drink with our books.  We went to the rather excellent Cave Bar (which is in a 2000 year old cave) and I delighted in reading a slightly sci-fi novel about Antarctic exploration whilst we were on a holiday that felt like it was going over the ground trod by very remarkable explorers in the past.  We left the bar, looking at the entrance to Petra as we passed with glee, and then headed up the hill to a perfectly delicious Jordanian dinner.  And then got a taxi home. 

Next morning we were up early (Layla earlier than she wanted, due to a Mosque being right next to our bedroom) and after a slightly peculiar breakfast (I like orange squash as much as the next person, but not usually for breakfast…) were en route to Petra. When Layla and I were devising this holiday, I’d lobbied we go to Jordan for lots of reasons, but mainly I think because it was a place I remember my mother (who died about a year ago) going when she was my sort of age and loving.  And Petra and Wadi Rum were the places in Jordan she talked about most often – she’d been enchanted by the pink rocks and sand and by the romance of both places.  I was equally enchanted.  Petra is just remarkable: an ancient city carved out of and into rose red rock cliffs.  You enter the city through something called the Siq – huge tall cliffs on both sides of you create a passageway that is a metre or two wide.  It’s both gloomy and mysterious and it is brilliant to imagine the Swiss explorer who “discovered” Petra disguised as a Bedouin to gain access to this mythic place, making his way through the passage, unsure what he’d find on the other side.  You eventually pop out at the Treasury, a massive, delicate façade carved into Petra’s red rock face.  Possibly sacrilegiously I thought it had a lot in common with the US Treasury.  There are huge columns and thinking about the negative space (as my guidebook put it – in other words, thinking about all that was carved away) is astonishing.  To appreciate the whole thing (i.e. rest our legs that were reminding us vigorously that they’d walked 16km the day before) we sat down in a cheery café and had freshly squeezed orange juice. 

There weren’t many people in Petra (which was of course great for us, though somewhat surprising) but nonetheless we decided to go slightly off grid and so began a hike up to “the High Place” – a place of sacrifice (which is not ill named as our legs were keen to emphasise).  From here, we hiked through the ruins, past a terrific carving of a lion (which had once been a fountain) and by caves and small temples.  We took a short rest in one temple and befriended an entirely delightful cat.  Continuing on, we were dismayed when it began to rain.  We took shelter in a mini cave and somewhat incongruously began to read our books.  This proved entirely delightful – there’s nothing so cheery as reading something brilliant in an amazing place – and in some ways we were somewhat disappointed when it stopped raining.  We eventually headed back to Petra “city centre” (i.e. the ancient street which most tourists stick to) and had lunch.  After lunch, we walked back through the main street, delighting in the fact that – like Jerash, where we’d been a few days before – you could imagine ancient people going about their daily lives, popping into the theatre and so forth. 

We were eventually back at the Treasury and beginning to flag (unsurprisingly since it was late afternoon by this time).  So we decided to head back through the Siq and to our hotel for a brief rest and shower.  Fortified, we headed out to the Cave Bar once again before dinner.  Dinner was in fact going to be more exciting than usual, since we’d signed up to do a cooking class (the idea being that you learn to make Jordanian food and then cook it and have it for dinner).  This was super fun, though Layla was quick to point out (just to me) that the lentil soup recipe was pretty much the same as her mother’s…  There was a fun mix of people though I was intrigued to meet several (Western) men who’d never actually cooked before and thus were at a loss as to how to chop a vegetable…  Dinner was delicious and we congratulated ourselves on another excellent day in Jordan. 

Next morning, things looked a little less bright.  The weather forecast was awful – rain all day and the next – and there was a ton of mist making visibility rotten.  We decided to skip the hotel breakfast and went in search of something better.  We were foiled in this aspiration and as the rain poured down, I decided to shake things up a bit by suggesting that we consider leaving Petra at lunchtime and bring all our plans forward by a day and chase the sun.  Layla looked astonished by such a radical plan but in the end we decided to do so.  It took a bit of phaffing to execute this, but by 10.15 we were back at the gates of Petra with a plan to make this second visit our last.  Then, two strokes of luck:  Layla spotted a café with a proper coffee machine and I had my first coffee for days (hooray – I’d just been wondering whether to force myself to start liking Turkish coffee or Nescafe…) and there was a break in the weather.  So we walked through the Siq very happily, marvelled again at the Treasury and then had a proper explore of the main street. We then headed back to our hotel to blow their minds with our early check-out.  Next stop, Wadi Rum!

In which Layla and Roz spend Christmas viewing Roman ruins and Boxing Day in the Dead Sea

By Layla

A short plane ride (punctuated by an excellent re-watching of the film Spy), an impressive whiz through customs, and hey presto: our European wintery holiday had been transformed into a Middle Eastern extravaganza. (Albeit the weather had not changed as much as we’d hoped...) Having checked in to the very pleasant Heritage House Hotel near the First Circle in Amman, we popped round the corner to Books@Cafe. Only hours after looking at the Brandenburg Gate in Berlin, we were ensconced in a charming, busy little bar/restaurant over an English-language bookshop tucking into our first dose of hummus. Afterwards we strolled around Rainbow Street, enjoying a rather pathetic but well-meant Christmas tree, and young boys in the square doing some crazy synchronised dance and being impressed at how nobody hassled us at all. An excellent first evening in Amman.

It was unfortunate to start Christmas Day with an alarm, but holidays, of course, are no time for relaxing. And we clearly had to wake especially early to exchange presents. I was delighted with my extravagant array of books from Roz (including a newly translated Haruki Murakami – my favourite author!) not to mention a selection of top Japanese animated films. In turn I gave her some cool jewellery, various silly nonsense, and best of all, a domino game about the geography of Europe. Well pleased, we had a quick breakfast and then hopped in a car (with driver) and headed north, destination: Jerash. Jerash is an old Roman provincial town and quite delightfully (a) it is impressively preserved, so we could imagine people going about their business in Roman times, (b) there were hardly any other visitors, and certainly hardly any non-Jordanians, and (c) the sun came out and it was delightfully warm. What an excellent, if off-beat, way to spend Christmas! We roamed all over the ruins, climbing into temples, and strolling along market streets, and sitting in the hippodrome, and the local theatre. Fabulous. From there it was off to Aljoun, a Muslim Castle whose purpose was to defend against the Crusaders. A cool castle, and we walked all over it, finishing in a brilliant view from the top.

Back in Amman, we headed to a fancy café, Wild Jordan, for a very late Christmas lunch of halloumi sandwiches and a few games of Europe Mapominoes. I won. Just saying… Afterwards we went for a stroll to find the art house cinema but since it wasn’t open, we had tea in a hipster coffeeshop (the area abounded with these, rather unexpectedly!). Then we stuck our head in at an art opening, before going back to our hotel to watch the first of my anime film Christmas gifts: Summer Wars. Quite mad, but most enjoyable. It finished just in time for our reservation at a fancy local Jordanian restaurant where we finished Christmas in fine style with a spread of delicious mezze and even a little Christmas décor.

The following morning we embarked on a walk through Amman’s downtown, and up a giant hill to visit the ruins of the Citadel, then down to the Roman Theatre, and finally we wheezed our way back up a thousand steps to our hotel. Amman is a really nice city but there is something unpleasantly San Francisco-ish about its many hills! We bid farewell to said hills in a taxi bound for much lower climes: the Dead Sea!

Strange how 45 minutes of driving can bring about such a change in weather. Suddenly, below sea level, we were warm and ready to float! The Dead Sea is one of the saltiest seas in the world. I sampled its floaty fun back in 1999, from the Israel side. I remember it being chaotic and a bit dirty and not as magical as I’d hoped. Turned out I’d just done it wrong. This time we checked into a fancy (but not especially expensive) hotel, and entered the water from their private beach. And what fun! Beautiful, serene, pearly vistas. Hilariously floaty water – not really possible to swim, but entirely possible to read the paper while floating. We applied the Dead Sea to make our skin extra-beautiful. And then took a little golf cart to bring us back up to the hotel when we had had our fill of floaty fun. We finished our water fun in an outdoor Jacuzzi, followed by a quick swim. What a fun day! That evening we read our books in the bar, had dinner at a disappointing Italian restaurant, and finished off watching 21 Jump Street at the hotel’s cinema. And feeling very positive indeed about the Dead Sea.

This morning we were up far too early because whenever you book anyone to take you anywhere, they always want to start early. We had a delicious breakfast from the hotel’s extravagant spread, then bitterly waited for a slightly late driver. He eventually turned up, accompanied by his small daughter, ready to drive us anywhere we wished.

Today’s plan was to go down Jordan’s famous King’s Highway, a road that winds past all sorts of interesting sights. Our first stop was Mount Nebo. This is allegedly the spot from which Moses first saw the Promised Land. Quite fun to be there, with the same view (albeit a tad obscured by mist). We also saw a church, and the first of what would become a theme of today: ancient mosaics.

If you’re in the market for ancient mosaics the place to go, of course, is the Christian town of Madaba. We took a walk around the town, visiting all the key mosaic sites. There was a little church with a full floor of mosaic tiles, the centrepiece of which was a woman representing the sea, surrounded by imaginary sea creatures. There was a vibrant floor mosaic depicting a topless Aphrodite spanking Eros, and some rather good ancient wall mosaics of townhouses. And of course, the most famous mosaic, housed in a Greek Orthodox Church: the first known map of Palestine. We also enjoyed the nearby café… and then headed to Wadi Mujib, Jordan’s answer to the Grand Canyon, for some fabulous views.

Soon we were off again, this time to Kerak to see the finest example of a Crusader castle in the desert. After a quick but tasty lunch in a local place where our driver seemed to have friends, we headed up to the massive castle. And proceeded to get fairly lost in its labyrinthine corridors. Still not sure whether we saw any of the main sights of the castle, but we walked around it for an hour, climbed the turrets and had lots of fun. And then, after some more amazing views of otherworldly desert cliffs and rolling landscapes, we arrived at this evening’s destination: Dana!

When we told our Jerash driver we were doing to Dana Nature Reserve, he laughed at us. “But it’s one of the best nature places in Jordan!” we told him. “But it’s cold,” he responded. Our driver was not lying. Having had a pleasant, if chilly dinner, we are currently huddled by an old gas heater in an otherwise unheated and flimsy hostel pseudo living room. The hotel workers are wearing ankle-length sheepskin cloaks. Roz and I are wearing seven layers of clothing including four jumper layers, listening to the wind literally whistling and hoping that our planned 6 hour hike in Dana Nature Reserve tomorrow is worth it all! 

In which Roz and Layla go in search of Christmas in Berlin (and find art, cheesecake and Syrian refugees)

By Roz

We touched down in Berlin late, neither of us sure what to expect – both of us have been to Berlin before, separately, and neither of us had loved it. But everyone we speak to seems enchanted by Berlin and we were ready to follow suit – and particularly ready to succumb to the Christmas vibe of the city.  Throwing caution to the wind (a tiny bit) we hopped into a taxi from the airport to try and make up for some of the time we’d lost through our plane being late.  Relatively swiftly we were in our tiny AirBnB flat on the outskirts of an area called Kreuzberg – a locale about which we’d read vehement descriptions as hip (though their very vehemence rather reminded me about how I used to describe the area of London I lived in before – Camberwell – which was more aspirationally hip than absolutely hip…).

Having dumped our stuff in our new home, we hesitated over the right plan for the night, feeling a bit intimidated by the depressing vibe of our street… and then decided to leap on a train and head straight into the centre of the city to visit a Christmas market and drink Gluwein (which is rather like mulled wine if you haven’t had it – if you have, please forgive what I’m sure is heresy).  It was very cheery meandering around the festive stalls, watching a little ice skating and listening to Christmas music.  We then headed back in the direction of Kreuzberg to have Italian food in a cool place called the Gorgonzola Club.  (The irony of coming straight from Venice to have Italian food in Germany does not escape me.  However, German food isn’t absolutely vegetarian-friendly…)  Candles twinkled and hipsters abounded: phew! We then wandered home via a cocktail bar in a basement where they served terrific concoctions (if so strong that I am ashamed to say that Layla had to conveniently spill some of hers to avoid the shame of leaving a drink that the bartender was clearly very proud of). 

Next morning, we were up relatively bright and early for a free walking tour of Berlin.  Our tour guide did a nice job of taking us through German history in an interesting way (starting in the 12^th century!)  and showing us the standard tourist sites from the Brandenburg Gate to the Holocaust Memorial to the spot of Hitler’s bunker and Checkpoint Charlie.  Not exactly cheery but it was an interesting and efficient way to see them.  We were more than ready for lunch at the end of the tour and were delighted to find a mainly vegetarian but otherwise wholly chic place nearby.  As I debated salad sizes with the waitress (ah, some traits from America will never leave me I suspect!), I unfortunately came up with the peculiar question “which do most middle-aged ladies order?”.  Ah, I have never embraced middle age or going with the norm before, and yet I managed to do both in one sentence. Layla cried with laughter. (The waitress later asked me whether the size had been right and I have a vision of her giving future customers kindly advice “well, I understand the medium salad is about right for most middle aged ladies…”) 

Our plan for the afternoon was to explore a couple of different northern areas of the city by foot.  Unfortunately, Berlin turns out to be the opposite of Venice – there you look at the map and think the destination must be far, far away, and then find you get there in a couple of minutes, whilst in Berlin places look close and then you find the opposite is true.  Nonetheless, we had fun walking up in the direction of the Jewish area (including past the British Embassy which I waved hello to) and to the Hamburger Bahnhofstrasse Museum, which is a modern art museum housed in a former railway station.  We fortified ourselves with coffee and cake first in a cool little museum cafe, and then enjoyed meandering round the first part of the museum, which had mainly Warhols and Lichtensteins.  We mused that the museum had turned out to be smaller than we had expected as we left these galleries – and then found that we’d only touched the surface of the museum and found lots of experimental works in what looked like old railway sidings.  We had fun walking through the endless galleries and playing on video games (something I always find both fun and surprisingly hard since it wasn’t part of my childhood), which were inexplicably one of the exhibits. 

We continued on with our walking route (though by this time my legs were pointing out that this wasn’t absolutely what they were accustomed to in London) and eventually ended up in a posh and apparently tourist-filled area which turned out to have very cool linked brick buildings full of galleries and shops and even a cinema, but though they were open, the whole area was somewhat disconcertingly deserted and grim.  We meandered through, picking up some fortifying chocolate for Layla, and then scrapped any plans to linger and headed back into the centre of Berlin. 

Our plan for the evening was dinner and then Star Wars.  Layla is not at all a Star Wars fan, and I’m only moderately enthusiastic (by which I mean I’ve seen the first film numerous times, the second and third once and the newer films not at all).  But this film has had such glowing reviews and there’s been much chat about it having the first properly feminist lead, that I wanted to jump on the bandwagon.  There was an awesome-sounding old East Berlin cinema, Kino International, which had it on at the right time, and I was foolishly confident that we’d find somewhere nice to eat close by. It took so long to walk there that our legs were wailing and our teeth were chattering by the time the cinema finally came into view. Then we found there was absolutely nowhere to eat, nice or otherwise, in the vicinity (but we walked another mile just to make sure).  We ended up in a flap and then in the unfortunate position of pretty much missing out on dinner (bar some random snacks).  On the plus side, however, the cinema was beautiful – the inside was a little like the Royal Festival Hall in London (despite having been built 15 years later) and there was delicious Reisling to sustain us too.  We both thought the film was excellent and the cheery vibe of being there with a lot of very excited people more or less made up for the lack of dinner (especially the guy behind us brandishing his own light sabre…). 

We woke up the next morning feeling rather hungry (even hungrier than usual, I mean).  This was the perfect justification for us to walk in the direction of one of Kreuzberg’s cool cafes, Five Elephant (said to have the best coffee and the best cheesecakes in Berlin) along the lovely Landwehrkanal (you might be able to guess that this is a canal).  Despite the time of year (or do I mean because of it?) it was a lovely walk with a blue sky and austere looking trees lining the canal and various locals walking their dogs.  The café lived up to its reputation and their banana bread was also excellent, so we enjoyed our stop there, including spending much time trying to lure a small dog, also in the café, to be friendly.  Whilst there, we concocted the slightly odd plan of walking to a nearby, somewhat dodgy park to play indoor mini-golf.  We were frustrated in this plan by the fact that the mini-golf was closed for the winter (Berliners have inadequate devotion to mini-golf it seems), so we summoned our remaining walking muscles and continued across the river, past some cool buildings, and on to the East Side Gallery – an outdoor display of murals painted by artists along a remaining piece of the Berlin Wall to capture their thoughts about it coming down. Interesting stuff.

I was fearful that we’d end up in another scenario where we walked so far that my legs wanted to fall off.  And so when Layla, after some urgent research to find ideas for somewhere to pass a delightful afternoon, announced that our next destination (and lunch) was a mere hour’s walk away, I determinedly steered us onto a bus.  Stepping off the bus in posh west Kreutzberg, I feared the plan might have been flawed when first the place we’d had in mind for lunch proved to be closed for Christmas and the streets seemed deserted. Happily we’d just walked down a disappointing street. Which made it all the more glorious when we turned the corner and unexpectedly found ourselves in a delightful indoor food market, reminiscent of Union Market (Washingtonians) or Borough Market (Londoners).  We had a delicious lunch of quiche and salad and such like and then meandered around, stopping for coffee and Turkish tea. 

From here we headed to Templehof park.  This is a defunct airport, used during the Berlin blockade, which has now been turned into a park. For a change, this destination was close by, and my legs rejoiced.  It’s not hard to find an airport entrance and so once spotted, we headed towards it confidently.  We were soon stopped by some bemused looking police and after a while realised that the former airport terminal building is now being used to process Syrian refugees and that this was what we were trying to barge our way into.  Oops.  We eventually found the airport-turned-park entrance.  Unsurprisingly, tons of Syrian refugees were kicking around the area, including hanging out in the park and after it dawned on me that they’d take us for German locals I felt it incumbent on me to smile enthusiastically at each one in an encouraging and welcoming fashion.  I fear the end result was more maniacal than would have been optimal.  But I meant well.  As we meandered round the airfield, watched people flying kites and pretended to be planes on the runway (did I really just confess this?), we mused on how handy it would be for the authorities to have such a large building in the centre of the city (it’s the civil servant in me) but we also mused that it seemed most odd that such a big building had remained basically empty and unused for such a long time. Is it wrong to think: that would make amazing flats!

Afterwards we wandered back to the food market for some gluwein before hopping on a metro to go bowling.  This proved a very cheery experience, and I say that even though Layla won both games.  But it felt like our bowling balls had some magic about them, since neither of us have played so well – with numerous strikes – in years (for which read ever).  From bowling it was a surprisingly short walk home when we had a quick rest before dinner at a really excellent Italian place (I know, again not German) for some delicious small plates.  They played pretty much every Christmas song I know (cheery) and we entertained ourselves by musing on New Year resolutions and eavesdropping on a nearby table where a German boy was introducing his non-German-speaking English girlfriend to his not-enthusiastic-about-speaking-English family. 

Our plane to Jordan was early afternoon the next day, so our morning was composed of quickly packing and then a lovely walk round Tiergarten (Berlin’s answer to Central Park the philistine would say).  It’s a beautiful and interesting park, with a only a few locals and seemingly no tourists.  It felt a cheery way to spend the morning of Christmas Eve and we skipped with joy at the thought of a whole 10 more days of holiday. I felt a bit sheepish at not feeling sorrier at leaving Berlin… I had expected to fall in love with its quirky, hipster, arty vibe, but while I enjoyed the art museum and the cool cinema and the lovely parks, somehow it all felt a bit flat and utilitarian and uncharming, and somehow so ensnared in its dreadful history that it seems to be struggling to write new chapters, as though doing so would unacceptably distract from the horrors. We were left seeking the city’s 21^st century personality in vain. It didn’t even feel all that festive, despite a hundred Christmas markets. But with everyone else raving about Berlin, we must be doing it wrong, somehow. Maybe it’s a city you need to spend more time in if it’s to grow on you… or maybe Layla and I are just Philistines… at any rate we’ll be there for a final day at the end of the holiday, so we’ll give it one more chance… But for now, goodbye Berlin and hello Amman!