There are definitely times when I think I have lost some elasticity to bend and stretch with life’s curve balls…..Recent example: getting from Holland to Italy.. Although I am backtracking chronologically,(I am now calmly enjoying island life), this tale needs to be told…

I had to get up at 4:30am so that I could right the wrong I had made with my travel plans….I realized last night that the train to Brussels Airport did NOT leave from Maastricht Airport as I had told my self all week….but from the central train station. (Note to self: Read your itinerary much more carefully and frequently)…It was late enough when I realized this, that there was no way to rearrange dropping the car off in town…(and could I have made myself understood anyway?)…So this morning I had to drive out to the airport, filling up on the way (another story, another embarrassment, another time)…only to find the airport totally empty….nada….nothing open, nobody there….Mild feelings of panic at this point, knowing that I needed to be back in town at the train station to catch the 8:20 train to Brussels airport. I eventually put the car keys in the Hertz key box because I couldn’t figure out how to use the Europcar one; left an apologetic note, and pulled my luggage over to a nearby hotel to ask them to call me a cab…The taxi took 25 minutes to arrive; that wait was unsettling as I was a tad’ on edge ‘ by this time…(I should add that ‘a tad on edge ‘was a comparatively pleasant feeling compared with the ‘complete terror’ I was feeling by 11 am-ish.) Nice taxi driver into town, but lousy price for the twenty minute drive: 35 euro….

At the train station I was ahead of schedule for the one and only time all day…I waited at the track and the train appeared eventually, although it didn’t look like the sleek turbo-express one that I had seen online…No time to enquire; off we went in the old rickety train…I saw a guy reading an English book, and so I asked him if this was indeed the fast train to Brussels…He  ‘LOL’-ed…no… this was the milk run. Oh, and did I know that this trip required 2 separate transfers; one at Lieges and one at central Brussels…My check-in suitcase presently weighs a robust 27.5kg and changing trains meant changing tracks, which involved lugging said suitcase down 5 million steps and then up again onto a different platform…Normally (I’m told) the trains are very precise, which is necessary because the time allowed for getting into the next train on the different platform is 10 to 12 minutes! Well, our train to Lieges halted in the middle of nowhere for 12 minutes…..Connection missed… Now suffering from uncomfortable palpitations….

Finally found out (with the help of the guy from the Maastricht train who was also heading to the airport) on which platform, and at what time, the next connection was…While we were waiting on the ’correct’ platform…it (the platform number) changed… with no explanation …twice ….Full blown panic attack…Thankfully, our train did eventually turn up on the third platform, though it was late arriving and leaving…Realization setting in….am about to miss yet another connection, this one from Brussels to the airport…Praying for bad weather so flight is delayed…The next train delivered us at the airport at 11:30; my flight was leaving at noon…Now in tears and visibly shaking…..Got to the check-in knowing demon-suitcase was several kg over the limit. Even as the seconds ticked, they re-routed me to another desk to pay up. The only good part was that they didn’t check my also- overweight-carryon…Brussels Airline demands lower luggage weights than any of the other carriers I am travelling, bless them….

I took off to the gate, which I figure was near the other end of Belgium; it couldn’t have been farther away from the entrance . I was the last person to embark… Hadn’t had the clarity to take any ‘airplane-ativan’ (I have a significant fear of flying)…so swallowed one as we taxied to the runway…Obviously useless for take off; the scariest time for me… It was a turbulent 2 hr 15 min flight, but I managed to land the plane with exquisite telepathic control. Next had to get to the ‘Porto’ to catch my ferry connection. Scooted about asking at various bus places which one went that way; waited impatiently, but quietly, in line. The bus did come and it did get me there with exactly 27 mins left before sailing.

A ‘slight’ problem arose because I hadn’t actually been able to print the ticket from my online ticket purchase…I became quite unpopular in the line-up: fumbling with my bags trying to get at my laptop and turn it on; grovelling to the crowd behind me in fractured-Italian; all to show the guy that I had indeed bought my ticket…The boarding pass was issued and I tugged the bags over to the ferry at Dock #3. The ride is about 30 minutes, and I slept for 29 of them…Just pooched….Arrived at the lovely little port of Procida, under hot and sunny skies.…I had a map with directions for getting to my room at the Tirreno Hotel and had decided against a taxi, because the damn map made it look like a brief walk….In truth, it was over 2 km and every step of it uphill.…I repeatedly stopped, sitting on my suitcase, to have a swig from my water bottle,  (all in an effort to look normal while I remembered how to breathe again) as cars, scooters, taxis and buses flew by me. I also managed the odd gulp of air each time I plastered myself against the high side wall (in the hope of saving myself from a direct hit)….At the Tirreno reception I finally gave myself a quiet little pat on the back; clever me…I’d done it…

Silly me…nearly, but not quite…The owner, with whom I had conversed a bit online while booking the room, was so glad I had made it, that he insisted on taking me on a tour of the extensive lemon-tree gardens and up many more steps to see the two separate sundecks, each on a different roof. Even in my diminished state, I had to admit these offered outstanding panoramic views.

Then the room key was mine…..A stressful day … The wheels on my big suitcase had entirely lost their rubber somewhere on the uphill cobble climb….so ‘pulling’ is out and ‘dragging’ is in…But for the next five days that suitcase stays in the closet, without food, in the hope that it will lose some weight.

These are a few images from the Floriade (The World Horticultural Fair in Velno, Netherlands).  I explored several countrys’ pavilions and their ‘green’ creations, on my last day in Maastricht.

The weather is so lovely, that I am having a hard time staying inside to write….Here are more photographs….with words to follow when it rains…

Life has its little hiccups……I was so keen to blog; for the opportunity to write, as well as share photographic impressions of Holland … When I made my hotel/pension choices, in addition to ‘cheap and clean’, internet capability was an obvious must.  Pension Maaike in Noordwijk, my stop after Amsterdam, clearly advertised WiFi in every room….Well, of course, the internet was ‘down’ and the ‘man-who-knows-what-to-do’ was on holiday….Although I eventually found another place willing to let me send some quick emails, blogging wasn’t an option.

So, I will start where I left off…the ‘bleeping’ Royal Taste Hotel stairs….Getting my suitcase from the fourth floor to street level was a step by step, breath-gulping, drag and bump affair….Luckily, at the bottom, I was able to park my luggage in the pub for the few hours I had before collecting my rental car.  I had decided that the Flower Market (Bloemenmarkt), the largest of its kind in Holland, would be a fun place to wander and shoot. So I pulled up my hood and again hit the wet Amsterdam cobblestone. This market is an amazing place ! Stall after stall after stall of blooming flowers, bulbs of all proportions (tiny up to grapefruit-size), and seed packages by the thousands….My overwhelming sensation was of colour and bustle:  tourists jostling to get out of the rain and collect souvenirs; locals trying to have a chat while buying flowers, and everyone oogling over the bulbs….Plus many, like me, trying to photograph the scene. A good time…

After the protection of the market, it was damn cold outside. The Canal boat cruise which had been lower on my ‘to do’ list started looking like a really good (= warm) idea…The boats are totally enclosed  with glass, and provide an entirely different perspective of town. On the street there are bikes parked literally everywhere, and locked to anything available. One of the funnier sights, more obvious from the water, were the number of bikes hanging along the inside of the canal and bridge walls, just above the water. Premium spots, but a tad trickier to park.

Before I headed back to the airport to get my car rental (a very cute, deep purple Fiat Panda) I wandered around the Jordaan district of town which is renowned for it trendy older homes and smaller, tree-lined canals….Not disappointed…very quaint and photo-worthy !

My drive to Noordwijk was only an hour, but positioned me well for an early start the next morning at Keukenhof Gardens…The tulip extravaganza extraordinaire….Photo-heaven !!!  I spent 9 hours shooting there the next day…..I was one of the first through the gate when it opened, and had maybe an hour and a half of relative ‘people free’ shooting…but after that the crowds descended and it got packed…I didn’t manage to see the entire place, but what a delight the flowers were. The horticulturists are geniuses; ‘playing’ with colour, height, texture, and shape so beautifully. I was so engrossed that I somehow managed to burn through nearly 900 frames ! Whoops !…That adds a little more  time to my post-production…

The next day it poured again, and the winds were so high I didn’t even try to go back and shoot the  fields lined with tulip colours…My tripod wouldn’t have held against the wind. Disappointing.

It took most of the day to travel the 250 miles to Maastricht, where my sister Sally and her family now live. Great roads, but construction and an accident slowed the pace significantly. Today has been spent relaxing and enjoying family. Tomorrow is the  celebration of Dutch Queen’s birthday  so we will see how Maastricht observes the occasion.

A quick follow-up re my  ‘Stairs of the Netherlands’ obsession. It turns out that my whinging about the Royal Taste was premature…The real danger lurked at the Pension Maaike . My room, again on the top floor, again reached via very steep, windy and narrow stairs, was a floor above the loo….requiring descent and ascent of said stairs at night in near pitch black conditions. I only had to do it once, which was enough; by the 2nd night I found my flashlight and the light switch.

It  happens every time : I race around at home  getting work completed and preparing to leave; get in a state because I’m afraid of flying; spend the entire flight mentally willing the plane to stay in the sky and be free from terrorist attack…..and am a crazy wreck by the time I land the plane safely. As we touched down in Amsterdam yesterday, I was totally exhausted but very grateful for the flight crews’ skills.

Schiphol Airport got my suitcase (weighing exactly the allowed 23 kg; loaded with tripod, any camera gear that could survive checked luggage, and a few clothes) to me in record time and I headed to buy my train ticket to get into Amsterdam’s centre. Now as some of you know, prior to any trip I scour the internet and travel books for the savy tips which will get me to places more efficiently and less expensively…I had a couple of ‘good clues’ for the train ticket scenario…which ended up costing me an extra half hour of wandering and saving me nothing…(Thank you Trip Advisor)…The train did get me to the central station, which I knew from my web-combing was just over a km from my little (‘little’ in no way equals ’boutique’) hotel in the Red Light (RL) district. I spent that distance trying to lessen the racket my wheeled suitcase and carry-on were making on the cobbled roads…I’m sure the population of Amsterdam just loves tourists with pull-y luggage.

There was no doubt when I had reached the RL district…By 4 pm the store front windows were starting to fill with women of every shape and appearance…clad in bra and underpants..I don’t know if the underwear thing gets lost after dark…I will spare everyone from my political rant about the sexual exploitation of women…..

I make all my room booking arrangements at least a couple of months before the trip. My goal is to find interesting, slightly quirky, places which meet two criteria: clean and cheap. With a little searching these places do exist. The Royal Taste Hotel faces one of Amsterdam’s many canals; check-in happens at the ground floor pub…Choosing a single room in this kind of set-up often means a room on the top floor, which predictably is only accessible by flights of steep stairs…The Royal Taste has outdone itself…Tugging my gear up steps that steepened and narrowed with every floor was a joy. However, at the top was my clean bed, so once I caught my breath all was forgiven.

After a straight 21 hours of sleep, with  jet-lag behind me; time to explore. My new rain poncho worked well in the  afternoon’s downpour…a good buy: protect your camera, but have it ready when needed…Perhaps not the ultimate fashion statement, but functional.

I wandered over to Dam Square, which is a popular meeting spot in the old town.  It houses the Royal Palace, the National War Monument, and a few very nice looking hotels…Today there was also a small fair complete with ferris wheel, and a scary house….The old world architecture and ‘new’ world carnival rides were an interesting mix. Lots of bikes and tiny cars, people with umbrellas, enticing snackeries and slippery cobblestone. A couple of blocks away,  nearer my hotel, the main businesses are overwhelmingly sex and porn showrooms with the odd marijuana/coffee shop establishment.

The rain limited my shooting…but hopefully the images give you a sense of atmosphere, and how bloody steep those stairs to my room are.

Flying into Amsterdam early next Tuesday, and hoping to get an aerial view (and photographs) of all the tulip fields !!  More blog and images once I start exploring.