Tag: Europe

It sounds like something from a futuristic fantasy book. People floating above the city on their way to work, or to go shopping, or for a night out. Even though Medellín, Colombia was the first city to use cable cars for mass transit, it’s La Paz in Bolivia which has made them the backbone of the city’s public transport system.

Plus ça change

I first visited La Paz in the year 2000. At the turn of the century the city was heavily reliant on buses to whisk people around the city. ‘Whisk’, however, is probably the wrong word for commutes which could take up to 3 hours, one way.

Returning to La Paz in 2018 I noticed that the city hadn’t changed all that much. Ladies in bowler hats still sold piles of produce in Mercado Rodríguez. The 18th century Basílica de San Francisco still stood grandly over Plaza San Francisco. Poverty was still apparent. But some things had changed.

It was no longer possible to take an unofficial tour of San Pedro prison. A hideously ugly new presidential palace in the form of a glass skyscraper had sprouted above the historic centre. And cable cars had appeared. Everywhere.

Flying high

When you’re in La Paz you’re already standing pretty high up in the air. 3,640 metres, to be precise. El Alto is even higher. At 4,000 metres it’s the highest major city in the world. If the altitude doesn’t take your breath away, then the views from the cable cars certainly will.

12 minutes later, at Chuqui Apu (which is also the Aymara name for La Paz), I switched to the Green Line. The station names have both Spanish and Aymara names (Chuqui Apu station is called ‘Libertador’ in Spanish) and are modern and shiny new. In fact, this modernity provides a wonderful juxtaposition to the locals in traditional dress

The Green Line sails over some small hills, on which are spread large houses and mansions. Apparently many of the wealthy inhabitants of these properties have moved out, not wanting to be looked down on by the travelling public. For me, the view into luscious lawns and azul pools was part of the attraction of this line (sorry, wealthy La Pazians).

A near miss

Back in the centre of the city I sought out Línea Morada, or the Purple Line, which departed from Utjawi station. This was the line which connected El Alto to La Paz, and was perhaps partly responsible for El Alto’s growth. With around 250,000 people/day travelling by cable car, the Purple Line has certainly prevented road congestion from getting much worse and has reduced the commute to minutes for people living away from the centre.

La Paz is clustered in a canyon, and El Alto is on the rim. It is spread out along the altiplano and it’s where you’ll find the international airport, although the cable car system sadly doesn’t go there. From Utjawi the gondola is hoisted up and up and up out of the canyon. Below you can see Mercado Rodríguez, then the prison, then the blocks of housing clinging onto cliffs. You can also see all the way across La Paz to the point where the city disappears around a distant canyon corner.

Beneath a full moon I returned to the Purple Line. I paid my 3 Bolivianos and boarded the gondola. These little cabins can accommodate about 6 people comfortably, but I was always able to find one all to myself. At night the city takes on a fascinating new look from above. The constellation above is mimicked by myriad artificial lights below. Down there is a football match being played under floodlights, or someone struggling up steep steps lit orange by streetlights.

At Tiquira station I realised that I had made a mistake. I had just stepped off of the last cable car of the night. It was only 9pm, but at that time on a Sunday night (in 2018, at least), this particular line stopped for the day. Thankfully the lovely station staff agreed to run one more car down and, relieved, I enjoyed the view all over again. This experience did, however, make me face the prospect of an hours-long bus journey back to the centre, and it was only then that I fully appreciated how important this amazing cable car network was to the population far beyond the centre.

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Take 5 minutes out of your day to watch this surprisingly relaxing footage I took of the Mi Teleférico system during both the day and night, and featuring several of its lines.

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Being on the path of Romans, Franks, Slavs, and possibly even Dracula, Bled in Slovenia has some fascinating myths and legends baked into its churches and castles. But have you ever heard of the witch of Triglav?

Into the wild

Encompassing a large part of the Julian Alps, Triglav National Park is named after this mountain range’s largest peak (which reaches 2,864m/9,396ft). On the edge of both the park and the mountains, Ribčev Laz can be reached by direct bus from Ljubljana in just under two hours. When the bus passed through Bled I dialled a number I’d been given by the National Park. Franci spoke just enough English to tell me where to meet him and, sure enough, he was waiting for me in Ribčev Laz beside his 4×4.

‘If you want dinner then knock on that door.’
‘OK. Who lives there?’
‘A witch.’

Now I hadn’t been in Slovenia long enough to assess the local sense of humour, but I wasn’t entirely certain that Franci was joking. When he drove away, leaving me beside my hut, irrational thoughts began to seep into my head, in the way they can do when you’re standing in a remote mountain clearing by a lonely hut.

The hike

My mood wasn’t improved when I discovered a scorpion in the bathroom (it was subsequently yeeted far into the twilight). Grateful for the daylight which appeared the next morning, I embarked on a long hike which I thought I had planned carefully. However, good plans don’t necessarily mix well with poor maps.

Fortunately the path eventually turned away from the cliffs and I was rewarded with a view of snow-capped mountains. A little further on was a small collection of rustic mountain huts, all of which appeared to be uninhabited. When planning this hike I knew that at some point I had to get down to the lake. My hopes that it would be a nice sedate descent were dashed when I saw a series of ladders and narrow metal steps screwed into the rock.

A magical dinner

The one eatery in the vicinity was closed for the season, hence why Franci had pointed out the witch’s home. Hence why, that evening, I found myself timidly knocking on her wooden door. I was welcomed in by an attractive lady in her 40s, as well as two handsome men who were sat at a rustic table inside.

‘Dinner?’ she asked.
‘Ja, hvala,’ I replied.

We conversed in that awkward way that two people with barely any shared language do, but she (and the men who had crept back in) was excellent, friendly company. With a full belly, topped off by a fiery home-brewed spirit, I found my way back to my hut through the dark.

If my host really had been a witch (and I did spy a cauldron, although I expect it was used for cooking something considerably more palatable than eye of newt), she was one who knew how to expertly concoct a delicious meal from local delicacies. Besides, I always thought that witches got a bad rap. If anyone can pull the tastiest food from the earth, they surely can.

Under the spell of being well-fed, I slept the satisfying sleep of someone who survived perilous cliffs, and who had been bewitched by Triglav’s wild beauty.

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I had come to Norfolk for two reasons: to look at potential holiday home investments, and to enjoy myself. Norfolk is blessed with the Norfolk Broads – a large area which in medieval times was dug for peat, the resultant hollows in the land subsequently becoming flooded to create a landscape of rivers and lakes (the Broads).

Because this is such an aquatic area, perhaps the best way to see it is by boat along the many, many navigable channels. I, foolishly, thought that, because the area is notoriously flat, it would be a good idea to see it by bicycle. This was a mistake.

Hickling, Horsey, and Sea Palling

The train to Norwich, and then to the Norfolk town of Acle, took 2.5 hours. In the UK you have to book ahead to get a place on the train for your bike, which proved a fairly smooth process. Once in Acle I began the pedal into the countryside, and it was then that I realised this may have been a mistake

Despite being known as a cycling destination, the Norfolk Broads are severely lacking in cycling infrastructure. My routes often took me along dangerously fast A roads, as well as B roads full of traffic. I was glad to make it to the little village of Martham, and then on to Hickling Broad

It was a relief to get to Hickling. Here was a view I associated with the Broads: an old windmill by a watercourse full of boats. It was peaceful here and I was tempted a little way along a path beside the waterway. But I had another sight to see today.

The UK is a severely nature depleted country. It’s therefore a rare pleasure to come across the sort of scene that greeted me at Horsey Beach. Only in the Galapagos have I seen this many seals in one place. They were flopped in a large group on the sandy beach (which would be a lovely place to be in warmer weather), or splashing around playfully in the sea.

Miles along that same beach is the village of Sea Palling. There isn’t much human habitation in this area and so the beach – and dunes behind – feel particularly wild. Sea Palling provided a shop, a few eateries, and a sea rescue centre…everything the visitor could need.

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Thurne, Potters Heigham, Ludham and Coltishall

After a long cycle through a heavy rain storm to see a house we didn’t get, we cycled a long way back to where we had originally intended to go – Thurne, which is a very small village at the end of a Broad. It has a cute pub, but not much else going for it. Onwards to Potters Heigham, which felt as though it were the main centre of the Broads.

The bridge at Potters Heigham is believed to date back to 1385. Its aesthetic is somewhat ruined by the traffic lights which are necessary to control the flow of traffic (traffic which doesn’t fit on the adjacent more modern bridge that carries a noisy A road). This strange little hamlet has a large marina and dozens of boatyard buildings. Little shacks stretch either side of the river, the occupants of the furthest must walk 20 minutes from the car park. A factory-like tearoom serves dry scones and meager cream portions. Onwards!

Along a thankfully quieter road I cycled on to Ludham. This is a village that has everything; a marina, a butcher, a good local shop, and (most importantly) a pub. There are many sights to see around Ludham, including How Hill, where you’ll find a formal garden, well-preserved mills, a millkeeper’s cottage, and wildlife trails. Also close to Ludham are the ruins of St Benet’s Abbey, which had the rare honour of being spared by Cromwell. It was once a massive and impressive place, but now just the gatehouse survives, and even that has in years past had a mill built into it.

Unfortunately we didn’t have much time to explore Coltishall. The one thing I can say about this village is that it’s surrounded by roads that are actually quiet and pleasant to cycle along. Oh, and it has a great pub called The Recruiting Sergeant which serves excellent food.

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Wroxham, Stokesby and Reedham

The watercourse somehow reminded me of the Amazon, perhaps because the trees at the water’s edge dipped their branches into the river. I paddled into a gap through the trees and into a broad. On this large lake were sailing yachts and people fishing. I wondered what type of fish there were in those murky depths – here the water was fresh, but at some point the river turned salty where it met the sea.

My final stop in the Broads was Stokesby, which really is off the beaten path. Unfortunately I only saw the place at night, but its delightful pub sits right on a river and I imagine it’s a wonderful place to be in the summer. The same can be said of Reedham, which I did manage to see during daylight. This village has a waterfront with pubs and cafes, a swing bridge to let through large boats, and a ferry further upriver.

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Norwich

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I’m going to start this post by throwing some Antwerp facts at you. In the 16th century this indomitable city was the richest in Europe, thanks to pepper, silver, and textile booms, and attracted merchants from across the continent. At the beginning of the century 40% of world trade passed through here.

Reformation, riots, and revolt spurred the city’s decline. Napoleon had plans to reinvigorate the city’s harbour, but Waterloo put paid to those. Amidst the wars that Europe suffered in the last century, Antwerp hosted the Summer Olympics, and then in the 90’s became a major fashion centre.

Drunk man’s lock

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Art Deco wonderland

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They’re in Fashion

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Café culture

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More must-sees

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