Dam temples and tombs

It depends on who tells the story about Upper Egypt as to what version you get. With not a golf course in sight, whose version would you like to hear?

Like the little white ball, the pursuit of temples and tombs can be an obsession or a passion. From Abu Simbel to Luxor there are eighteen significant archaeological sites, each lined with a number of hazards. However for Jan, taking photos was par for the course.

Straight down the fairway to Aswan where the green keeper cum tour guide offered two seats with a caddy on the next flight to Abu Simbel; “For you, special price!!” Ten minutes later we had boarding cards for seats on an ancient DC9 salvaged from an Arizona pension yard and faithfully restored (we hoped) to service the daily tourist shuttles. A successful landing after the twenty minute flight was like a hole-in-one!! The short bus ride through the village of Abu Simbel was quick compared to negotiating our way through the fifty coaches in the parking area and the numerous relentless vendors next to the visitors centre.

With an English-speaking guide to assist us we hit off, or is that headed off beside Lake Nasser. A dogleg to the left and there it was; WOW! The 20-meter high statues of Ramses II at Abu Simbel; just like every National Geographic you have read, large and commanding. Carved in rock, at the entrance of the Great Temple, the quarteted sentinel watches for friend or foe sailing into the Pharaoh’s lands. Inside the sacred innermost chamber Ramses sits with three Gods waiting for dawn, aligned to capture the early morning sun’s rays just two days each year. Being the first temple of our Christmas adventure into the cradle of civilisation, we were more than fascinated by every detail. The smaller temple of Hathor was dedicated by Ramses II to Queen Nefertari, his favourite of 34 wives. Carved out of the mountain over three thousand years ago, the temples of Abu Simbel were lost to the desert sands until 1813 then made even more famous by the relocation to avoid their flooding by Lake Nasser in 1970. The majestical grandeur, history, design and construction, the carved images, beautiful reliefs and hieroglyphics that adorn each and every wall and column, are all breathtaking and cause you to stop and absorb them.

Approaching the green at Aswan we stayed on the fairway rather than let our caddy tempt us into his brother’s pro shop; in fact a perfume salon. We chipped onto our Nile cruise ship to watch rays of sunlight and clouds play on the high cliffs honeycombed with Tombs of Noblemen.

Off to take in the town, a four iron was enough to clear the horse drawn carriages and their vocal drivers, all touting to assist us; or was it to help themselves to our cash. That was minor compared to the traps of the market street. Jan was most impressed with the photo opportunities afforded by the colourful spice stores and galabaya shops. The major hazard on this hole was the deception of the pound. At ten Egyptian pounds to one English pound, the merchants were keen to exploit the tourists. With direct flights from the UK and Europe into Aswan and Luxor, the ability of the merchants to relieve tourists of the burden in their wallets was exceeded only by their deceptions and lies.

On completion of the first round, a late afternoon “G and T” on the terrace of the Old Cataract Hotel, one of Egypt’s most famous and historic hotels, was a welcome treat. What a marvellous location on the east bank of the river opposite the Nubian village on Elephantine Island. Moorish in style, the interior was used in the movie “Death on the Nile”. This is also in our book “One thousand things to do before you die!” Only 999 to go! To keep like-minded tourists at bay, the management set a flag fall for this hole almost like losing four balls to the water. A splendid sunset over the desert with felucca captains entertaining their tourists in the narrows of the river was a sight to behold.

An early morning tee off at one of the pink granite quarries was worth the effort. Famous for the unfinished obelisk which was abandoned 2,500 years due to cracks, this quarry produced several obelisks which were transported down the Nile to temples at Luxor. One has even found its way to the Place de Concorde in Paris. Equally as fascinating was a one meter diameter partially finished wheel lying near the “quay” where granite blocks were floated down the Nile during floods.

Next tee was the Aswan High Dam. Constructed with assistance from Russia in the 1960’s to form Lake Nasser it is hailed as one of the greatest works of hydraulic engineering of the twentieth century. Averaging 10 kilometres in width and one of the world’s largest artificial lakes it stretches 510 kilometres to Sudan. This gianormous water hazard is surrounded by an even bigger sand trap.

Below the High Dam the Temple of Philae, which dates back to 246BC, was swamped for six months every year after the construction of the “low” dam in 1901. In the 1960’s a rescue by Unesco relocated this “Pearl of Egypt” brick by brick to the Island of Agilkia. Isis, the goddess of magic and symbolic mother of the pharaohs who had become the greatest of all Egyptian gods and worshipped across the Roman Empire was honoured in the Inner Sanctuary of this temple. Hathor, goddess of love and pleasure and patron of music and dancing (sex and drugs and rock-n-roll!!) is honoured with her own temple. Returning across the river, the hazard was the discussion about “who pays the ferryman”.

Back on deck we 3 wooded downstream with many of the 280 tourist ships that ply the river. The Nile travels 6,680 km to make it the world’s longest river. It begins life from two sources, 1500 km apart; a bit more than a par 5!! The White Nile starts at Lake Victoria in Uganda and meets the Blue Nile, which rises in the Ethiopian Highlands, at Khartoum in Sudan.

Over the millenniums, river travel has changed from papyrus bundles to elaborate wooden boats with multiple sets of oars to present day floating hotels. The ritual of life on the shore however has hardly changed. Since biblical time, donkey’s nay, children play, soil is tilled and harvested; rhythms like the flow are ceaseless. Sitting in a comfortable chair on the large top deck makes for an easy journey with a constant travelogue unfolding.

On the east bank travelling down stream from Upper Egypt while heading north, is Kom Ombo, a temple dedicated to two gods: the crocodile god Sobek representing the might of the pharaohs and the falcon god of the sky Horus, the son of Isis. In ancient time sacred crocodiles basked in the sun on the riverbanks; there are mummified remains of these revered creatures in the temple. Animal mummies were used as offerings, or as gifts to the god associated with them. A bit creepy, but they were quite intact; a testament to the standard of preservation. The temple is in great condition and the art-work carved into the layer of gypsum over the stone is as clear as the day it was made over 3,000 years ago. Most of the carved figures at the various temples are all dressed in some form of clothing, some more ornate than others. However, a pharaonic cousin of Hugh Hefner inspired some of the artists at Kom Ombo!!

The water hazard at the temples is the Nilometer, an underground canal flowing from the river to a well with a graduated column. During flood time the High Priest would assess the height of water in the well to forecast the size of the harvest and thus set the tax rate for the coming year.

Down the next fairway a glorious sunset cast dreamlike shades on the narrow strip of green and the vast barren plains of the western desert. Mooring at Edfu, 60 km towards Luxor, we celebrated the festive season with a European flavour and had a formal Christmas Eve dinner. While we dined St Nic was busy, what an unforgettable sight waking up to presents as a felucca sailed past. I could not help myself and said to Peter: “Do you know we are in Egypt, sailing down the Nile” Ha Ha!!!

The soft light of dawn illuminated the temple of Horus and arriving by horse drawn carriage was surreal. Constructed in 237BC; “ancient” does not illustrate the wonderment. These structures make a Greg Norman golf course seem an easy task. The coloured hieroglyphic texts on the walls of this temple were resplendent. This extraordinary library was almost lost in time, being completely buried by sand until 1860. It took 40 years for Egyptologists to publish an epigraphic survey of all the information.

The departure by carriage was like hitting out of the rough. About two hundred carriages were inside the gate in utter chaos. Our carriage was facing the wrong way and the fracas associated with turning a four wheel horse drawn carriage around in a space only big enough to cope with a Golf Cart was too much. We finished up getting another carriage. On return to the boat another fracas developed about how much should be paid to the new caddy. Fortunately the Captain intervened as he cast off and set sail.

We were Number 1 boat off the white blocks at Edfu, down the fairway to the dam at Esna and in the queue for the lock. With nearly 280 boats on the river doing 4 days up and 3 days back there can be a long queue each day. The drop through the lock is 8 meters. The process was interesting with the boats designed to only just fit in the lock. The rest of the afternoon was pleasant as we meandered downstream to Luxor between feluccas and passing riverside villages to putt in at sunset.

A walk along the Corniche before dinner took us past many cruise ships, hotels and tourist shops. As Jan came into their sight, the eyes of the shopkeepers lit up with delight!! Tempt as they may with special bargains, sadly for them, Jan returned empty handed.

Morning was bright, we brought out the big driver and to the sweet sound of a long high ball we were off to the famous Valley of the Kings on the west bank. Travelling past Howard Carter’s house, the artist turned archaeologist who found Tutankhamen’s tomb, we played through a group of young tourists riding donkeys. From the bunker in this isolated valley, a short iron took us to the first of 60 tombs of Pharaohs and Princes from the middle dynasty of 2200BC. We chipped into three.

Carved out of the limestone valley, each tomb was an engineering exercise. The steep sloping passages, barely wide enough for the granite sarcophagus (or coffin) opened out to a funerary chamber with a number of smaller side chambers each of which symbolised a stage on the journey to the after life. All the walls and ceilings are decorated with sculptured paintings in a layer of gypsum; colours for the paintings were derived from minerals. The clarity, colour and crispness of the art are breathtaking. With no torches or candles, how the craftsmen introduced adequate light to develop the intricate paintings and hieroglyphics is difficult to comprehend. We were told later the use of mirrors provided the illumination; but where did the mirrors come from? The sarcophagus containing the pharaoh’s mummy was placed in the inner chamber, which was filled with treasures to send the deceased Pharaoh on his journey to immortality as illustrated on the walls. Tombs were sealed with a keystone to make it difficult for robbers. Many of the tombs in this valley remained sealed until recent times, with Tutankhamen’s found only in 1922. Archaeologists are still digging, getting many of their leads from the odd donkey falling into the site. Ours was only to admire the work of four thousand years ancient.

It was also fascinating to observe the tourists, some who came in family groups with their own mummy.

The fifteenth ran up to the Temple of Queen Hatshepsut, reputed to be the Pharaonic equivalent of Evita who showed the boys how to run the place. Built beneath the cliff line at the head of a valley facing east to overlook Luxor on the Nile, this temple has a long fairway and a wide approach. The sculptures and artwork have survived three thousand years in this harsh desert. The surrounding cliffs house the tombs of many high priests and noblemen. To the west is the Valley of the Queens where the wives and children of the Pharaohs were entombed. Although these tombs are smaller, the artwork is as ornate as the tombs of the Pharaohs.

Crossing the Nile on a ferry, we arrived at Luxor Temple with its magnificent columns and granite statues of Ramses II. Modern politicians who think they know about photo opportunities pale into insignificance alongside Ramses II. During his seventy-year rule Ramses commissioned tens of huge statues of himself to be carved from Aswan granite and transported to strategic locations around the empire. At the time Luxor was the capital city of the region, which extended from the Ethiopian border east across and somewhere past the Sinai and north to the Mediterranean Sea. Little evidence remains of the mud brick houses, mansions and palaces, but the temples were built for immortality and most have stood the test of time. The three-kilometre Avenue of Sphinxes, sentinels that link the temples of Luxor and Karnak are an ancient roadmap.

Karnak Temple, set in seventy acres of riverside land is the “piece de resistance”. Thebans called Karnak the most perfect of all places. Built and added to by a number of Pharaohs over 1,500 years this temple has many features from granite obelisks to a Hypostyle Hall of 134 columns each two metres in diameter and 15 meters high, in a space of three tennis courts. Imagine being surrounded and mesmerized by history and better, being able to touch it. Silhouetted glimpses of light play among the columns; the Hypostyle Hall was so immense you felt dwarfed and awed.

Farewelling new friends at the end of this extraordinary lesson in ancient history and culture, we disembark and make our way to the nineteenth. Refreshed by a drink and dinner at the Old Winter Palace, overlooking the Nile beyond the temples and tombs to the Western Desert, we thank our caddy and return to our golf club in Cairo.

Spring into Europe

Having survived winter in Cairo with temperatures of a modest fifteen degrees and not wanting to endure more dust storms and strong winds which signal Spring in Egypt we set off for a couple of weeks in the greener (actually whiter) pastures of Europe.

Prague airport late in the evening is like a ghost town. The pre-booked taxi driver met us as planned which was a relief as there were no other taxis in sight. And no wonder; who would be out in a snow storm with temperatures around minus twelve?

Atop the hilly west bank sits Prague Castle looking like a monumental fortress with its collection of buildings and courtyards; the Good King Wenceslas knew how to look after himself. Floodlit, the palace beckoned us from the windows of our room in the 300-year-old Hotel U Pava; a charming hotel on a gas lit street downstream from the 700 year old gothic style Charles Bridge. Recent renovations accommodate the needs of modern travellers however the antique furnishings and lead light windows were preserved, as were the cellar and restaurant.

Sunlight replaced floodlights and we ventured out to explore the wonders of the old city dressed in all our winter survival gear to cope with the clear blue skies, minus five degrees and the chill factor associated with the lazy breeze direct from the Arctic; and this is spring! Our footsteps echoed in the narrow cobblestone streets, their melody leading the way to the magnificent 300 year old Estates Theatre, which was one of Mozart’s favourites and featured in the film Amadeus. Then to the Town Square which dates back to the tenth century with a skyline perspective that mirrors the city of a hundred spires. The medieval market place in the central square has been replaced by international tourists with digital cameras and cell phones who watch the world go by from the shade of umbrellas in sidewalk cafes. Sitting in a sun filled café in minus two degrees we succumbed to a glass of gluhwein and a dish of traditional goulash and dumplings to ward off the cold. The “Astronomical Clock” in the square has been advising wanderers and residents not only the time but also sunrise, sunset and phases of the moon for six centuries with a quaint routine.

Buildings and bridges in the old city offer a panorama of architectural choices, Romanesque, Gothic, Barque, Neo Classical and Art Nouveau styles, the finishes are as wonderful as the colours are varied. The concession to the twenty first century is the technology of the display lighting in ground floor shops and restaurants. Elsewhere door frames and cobblestones chronicle the history of this city which has seen several different rules since the Kings of Bohemia. Walking upstream past several bridges and locks the “dancing houses” are a modern statement to shock the old school of architects. Unlike the tower in Pisa, one of two five-story buildings was deliberately constructed on a lean and joined at the upper floors to give the impression of a couple dancing. Some imagination is required; otherwise it is probably just outrageous and rather irreverent amongst its classic neighbours.

En route to the Charles Bridge, Prague’s most recognised icon, we succumbed to the temptation of a wine tasting at a small cellar. What a surprise; three whites and three reds from the best of the local vignerons. Then on to the bridge which is the oldest and most decorated of seven joining the old city to the palace side of the river. Lined with 36 Baroque Saints, Charles Bridge is now dedicated to pedestrians. The noonday sun found it full of artists and buskers as well as hundreds of tourists, and it was only early spring. A treat was the little round man with his red jumper, felt hat and wide grin winding a mobile hurdy-gurdy with great gusto, complete with toy monkey on the side of the organ grinder. The combination of organ, accordion, chimes and drum played all the classical tunes which some loved and stayed to listen. Others less cultured than ourselves thought it “tragic” and moved on. The little round man with the smiling face was not deterred, pausing only to sell his CDs!!

Seeking a bird’s eye view of the city we took the funicular railroad and were rewarded with springtide peeks of Prague, lightly dusted in snow white. The driver warded off the cold with a sleeveless jumper over his short sleeve shirt; tourists wore parkas and gloves while the residents of the hill had full length fur coats. Seasoned by the moderate winter of Cairo, the teeth chattering cold finally chased us back to our hotel. A warm glowing fire was a welcome comfort.

The cellar with its low cosy ceiling brush stroked with chubby cherubs in flirtatious whimsical poses set the mood for a wonderful dining experience with regional dishes of duck and pork. The Czech red wine recommended by the waiter was superb. We favour provincial delicacies and wine, immersing ourselves in the local culture.

Overnight chill changed the mood on the Charles Bridge; the statues under a dusting of snow had become magical. Gone were the buskers and tourists; we shared the moment with the swans who journey on the Vltava River. The frosted castle on high silhouetted the dreamlike picture.

We boarded our express train, bidding farewell to Prague; next stop Vienna. Snow across Czechoslovakia and Austria with a hint of spring growth made for a picturesque journey.

Our time in Vienna was a mixture of culture and seeking necessities that cannot be sourced in Cairo. The hotel, like the one in Prague was chosen from our book “One thousand things to do before you die” and we were not disappointed with the “King of Hungary” or the staff. In the shadow of the gothic St Stephens Cathedral, the hotel is relatively new being built in 1815. After a lengthy discussion with Michel at reception we were pointed in the direction of the Albertina for the exhibition of Egon Schiele, an arrogant young artist from the turn of the century who, like the recent architect in Prague, was out to shock the world with his paintings of nude ladies.

Battling on through the snow and ice on the pavements, we were awed with the grandeur of the 100 year old Kunsthistorisches fine art museum and its extraordinary collections by Dutch, French and Italian artists of the 16th century. The treasures are housed in palatial galleries of exquisite red coral veined marble, if only the walls could tell the tales of old. To enhance the treasures, a story is told of a theatre designer who was employed to bring the exhibitions into the 20th century. He took his work so seriously he slept in the museum’s various rooms to watch how the light played among the pieces. The result is a visual masterpiece. The antiquities of Greece and Rome are as glorious as their history; Egyptian antiquities and pyramid models are so lifelike you can almost hear the palace gossip and the chants of the workers. Light has given the treasures life. Talking of the Pharaohs, walking back to St Stephen’s Platz we passed an Egypt Air office and a shop selling “Sheesha pipes”, which reminded us Egypt never seems to be far away.

Vienna has many attractions; we enjoyed a training session of the Lipizzaner horses of the Spanish Riding School in a section of the Palace. Founded in 1572 the school preserves classic dressage in its purest form with magnificent white horses performing succinct movements to time honoured traditions. The end of our day was dinner at the “White Chimneysweep” it was superb. One of many great restaurants in Vienna, it’s a charming story of a chimney sweep who had an affair with the baker’s wife and would return to duty covered in a dusting of flour. We didn’t see any dusty footprints, maybe too early in the evening!

Another of Vienna’s attractions is the great food. For fun and pleasure we conducted a survey of Sascher Torte, the famous chocolate cake – the recipe is a well guarded secret but does include choc sponge, strawberry jam and dark choc icing. Starting at the coffee shop of the Hotel Sascher, we gave their cake good marks. Moving on past the Mozart Statue, more galleries and shoe shops in the high street we sampled round two of Sascher Torte at Demel, the “other” famous cake shop. After careful study and consideration we awarded first prize to the Hotel Sascher.

Demel contributes to Vienna’s reputation as the pastry capital of Europe, serving more than sixty types of pastries with the glass walled kitchen open to the view of café patrons. Another of their treats was drinking chocolate bars; “melt 100 grams in a cup of hot milk” the recipe said. Later in St Anton, we confirmed it was chocoholic heaven.

Walking back from the not so blue Danube to our hotel we passed the famous Figimuller restaurant which has been serving Wiener Schnitzels for over one hundred years. We made a reservation for after the 6 PM flute recital at the Vienna Music Hall and we were not disappointed with either choice. The “musicverein” has several chambers and the recital was in one of the smaller rooms. The flutist had set music to words and after each bracket the speaker gave a review. Too bad they were in German!!! The plate covering schnitzels and local white wine were easier to decipher!!

Next day under a spring blue sky we set off to the train station for the journey across Austria to St Anton. During this journey our quiet, mild mannered “Darby and Joan” metamorphosed into “Tarzan and Jane”, ready to conquer the ski slopes of the Arlberg.

The panorama car lived up to its name, offering huge viewing windows, drawing the mountains into the wagon. After Innsbruck, the plains of Mozart’s Salzburg were replaced by the mountains of the Alps. St Anton was magnificent. Soon after arrival we were into our apartment at 1,300 meters across the road from the bottom station of Galzig Bahn, the main cable car to the top of the resort. The view over the home run to Galzig Peak and across to the 2,900 high point of Valluga was breathtaking. Our welcome was the gentle flutter of large white snowflakes, Tarzan had a big smile and I thought a chest beat and a blood curdling yippie was possible. Kirsten (Peter’s daughter) arrived next morning and we outfitted with skis and boots, except Jan who after looking at the steep slopes and distinct lack of pink runs declined both skis and snowshoes, choosing instead a non skier cable car pass to record the super-skiers in their panoramic playground. Watch out for them at www.pcandjt.com

The sunrise showed the valley in bright clear light that shone and sparkled in the snow like thousands of diamonds against an azure endless space void of clouds and breeze. Spring skiing that you dream about. RA was right!! “If you live right, everything goes right!!” Our super skiers set off on the steepest blue run to get their ski feet in order. Jan came on the cable car and reported “they did OK”. We skied all day and exhausted ourselves, so we thought; until the next day, when we skied at Lech.

Unlike St Anton, Lech is a wide valley with an icy stream dividing the hotels and bars from the ski lifts. Horse draw sleighs complete the picture perfect scene. After endless miles of exhilarating runs all over the hills and mountains we got home to our apartment and could not move!!! Early to bed and slow to rise to yet another day of clear blue skies and snow measured in meters rather than inches. We soared like an eagles flight in the Valluga cable car to the very top of St Anton’s mountains at 2,900 meters where we enjoyed the most scenic lunch you could imagine from our own eyres vantage point. 360 degrees of massive and steep snow covered mountains in the best of weather and looking down on 4,000 vertical feet of slopes; halfway from Mt Kosciusko to the sea. Nature pure and simple, large and tall, we felt small. Our super skiers reluctantly left their wonderland only when the ski lifts closed at the end of the day. Kirsten departed to join her friend Elizabeth, to begin another adventure; Elizabeth’s wedding at Citadella, near Venice.

St Anton continued to delight us with sapphire skies and still air for the rest of the week, ideal late season skiing. Hundreds of photos and squillions of turns later our week came to an end with an afternoon walk to Verwall, a magnificent pine forest in a valley to the west of St Anton. After the swish, swirl and pace of downhill skiing, walking among frozen waterfalls and trees whose branches were heavy with ice and snow, thick and soft like luxurious duck down, was a change of pace. A gentle perambulation in this pristine environment was a wonderful farewell to a sensational spring holiday. Peter is already planning next year’s adventure; Grindelwald in Switzerland is the frontrunner at the moment.

Peter had skied at St Anton twenty years ago. He concluded the new technology skis are not as fast as the old style!!

The train through the Arlberg Pass and Lichetenstein to Zurich and on through the Alps to Como was superb. Through mountains and alpine vistas, past meadows, lakes and villages into Zurich city then on through the tunnels and passes of the mountains to Italy; again the dining car was a hit!! We really enjoy train travel!!

Lake Como’s steep hills draw you to the water, beautiful villas dot the foreshore and are reflected in the aqua, the lake’s traffic is like brush strokes on a moving watercolour. It is magnificent and is one of our favourite places. We agree with Stendahl “the blue green waters of Lake Como and the grandeur of the alps make it the most beautiful place in the world”. This time we stayed at the southern end of the lake and had views from three sets of double windows: alps, lake and waterfront promenade with its restaurants; different hues of a dream tapestry.

Bellagio is a picturesque village at the junction of the two southern arms. Travelling by hydrofoil afforded close ups of grand villas and village life and like most tourists we disembarked at Bellagio to savour the gardens, galleries and cappuccinos of this historical village. On the sides of a hilly peninsula, silk worms have been busy for centuries and the locally produced scarves and ties are world renowned. The tie Bill Clinton wore on the cover of Time was from Bellagio. Not to be outdone, George Bush is regularly photographed with a tie from the same Pierangelo Masciardri’s gallery. Creating his own style of silk art, exploring visual icons to narrate different histories, the gallery is draped with a variety of wonderful scarves, ties and handbags.

Pierangelo mentioned he did a charity silk scarf to mark the second millennium anniversary of the Roman Catholic Church. An image of the first Pope in the centre is surrounded by images of all the Popes to the current Pope Benedict. The background is white with the images bordered in papal red. At first we were shown the paper draft, but after Jan took a few photos and shared Pierangelo’s enthusiasm, we were treated to the real thing, the first silk scarf of the 100 printed. Sold for charity by the church in Como for one million lire each (AUD 100,000) there are still a few left - we have the phone number if you are interested. Jan declined a scarf but we left with a silver grey silk tie and matching pocket handkerchief for my suit.

Steep steps down narrow alleyways invite exploration; quiet charm and old architecture entice the imagination, galleries brimming with treasures smooth as silk. Along the waterfront the mansions and gardens are storehouses of visual extravaganzas. Back to the wharf and onto the ferry for another enjoyable journey on the lake described by Wordsworth as “a treasure which the earth keeps to itself”.

An icon of luxury and style was our next adventure, Cernobbio the village of Villa D’Este is a few kilometres from Como. The gateman invited us to explore this unique hotel. Set in ten acres of formal gardens on the shore in a small cove on the lake this former cardinal’s private pleasure palace has been host to the rich and famous for several centuries. We told the gateman Jan was going to be famous!! We took in the waterfront with its floating swimming pool while relaxing with a cappuccino. The loo was like an art gallery!! The ground floor lounges, bar, reception room and jewellery shop were magnificent in their splendour: chandeliers, Persian and Chinese rugs and exquisite furnishings. To reach the garden we passed a red Ferrari and blue Porsche outside the reception, a far cry from the cardinal’s horse drawn carriage. The gardens were coming alive with the spring waking rhododendrons and azaleas, colour, buds and leaves all sprouting a loud welcome. These sights are why we are so fond of Lake Como.

Our spring in Europe has sprung. Cairo welcomed us with the onset of hot summer days and cool nights; Darby and Joan are back and ski gear stored for next season.