Back from Madeira

Well, I’m back from my two week break in Madeira, and the return trip was… Interesting to say the least. It started out when the pick up from the hotel was late. We were supposed to be picked up for the transfer to the airport at 10:30 this morning.

Ok – not a problem – we were all packed & ready to roll, having done nearly all the packing yesterday afternoon (after I’d watched the British Grand Prix from Silverstone) and had settled the outstanding hotel bill last night.

So this morning, it was just a matter of putting the last minute bits & pieces into the one case, making sure that both cases were locked & strapped, and getting the flight bags packed, and the hideous flight socks on (the less said about these, the better!)

10:30 (the allotted pick up time for Mum & myself), and a mini bus duly arrives. Only it’s not big enough for everyone who is waiting (by my estimate there were about 16 – 18 people waiting for transport to the airport), and it turns out that it was for people who were travelling with another tour company (Mum & I had booked with Thomas Cook – more on that in a later post!) So, they clamber into the mini-bus, and it goes off to the airport, leaving the remaining travellers (Mum & myself included) are standing by the front entrance to the hotel wondering what the bloody blue blazes is going on.

There was no rep around (he was at the airport - again, more about the rep later) and the time is starting to move on… Well our transfer arrived – at 10:45. Not too good when you consider that we were supposed to be at the airport for 10:50 at the latest (it’s a 2hr check in) and we still had to clear security & passport control at the airport.

The aroma of knackered clutch was heavy in the air (it was truly nauseating to be honest!) and the best (or should that be worst) was yet to come… The driver seemed to think he was Madeira’s answer to Ferrari’s Fernando Alonso – without the talent or the charisma. It didn’t get off to a good start when the driver stalled the mini bus – I suspect he was in the wrong gear to try & pull away…

Now I know that under normal circumstances, I’m not easily scared by someone’s driving, but this was truly scary – even by my standards. Every time we came to a red light, or a pedestrian crossing, it was like it was a race to see how close he could get before he hit the brakes (or whatever poor sod was in front of him – be they pedestrian or another motorist), and instead of using the handbrake like anyone else would do when attempting a hill-start with a manual gearbox, he tried (and failed) to hold the vehicle on the clutch, meaning that we rolled back frequently, and the aroma of burning clutch got worse.

The there were the gear changes themselves. Now I know that my Peugeot can be a temperamental little b’stard when it wants to be, but the way this guy was slamming the gears made me apologise to my little blue fiend when I got back to it at Birmingham! The gear changes were really notchy – almost as if the driver wasn’t depressing the clutch fully. I suspect he was, but it really didn’t feel like he was to be honest!

If I recall correctly, the speed limit on the main highway is something like 80 kmph, but I know for sure that we were doing well over that – if it was on the road, we overtook it - thank god the road is a duel carriage way!)

It was almost as if this guy had been watching the British Grand Prix yesterday, and was determined to re-create the overtaking style in the mini-bus. We got to the airport in one piece (we got there by 11:10) and I have to admit, it was one of the few times that I gave thanks for arriving at the airport. The guy was a loony – and it didn’t help with him answering his ‘phone when we were on the main highway.

Check-in was fast and painless (but that could have been due to our arrival time at the airport – we were some of the last passengers to check in!) We had 17.5kg in both cases (the weight limit was 20kg) and all I can say is ‘thank God they didn’t weight the hand baggage at Funchal!’

Simply because I estimated my flight bag was about 8 – 9 kgs (and the limit is 5kgs!) Mind you, most of that was book… I’d bought a book called Dam Busters – the race to smash the dams 1943 by James Holland at Birmingham on the outbound flight (I also bought the Rowland White book – Storm Force) and resolved to have Dam Busters as my book for the return flight.

Once through security & passport control, it was like a rugby scrum as per normal. There were at least 4 flights going out about the same time (although the Easyjet flight to Gatwick had a ½ hour delay) and the Luton Thompson flight was leaving 10 mins before ours did. Mum & I boarded the bus that took us to the aircraft, and we were directed to the rear door.

Now this wouldn't have been a problem, had we been seated at the back – we were in the middle of the damned aircraft, and to make matters worse, some silly female had some kind of mini-suitcase as her flight bag, and was making a pig’s ear out of getting it into the overhead locker. 

This  meant that she was standing in the aisle, fussing around, and preventing people from getting to their seats. When we eventually got to our seats, we’d been given the window & middle seat again, and if you tried to transport cattle the way that we were seated on the plane (it was a B757-300, with the seats set at the minimum space allowance of 26 inches between the front of one seat and the front of the seat in front of you) then the RSPCA would rightly prosecute the transport company.

The ticket (it’s one of these stupid e-ticket things) said that in-flight meals would be provided… Yes, they were, if you didn’t mind paying £6.00 for a tiny lasagne that looked revolting, and didn’t smell too appetising either! Thank god I’d had a decent breakfast before we’d left the hotel… If I’m honest, the less said about the flight, the better.

As I’d been smart, and plugged in my headphones (I was listening to the S&M album by Metallica & the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra – hence the S&M title!) I didn’t hear the wailing of some kid on the flight – Mum said it howled nearly all the flight.

We landed, and got to the gate... It was gate 54 at Birmingham. I know damned well that the couldn’t have gotten us further away from Border Security & baggage reclaim if they’d tried – at least not at a gate with an air bridge!

Once through Border Security, we headed to baggage reclaim which was surprisingly fast, and then had to run the gauntlet of more stinking duty free. Some bright spark has had the idea to put a smallish duty-free area on the route from the baggage reclaim & customs area to the arrivals area, meaning that it's yet another chance to fleece knackered passengers before they leave the airport.

When I say stinking, I mean it. The combined odour of the various perfumes that had been sprayed into the air was enough to give anyone a bad head, and it sure as hell did that to me, so I was only too glad to toddle up to the bus stop for the long stay 1 car park where I had left the little blue fiend two weeks ago. Mum & I got to the bus stop just as the bus arrived (talk about perfect timing) and then got off at the allotted stop.

Mum being her normal organised self had made a note of the bus stop number and car park row I’d parked on. So, it was just a case of getting off the bus, and getting the car loaded. Now I’ve had problems with the gearbox on my little fiend, and as I was loading the cases into the boot, I made sure that the engine was running, meaning that the little fiend was getting some heat into the engine, and also into the gearbox, with the idea being that it would stop causing the gearbox to throw it's usual hissy fit...

It seemed to work ok, and the little monster burbled it’s way home, and is now back in it’s allotted parking space.

As for me? I’m so chilled out, I’m horizontal, but that’s no thanks to the transfer today. That’s all down to the island of Madeira, and the wonderful (and very helpful) staff at the Porto Santa Maria, who made Mum & myself feel like old friends.

Ah well, guess I should call this quits – my eyeballs feel like they are on fire, and I really want to get some rest. Back tomorrow with a full report (and photos) of my holiday on the island.

Karen
Now some things you hold on to - and some you just let go
Seems like the ones that you can't have
Are the ones that you want most

I go on holiday, and what do I watch? An air show.

And no, I’m not joking. The first week of my holiday, I kept seeing posters for an air show by the Portuguese air force. I didn’t think I’d be able to watch it, but boy, was that ever wrong.

The Friday afternoon (the air show was on the Saturday) I was happily snoozing, when I heard this almighty racket – about 50 feet from the hotel. Needless to say, the language was less than polite, as I stumbled out onto the balcony.

Mum was already out there with the camera, and took this photograph:

Merlin Helicopter - noisy sod!

It turned out it was practising for the display the following afternoon, so both Mum and I got the cameras out to take some more photographs:

So, on the Saturday morning, Mum and I took our normal trip into Funchal, and on the way back, we saw the grandstand seating for the dignitaries. That made the pair of us snigger, as we realised that we would have the better view from the balcony of our hotel room!

The air show started at 16:00, and to be honest, when you compare it with US and UK air shows, it wasn’t really as enthralling as it could have been, but I guess I’ve been spoilt by watching the Farnborough air show over the years.

It started brightly enough, with a fly by display done by a C-130, which opened the loading bay door, and dropped out what appeared to be a couple of marine flares. Mum and I were both wondering what these were for. We soon found out.

C130

The noisy Merlin helicopter that had so rudely woke me up the previous afternoon was back – and this time carried out the full display that involved dropping a diver and then scooping him back up from the water.

Dropping the diver

Nearly down

Going up

Mind your head

Mission accomplished

Heading for home

Then it was the turn of the Orion. I didn’t manage to get any photos of this, as the miserable toe rag didn’t come close enough – even with the telephoto on my camera. But the real stars of the show, as far as I was concerned, were the Aérospatiale Alouette III. The two pilots gave a wonderful display, and provided some wonderful photographic opportunities

It was like watching aerial ballet.

Ah well, guess I should call this quits for now – I’m starting to fall asleep at my computer again!

Back tomorrow, if I get the chance.

Karen

Now some things you hold on to - and some you just let go
Seems like the ones that you can't have
Are the ones that you want most

Monté Tropical Palace Gardens

Having seen the damage that was done in Monté, I will admit to being slightly apprehensive about what I would see in the gardens. So, Mum and I decided to go and visit the gardens and the museums.

As we entered the gardens, and walked across to the massive 1,000 year old olive trees, there didn’t seem to be any visible signs of damage, and the trees looked as robust as ever:

1000 year old Olive trees.



Then it was down to the museums. As normal, Mum and I went our separate ways, as she’s not a fan of the African sculptures. I am, and am quite content to take photos of these extraordinary figures.

After I’d been in the African gallery (and changed the batteries in the camera), I walked down the path to Mum and head into the other museum – the one that holds all the beautiful geodes. Admittedly, most of them are Amethysts of varying quality, but the way that they have been displayed is quite spectacular.

After we’d taken the photos, it was then time to head down into the gardens themselves. Again, we were wondering if there would be any damage visible, as we’d both seem the damage that had been done in Monte. But at first, the only thing that I was really interested in was the tree fern:

But just after I took this photo, I was stopped in my tracks by damage that had obviously occurred in the February storms:

This then lead me to move lower down, to where Monte’s version of the terracotta warriors had been…

At first glance, aside from the red and white tape, there didn’t seem too much damage done.  But a little further down, past the tape, the damage was quite obvious:

But what really made me smile was the damage hadn’t affected the Buddha statue.  Divine protection perhaps?

But this seemed to be the only area that was damaged, and as per normal. Mum and I separated, as there were bits that I wanted to see – including more cycads.  But what I didn’t expect to see was a robin perched in the cycad.

It stayed long enough for me to take the picture, and when I tried for a close up, it flew off. Ok – no worries, as it made me stop long enough to have a look around…I spotted a sort of hidden walkthrough…

I entered, and got the fright of my life when the lights came on, and something growled at me! When I had recovered my scattered wits, I saw what had scared me so badly. There was a motion sensor hidden in a sculpture:

There were three sculptures in all, but unfortunately, I couldn’t get them all in one shot, so I had to make do with individual photos:

As I went to re-join Mum, I stopped on the top of the waterfall that overlooked the main lake:

Once I had joined Mum by the lake, there was something that really made me giggle.  It was a seagull perched on the top of a statue in the lake.

The other thing that always stands out in my mind about the lake is the largest pot in the world.  No, I’m not joking, this is listed in the Guinness Book of Records:

It was then time to head to the coffee shop for a drink, as both Mum and I were in need of a sit down and a drink.

As we walked along, there was more evidence of the damage that had been done to the garden:

Once at the coffee shop, we chose a seat in the shade, and I started looking through the photos on my camera (deleting the ones that were obviously no good) when this sparrow hopped onto the railing beside me:

Then it hopped onto the table, with a determined glint in its eyes, as the previous people who had sta at the table had left crumbs from their cake…

Ah well, guess I should call this quits - I've got bits and pieces to sort out. Back later is I get the chance.

Karen

Now some things you hold on to - and some you just let go
Seems like the ones that you can't have
Are the ones that you want most

Monté and damage recovery

As per normal, Mum and I went up to Monté on the cable car. I will admit to being slightly apprehensive, as I was unsure just how much damage had been done by the devastating floods in February.

As we travelled up, the damage could be seen from the cable car.

Considering the force of the water that must have been flowing, the damage wasn’t as bad as I had expected, but there were still areas that were being repaired.

When we got to Monté, the area seemed undamaged, but I know from past experience that appearances can be deceiving, so Mum and I walked towards the other cable car station – the one that links Monté to the Botanical Garden.

 That was when it really hit home just how ferocious the water must have been. The building that you used to purchase the tickets from was a ruin (albeit one that was being worked on) and a huge concrete culvert was being constructed to try and control the water.

Mum and I then decided to walk back towards the main square in Monte. I made sure that I had my camera ready to photograph anything of interest, including areas of damage, as I was trying to show my friends at home just what had been damaged.

Ah well, time to call this quits – my mobile is ringing.

Back later, if I get the chance.

Karen

Now some things you hold on to - and some you just let go
Seems like the ones that you can't have
Are the ones that you want most