Colourful German-era buildings from early 20th century built upon block rock and desert at Lüderitz

The small town of Lüderitz is wedged between the Namib Desert dunes and the wild Atlantic seaboard. Because of its location, it’s not on many itineraries, but this is our destination today. This sleepy settlement was placed under the protection of Chancellor Bismarck who assumed German control of the whole of South West Africa from the late 19th Century to World War I.

The fishing industry continues to be the main employer here. After yesterday’s surprise finding local Namibian oysters edging out the ‘Sydney Rocks’ for creaminess and flavour, I’m all set to find the best place in town to sample the local crayfish.

Good local beer at the Nest Hotel looking back across to the back of the Lutheran Felsenkirche

But, I am to be disappointed! The local guide on the ship sends me in a taxi to the place she recommends – The Nest Hotel, beautifully situated across the other side of the harbour overlooking the sea.

What a sleepy throw-back to the 50’s. After waiting an hour over a cold Windhoek beer, along come four crayfish – great colour! But that’s where the ‘great’ ends. Compared to the delicate, sweet, South Australian crays, these are tough, overcooked or old. And there’s a strong iodine flavour.

Four local crayfish for lunch at the Nest Hotel - not up to the delicate flavour of our South Australian produce

PHOTOS of Lüderitz: CLICK HERE.

umping, yes, the ship is bumping . . . shuddering and rolling.

For the first time in two weeks at sea, I’m glad to be experiencing some of the rigours (but none of the shipping disasters) of sailing along the infamous Skeleton Coast of South West Namibia.

I wake to see white waves extending from the bow along the whole length of the ship

Looking out on waves sparkling in the sunshine

I wake to see white waves extending from the bow along the whole length of the ship sparkling in the sunshine. Great feeling, sitting propped up against three pillows with my soft-boiled eggs, a pot of tea, and the satellite edition of ‘The Australian’ looking out on this scene.

The small town of Lüderitz is wedged between the Namib Desert dunes and the wild Atlantic seaboard. Because of its location, it’s not on many itineraries, but this is our destination today. This sleepy settlement was placed under the protection of Chancellor Bismarck who assumed German control of the whole of South West Africa from the late 19th Century to World War I.

View Photos of Sailaway Poolside BBQ: CLICK HERE

Creamy Namibia local oysters as good as Sydney Rocks

may have been the suckling pig that first caught my eye, but the purity of form and colour of the local Namibian oysters I saw Chef David shucking at the other end of the pool that got me started. And to add some fleshy Alaskan King Crab legs to my plate made for the start of the incredible feast. No BBQ items in sight for me . . . at this stage!

Poolside Buffet - Alaskan King Crab claws and Prawns catch my attentin

'Stars of Silver Sea' at Sailaway BBQ Poolside - Jemma, Brett, Elizabeth, Zach, Brianne and Jason

View photos: CLICK HERE

orning fog is a good indicator for favourable afternoon flying conditions in southern Namibia”, says the manager of the airline office in Swakospmund as we walk in to pay for our tickets on the Sossusvlei Scenic Flight.

He says that it’s a good sign because fog keeps the sand from blowing over the Great Namib Desert and spoiling the view of the red dunes and other surreal landscapes from the air.

The infamous 'Eduard Bohlen' coaster stranded in 1909 on the Skeleton Coast

The red dunes of Sossusvlei

hy West Africa?

Nearly two thirds of the days on this 18-day cruise on ‘Silver Wind’ from Las Palmas to Cape Town are spent ‘at sea’, simply sailing, and that’s the whole attraction.

In hindsight, I’d repeat the experience, but not for the ports included on the itinerary. They are by and large – forgettable! Maybe a trans-Pacific cruise in the future would give me plenty of ‘sea days’?

Bow of Silver Wind at port in Praia, Cape Verde Islands - Only 170 passengers on board

The big surprise in ports has been the Cape Verde Islands, about 300miles off the bulge of West Africa in the Atlantic. I had high hopes for Dakar in Senegal that weren’t realised, and other than being able to say “When I was in Ghana”, that visit to Takoradi was simply a lost day.

High hopes for Namibia tomorrow though

Life on board . . .  to come

V

iew Photos – CLICK HERE

Softly as in a morning sunrise

aven’t a clue what day it is!” Oh what a feeling!

The sound of cutting through calm seas is soothing whether propped up on two soft pillows in the cabin or stretched out on a towel with a book reclining in the shade on deck. And, a pot of tea or a cool drink is only a lift of the finger away.

Position of the sun gives me a clue as to the time of day. However, in these waters off the West Coast of Africa, the loss of satellite signal for cable News channels takes away any clue as to the day of the week.

If the Ship’s Bulletin lists the Rabbi’s gathering, so then it must be Friday; and when stock prices are not listed, it must be the weekend. But trying to recall if either was the previous day or two days ago is futile.

Imagine. When I find one of the enrichment lectures by a conservationist, who talks of his traipsing all over the Gobi Desert in search of a threatened specie of camel, so interesting, it must serve as some indication that I’ve reached a plateau of contentment.

All I need to do now is throw the laptop overboard.

s soon as the Ghana authorities have cleared the vessel in the port of Takoradi, the very notion of women dressed in African costumes, with bowls of fruit or fish on their heads has me on the first shuttle bus from the ship into town with camera at the ready.

I have this vision of straight-backed women walking through aisles of colourful local produce, yellow bananas and red tomatoes overflowing from tables in the Market just waiting me to come and seek permission to snap away.

So far from the truth!

Takoradi, Ghana's fourth city

akoradi is the largest port but a small city in hot steamy tropics of the southern coast of Ghana (Gold Coast in British Colonial times). Tourism is obviously way down the bottom of the list of exports.

I’m up early for breakfast on the aft deck to watch the ship berth, and yes, I do go into Takoradi on the first shuttle bus expecting to be dazzled by the colours of the famed Market Circle.

Maybe I was too early, but as I pick my way over broken footpaths outside dilapidated buildings, and gingerly negotiate open drains choked with plastic, blasting music assaults my ears. All I see is lots of dried fish being stacked on trays by not so friendly locals, and a few baskets of tomatoes and piles of hulled coconuts and huge yams. I get into trouble for photographing a pile of oranges smelling in the heat on the footpath. “Permission!” One lady screams as she appears from nowhere as if brandishing a machete, and I my make a quick retreat back to the shuttle bus.

Children in school uniforms look fresh, and again, it’s the ladies who seem more industrious than the men. Unfortunately, unlike the very elegant and proud Creole women in the Cape Verde Islands, these poor souls look beaten. Perhaps the men are away working on the oilrigs or in the manganese mines, but the ones I see here are sweaty layabouts.

enturing out again later in the morning, Edmundo and I pick up a local taxi driven by a smiling Adam, who has just returned home to Ghana after being deported from Italy as an illegal immigrant. He drives us to the next town of Sekondi to see the fishing harbour, and the total ruins of British colonial buildings from a century ago. The scene at the docks is reminiscent of ‘storming the barricades’ as masses of humanity clamber aboard fishing trawlers with women balancing large bowls on their heads or with babies tied to their backs to get to the catch.

Fishing Harbour in Sekondi - As close as I could get to the fishing boats before the policeman stopped me

Wonderful for photos, but a small sweaty policeman in crisp uniform stops me, officiously warning with trumped-up importance that it’s an offence.

Back to the taxi to find Adam with his head under the bonnet, stripping cables and twisting wires together trying to get the car started. And we have less than an hour to before the ship sets sail for Namibia!

Edmundo keeps his cool, but I fear he’s silently conjuring up how he’ll eventually tell this story of a shore trip that he didn’t want to make in the first place.

Anglican Church from colonial times that has been kept in some order, in Sekondi

View Photos CLICK HERE

akar in Senegal, aspiring to modernity, but these new beginnings sprout from dirt and litter of third world chaos. Of course, we drive past an impressive Presidential Palace left from French Colonial times, embassies in tree-lined streets and overlooking the sea, Catholic churches and mosques, but there’s no hiding the ravages of underdevelopment that we encounter in a few hours.

Guard at Presidential Palace in Dakar, Senegal

lighting from the bus to visit a market under the trees by the sea, my nostrils are accosted by a smell so putrid, I can hardly breathe. With Edmundo telling me to be quiet as I sound like a tourist, I take a proffered handwipe cloth and cover my nose. The local guide dismisses the odour as ‘fishmarkets’ but it can only be sewers. And the beach nearby is piled with hundreds of fishing boats. A public health hazard surely!

Monument de la Renaissance Africaine - a 49m tall bronze statue located on top of one of the twin hills known as Collines des Mamelles, outside of Dakar, Senegal. It is the tallest in the world

Michael and Edmundo - The colour of Africa reflected in an urban mural outside the market, by the sea in Dakar, Senegal

View Photos. CLICK HERE

raia, the capital of Santiago Island in the Cape Verde group is a city with a pulse, compared to Santo Antão that can boast of stunning beauty with its peaks, valleys, volcano and rugged coastline.

The colonial town centre of Praia is on a plateau with colourful ancient buildings and monuments attesting to the Portuguese past, but today the Creole population and lifestyle is more akin to that of West Africa. Women carry everything from vegetables to fruit and fish on their heads, and witnessing this colourful local custom adds special attraction to our visit to the Municipal Markets in the centre of town.

Street band entertains as we hit the main square

Straight backs!

e seem to be speeding towards the coast of West Africa, or perhaps I’m speeding up with the excitement of getting to our first port of call there, Dakar in Senegal, for a just a few hours tomorrow afternoon. As the time is so short ashore, Edmundo and I relented, and bought another ‘tour’ to have the best chance of seeing the main sights. If that German woman, who coughs and doesn’t cover her mouth comes anywhere near us in the confines of the minibus , it will be I who crowns her.

View Photos CLICK HERE

A day of dramatic peaks, valleys and volcano, ending up with fresh fish right from the fishermen’s boats that come in through the surf to sell their catch on the sand outside the restaurant for lunch.

A hand of cards at a young age on Santo Antão in the Cape Verde Islands

Schoolchild in Ponta de Sol on Santo Antão

View Photos – CLICK HERE.

ere at the Salobre Sheraton Resort on Gran Canaria, a man-made green golf spot in what appears to be a barren volcanic landscape, where the only plant life seems to be Canary Island palms – surprising? And in this notoriously dry Spanish island in the Atlantic, it has to be bucketing down rain when we visit.

Silver Wind at anchor at our first port of call, Porto Novo on Santo Antão in the Cape Verde Islands (300 miles off the West coast of Africa)

We board the ‘Silver Wind’ at lunch time and then have two days at sea before our first ports of call in the Cape Verde islands; Porto Novo on Santo Antão, and then Praia on Isla de Santiago. Dakar Senegal the next day is the first port in Africa. Going ashore on three days in a row – oh well!

But then I have three more days at sea before Takoradi in Ghana. I’ll know a lot more about the history of the slave trade, greed and human misery after visits to these West African centres. I’d always imagined that it was the Americans who started this inhumane transportation, but I’m already learning that European powers did battle for supremacy in the seaports along the West African coast and in the Cape Verde Islands from as early as the 15th century to get the upper hand. Stronger African tribal chiefs also profiteered by capturing people from weaker communities and selling them to the Europeans.

I can dwell on this sailing on down the coast for four more lazy sea days before hitting Namibia with the Skeleton Coast and high sand hills, and finally, Cape Town in South Africa.

All at sea

More photos to follow when internet speed improves

Click here to view photos.

Michael literally 'skating on thin ice' at the 15 C Carthusian Monastery of Certosa di Pavia

About an hour’s drive from Milan this 15th century Monastery that used to house a cloistered monastic order of Carthusian monks rises from the fog to greet us in the early morning. We are in time for Mass in one of the smaller decorated chapels.

Later a monk from Eritrea walks us through the snow-covered cloisters into the locked Holy of Holies in the main Basilica, which shares the same architect as the Cathedral of Milan. Stained glass, and ceilings coloured blue with powdered lapis lazuli are but small first things that grab the eye as we enter this cavernous structure, an example of Renaissance architecture.

The sun is starting to break through as we get to the Sunday Markets in the university town of Pavia. Tastes of local salami and cheeses at the stalls has me ready for good antipasti for lunch.

But it’s seafood that I settle on. Fishermen friends of the owners of the trattoria make a stop here in Pavia every morning on their way to the Fish Markets in Milan to deliver them the freshest seafood, straight from the seas around Puglia. Homemade Scialatielli alla Pescatora is my pasta dish, leaving barely sufficient appetite for the grilled scampi. I miss the extra garlic and a touch of chilli that I’m now accustomed to with Walter at La Vecchia Cucina in Sydney. A jug of local Puglia white wine, so light and frizzante tops off the simple meal.

In the afternoon, a visit to a Monet Exhibition in the 14th century Castlello Visconteo in Pavia completes a perfect winter’s Sunday. I learn from Monet . . .

First day of Summer in Australia, but very much my first day of Winter here in Italy.

Love that smell of the cold as I emerge into the aerobridge at Malpensa Airport. But very soon, it’s the feeling of creeping cold seeping through to my bones in the Airport car park that has me rummaging in my luggage to retrieve my good old NZ possum and merino jacket.

Driving into Milan as the early morning grey becomes steelier and more sinister, the only light becomes the occasional flashing yellow sign ‘Neve’, a warning of snow for motorists. Doesn’t take long for the rain to change to sticky little patches of white splattering the windows.

All precipitation has stopped by the time I wake and step out to dinner in an authentic little Sicilian trattoria on Via Savona. The simple cuisine of Sicily has a sweetness rather than spice. I can leave the spleen tasting like fattier aerated slices of fried liver, but enjoy the slices of raw tuna and swordfish, smoked instead of the sashimi that I’m accustomed to. Home made pasta with squid is a pretty tasteless affair, simply filling. Crushed almonds in with the breadcrumbs on a breaded veal cutlet with a squeeze of lemon and a sprinkle of salt, makes for a plain but wonderful main meal.

And so back to the Principe di Savoia Hotel for a good night’s rest.

Depart Sydney tomorrow for Milan and then a flight to Las Palmas to join the 'Silver Wind'

Qantas A380 ready for takeoff to Dubai with City of Sydney in the background

Emirates Boeing 777 from Dubai to Milan

Click here to view PHOTO ALBUM showing pics from a lovely pre-Christmas dinner hosted by my nephew Bill.

fter ignoring me for the past year, retreating, screaming and hugging mummy’s legs for grim death at even the slightest approach from a once-doting grand uncle, I was ‘run-ragged’ by the ‘child’ calling out to me from across the lane, in between running himself silly in circles through rows of tables at the nearby restaurants. He needs a brother or a little sister. Nephew Bill?

Nephew Bill and Mindy with their little angel (in this photo) Jude and grand-uncle Michael, at Wilbur's in Llangkelly Place

Thank you Wilbur’s manager, Anthony, for the bowl of chips, the juice in a paper cup, sensibly presented with a lid on, and then the ice cream with cooking-chocolate bits added to amuse ‘the child’, and finally the babycino. And not a broken glass or plate in the whole evening.

“It’s so funny”, says ‘the child’.

MIndy and Jude - 3 years, 8 months

 

t Canice’s opened 125 years ago next May with a Haydn Mass; with many dignitaries; with much aplomb. We are a poor church in comparison to those heady early days of the new colony. Hopefully, this past Sunday could well be a foretaste of what we might expect in May 2014 as part of the Quasquicentennial celebrations.

After the Mass, one parishioner tearfully summed-up the experience recalling his late wife always saying, “you’ll know you’re in heaven when you hear the music!”

 

limbing up Bell Bird Hill from Richmond on the Hawkesbury River with the windows down, the loud tinkling of the little bellbirds from the undergrowth is interrupted only by a huge crack through the air from a whip bird getting in on the act.

As we arrive at Gerhard’s in Kurrajong Heights, the rains came, and thank God they went, allowing the visitors to traipse down through the soggy green grass around the dams, and through the gardens of Gerhard’s Blue Mountains property..

In the mists of the rain - too wet for the planned lunch in the gazebo on the edge of dam #1

All the while, the big leg of lamb that he had put in the oven on low heat earlier this morning is cooking to a tender loveliness. And the addition of tomato and onion to the rosemary garnish adds such great flavour to the juices that I’m soaking the slices of meat in before putting on the sandwiches.

Slow-roasted leg of lamb

Visitor Bill from Northern Ireland and Andrew

'New Dawn' pink rose on trellis outside Gerhard's dining room

Yes, hot roast lamb – on a sandwich, but not an ordinary sandwich. Warmed, crusty soft bialys from my favourite Langkelly Place diner, Wilbur’s, and lashings of Agnes Stuart’s ‘Royal Show’ chutney, make for a most delicious repast – with a fresh salad, lettuce from the garden, of course.

On the way home, we take tourist Bill to see the Francis Greenway Anglican Church in the small early settlement town of Windsor. In the churchyard, it’s even more interesting to see a grave of one of the convicts who arrived in Australia on a ship of the First Fleet.

CLICK HERE to view photos of this outing in the Blue Mountains

can’t think of anything better on a mild summer’s day than a trip to the beach and a spot of lunch at one of my favourite beachside restaurants, open to the sea breezes. I ask myself why we travel to exotic places when we have it all here? And it’s even more of a treat when I have a visitor in tow. They love it!

It’s almost impossible to better the experience of a beachside table at Doyle’s Beach Restaurant – Established 1885 in Watson’s Bay.

Doyle’s is a bit of a tourist trap, but if I manage to land one of the beachside tables a couple of metres from the sand and sea, it’s worth paying them to let us sit down! And now that they’re finally accepting the American Express Card, I will be back.

Doyle's on the Beach at Watson's Bay

The famous Australian whiting was on the menu today – you can’t go past it for delicate flavour, and I love that dash of brown vinegar to dip it in as a change from the tartare sauce.

Portofino! Villefranche-sur-Mer! Sydney!

ver on the Pacific Ocean coastline of Sydney’s eastern suburbs, is a restaurant and a view of another kind – at ‘Seasalt’ restaurant in Clovelly. Fish and Chips again! Great.

Whiting fillets - beachside

Michael under the large canopy of the Moreton Bay Fig tree at Watson's Bay

CLICK HERE TO VIEW PHOTO ALBUM

Railaco Children’s Feeding Program:

Simply routine for long-time volunteer, Christina and the novices from the convent nearby to the Railaco Mission, but there’s many a heart-wrenching moment for city slickers like us unfamiliar with being at the ‘coal face’ and witnessing the gratitude of little children in this Railaco Feeding Program in three remote mountain villages.

Haunting Eyes of this little girl at Lebdodon village waiting for the meal

NIne years ago, motherly instincts ignited fellow-traveller Sue’s passion for doing something about the dreadful malnutrition and undersized babies that she saw on her first visit here. It was incomprehensible to her seeing goats that weren’t being milked and chickens producing eggs, such great sources of protein, that wasn’t being used to feed the children.

The opportunity to provide education of this most basic nature, coupled with finding a way to provide a nutritious meal for these children could not be ignored. This imperative emboldened a support group, recently formed by Fr Steve at the St Canice’s Jesuit parish in Sydney to stand in solidarity with modern-day missionaries like Filipino doctor and Jesuit Fr Bong, and others to provide funding for the existing Jesuit Mission in Railaco to do the job.

Eight years later, volunteer nurse Christina is still running the Children’s Feeding Program in Railaco Mission preparing and taking a nutritious meal to children in three villages three times a week.

And we were privileged enough to tag along.

 

Michael and Novice Sister Rita

 

CLICK HERE to view Picasa Photo Album

Click arrow to play video.

I was a special guest at the Shiffers, close neighbours from a previous apartment building in Double Bay, Bibaringa, last night for the Jewish evening home ritual to ‘welcome the Shabbat’.

A

fter working hard for six days, following God, we welcome the seventh day for rest.

What’s happened to that ‘day of rest’ in this modern world?

After being initiated in this Jewish of Jewish traditions by a Jewish Jesuit in Jerusalem last week, and visiting the synagogue for the evening service, there was even greater significance in being part of this ritual in a Jewish home here in Sydney. While at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem, I picked up two yarmulkes, the Jewish skull caps, and brought them back for Sidney and me to wear on this occasion.

While at the Wailing Wall in Jerusalem, I picked up two yarmulkes, the Jewish skull caps, and brought them back for Sidney and me. (Click to enlarge)

As I mentioned in my recent blog, it’s hard to believe that it’s taken 71 years of my otherwise ‘worldly’ pursuits before participating in this special Jewish tradition. I can’t blame my education, and disregard of other Faith traditions solely on ‘blinkered’ Irish nuns – they were out of my life more than half a century ago.

But better late than never!

Sidney has removed the cover from the two challah loaves, lifting them while reciting the following blessing. Pearl slices and Nannette and passes around the table, so that each person may have a piece.  Let the party begin! Chicken liver and brisket

Oy vay!  My sister-in-law, Jenny loves the matching cuffs, collar and skull cap.

onverted to the importance and solemnity of this age-old tradition, for my gentile friends, I now share what happens in this weekly ritual.