Jason (and Kirsten) in the UK

a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/jasontabarias/3437954814/in/set-72157616703244166/”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 240px;” src=”http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3651/3437954814_097919383c_m.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aThe bulk of our April holiday was going to be in Bosnia, but as flying to Sarajevo was more expensive and coming up from south to north suited our plans better we decided to fly into Dubrovnik, Croatia to start the trip.br /br /We’d been to Croatia previously, so we weren’t too bothered about spending time in Dubrovnik but our coach didn’t leave for a few hours so there was time for lunch and a quick look around.br /br /The bus from the airport dropped right in front of the Old Town and we had a quick walk around to enjoy the weather. It was 23 and sunny, which felt plenty warm to us – and it pretty much didn’t change for the whole trip!br /br /After a lunch of the Croatian favourite ćevapčići (Kirsten had a seafood risotto) we were well in tune with the Balkans frame of mind. We leisurely made our way down to the bus station area with plenty of time to spare and hung out by the harbour to kill time. But when when we made our way to the bus station across the road about 15 mins before scheduled departure we found that we were at the normal bus station, not the coach/international bus station. br /br /a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/jasontabarias/3437160117/in/set-72157616703244166/”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 240px;” src=”http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3631/3437160117_da789e3343_m.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aA very brisk walk with large backpacks took us down the riverfront to the new bus station. We’d made it with about 5 mins to spare. Although upon further inspection, none of these were the coach to Mostar! We were told by one of the drivers that the station was even further down the road. We sprinted and JUST made the last coach to Mostar for the evening with about 1 minute to spare. br /br /Sweaty and exhausted we collapsed onto the coach. br /br /The drive to Mostar in Bosnia was pretty nice, at least to start with. We tracked along the Adriatic coast just as the late afternoon sun was upon us and the islands of Croatia glinted just off the shore. br /br /We travelled West along the coast through into the small area of Bosnia’s coastline, then back into Croatia (including passport checks entering and exiting) as far as Ploce. At that point we turned away from the coast and started driving northwards with the sun starting to set behind us. We cross the border again back into Bosnia and by dusk we were driving through the Bosnian countryside.br /br /a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/jasontabarias/3437981166/in/set-72157616703244166/”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 240px;” src=”http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3586/3437981166_4f40969e27_m.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aThe countryside was initially much like any other rural area in Europe. There was the odd mosque, with their telling minarets suggesting that this wasn’t ‘Europe as we knew it’ but little else was of note, other than a general sense of rural poverty which was to be expected.br /br /However, as we continued we began to notice marked difference between the small townlets on the glittering coast of Croatia and the small towns of nearby southern Bosnia. br /br /Just as the sun was setting, there was an extended stop at about 7:30pm in some really horrible place whose name I forget. There were bullet and mortar holes in the walls of apartments, mangy dogs looking for scraps, dodgy people hanging about the bus station and a general feeling of desolation all round. br /br /As the night drew in, it was clear that we were not in Croatia anymore…br /br /You can see more photos of the trip to Dubrovnik a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/jasontabarias/sets/72157616703244166/” target=”_blank”here »/a.

a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3297/3338619313_63ce4ba07e_m.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 160px;” src=”http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3297/3338619313_63ce4ba07e_m.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aa href=”http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cotswolds” target=”_blank”The Cotswold/as are a bunch of hills in the West of England, an area famed for its natural beauty. We’d heard a lot about the Cotswolds: our friends had been and given it rave reviews, I have a colleague who lives out that way and swears by its beauty and its an area where many famous people are supposed to have holiday homes or houses. br /br /We’ve been wanting to go for ages, but hadn’t managed to get around to booking. So a while ago, when looking for a place to go driving to take advantage of the car hire that Kirsten had promised to buy me for Christmas, we thought it would be an ideal opportunity to combine the two. br /br /span style=”font-weight:bold;”The Car/spanbr /br /There are really only two types of car hire – the cheapo ‘Hertz’ style, where you pay a price and choose a car type (economy, compact, super-compact etc) and you get what you get. Then there is ‘executive’ or ’sports’ car hire, where you play out your Bentley or Ferrari fantasies for £1000/day. br /br /Well I was looking for something in between, which was pretty hard to find as it turned out. We started off looking at a Golf GTi, which seemed to fit the bill for a decently fun car at reasonable rates, though not many places had one for rent. There was one at a local car hire place near us (with the paddle-shift manual too!), but by the time the height of winter had passed and it was time to book a car it was no longer on the books.br /br /In the end, we found a Golf GTi at Avis Prestige in south-west London, so that’s what we booked. However, the day before I got a call from them saying that the Golf may not be available (it was in an accident, we later found) and would I mind an Audi S3 as a substitute? Well, sure I would! br /br /(For those not in the know, the Audi is broadly similar to the Golf but its about 50kw more powerful and has 4WD, while also boasting a bit higher interior spec etc.)br /br /span style=”font-weight:bold;”The Road/spanbr /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/RomanticMap-705869.gif”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 153px;” src=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/RomanticMap-705865.gif” border=”0″ alt=”" background=”white” //aWhen doing some research on places to drive in the Cotswolds, I came upon this ‘Romantic Road’ idea; it seems someone has picked out some choice driving roads that links the idyllic little villages that make the Cotswolds so special. Not only would the driving be fun, but we’d get to see the countryside that we often cannot when using public transport.br /br /I downloaded the Romantic Road details from the Cotswolds tourist board website, and hoped for the best – I had no real sense of whether this was a good idea or not. Nonetheless it seems to fit the fit the bill – two driving loops (A Road for Today and A Road for Tomorrow) suited our plans perfectly.br /br /You can click the map image on the left to see a map of the towns we visited.br /br /span style=”font-weight:bold;”The Weekend/spanbr /br /We were staying in Cheltenham (the place of the famous horse races, which actually start on Tuesday) – one of the larger towns in the region, and perhaps its unofficial capital. So we headed off in the direction of Cheltenham on Saturday morning, pleased that it was dry if not exactly sunny. br /br /The M4 west carried us most of the way there. It was the pleasant, civilised and safe 150km/h cruise that I expected from previous trips most of the way there. We arrived in Cheltenham about 11, and were immediately impressed – it had the grandest old buildings, apparently Roman-influenced (but that’s just what Georgian architecture looks like), and a sense of regency that only towns like Bath and Oxford had matched in my previous experience. We stopped in Cheltenham for a quick brunch before starting A Road for Today.br /br /Our decision to drive the Romantic Road was a good one – it was just awesome! The directions were easy to follow and the roads took us through some awesome B-roads that were twisty and fun, but importantly showed us the greatest sides of this beautiful area. It was immediately apparent that the stone walls and cute Roman-era villages were not going to stop. They just kept coming, one after the other, interspersed by rolling farmland and idyllic countryside. Even despite the grey weather, the whole area just shone with natural beauty.br /br /The description of the Romantic Road on the tourist website says it better than I can:br /br /blockquoteIn an area rich in history and natural beauty like the Cotswolds, it is sometimes difficult for visitors, even those who have been before, to get to know the country roads and traditional villages. The Romantic Road provides touring routes that are easy to follow and trace the tales of the many artists, writers and craftspeople who have drawn inspiration from the Cotswolds. It shows off the loveliest villages and landscapes, reflecting the romance of their history and literary heritage./blockquotebr /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3590/3339469430_7f81ca9e69_m.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 240px;” src=”http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3590/3339469430_7f81ca9e69_m.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aWe stopped for lunch at Stow-on-the-Wold (a high town perched on a hill – “wold”). We almost randomly chose a pub that looked decent, to be surprised with a gorgeous a href=”http://www.cotswoldlife.co.uk/” target=”_blank”Cotswolds Life Magazin/ae interior and some excellent home-style food. After a shared liver parfait starter, I had a thick slice of home-made bacon with a fried egg and amazing fat chips and Kirsten had the tastiest mushrooms on toast I had ever experienced.br /br /We headed back to Cheltenham and our cheap and cheerful hotel for a quick nap before heading out to dinner. Kirsten had booked a table at a restaurant serving pan-Middle Eastern foods, which made a great break from the onslaught of French and Traditional British foods we’d been having lately (no matter how good they were). My chicken breast with cardamon and rice sounded plan, but the tastes were deep, layered and exotic – we were very impressed.br /br /We rose rather earlier than expected the next morning and headed out on A Road for Tomorrow. While they were forecasting rain, we had blue skies (at least for time being) and we had to take advantage of it while it lasted. While the drive was much as Saturday’s was (that is, totally amazing from both the perspective of the views and cute towns as well as fun to drive) we did continue to encounter a lot of one-lane, two-way roads. Having to pull over to accommodate other oncoming traffic (either fully on the back roads or partially in the narrow-street towns) was starting to get a little tiresome.br /br /It wasn’t long before the blue skies were clouded over, and then it was only a matter of time before the rain fell. It wasn’t the limp London drizzle either, it was hard, driving rain combined with a fearsome wind which abated frequently to let enough sun in to blind. Driving in such conditions was tiring, and we settled into a nice French restaurant in Painswick for a ridiculously good value lunch that probably would have cost us 4 times as much in London.br /br /The rain also showed the car’s only real dynamic shortcoming – the slightly distant steering feel that is common in Audis and 4WD variants in particular. Aside from this one flaw, the car was amazing. The turbo engine gave it bags of torque right across the rev range, so swapping cogs was often a fun option rather than a necessity. The suspension was firm when you needed to be and supple enough to soak up the worst of the back-road bumps and the traction from the 4WD system was just amazing, particularly in the wet. It was happy to cruise along at 160km/h but fun the slower corners and long sweepers. But the best trick was the way it would just pull away in 3rd gear from 60km/h to whatever speed to wanted to do almost instantly, a wave of 350nM pushing you along. I can, and did, do it all day.br /br /The drive home was uneventful, aside from a little road works and an accident on the M4 that delayed our arrival in London by 30 mins or so. I was sad to hand the keys back, but I had really wrung the best out of that little car over the weekend, and in some of the picturesque countryside I am ever likely to see. In all, an excellent weekend.br /br /You can see more photos of the trip to the Cotswolds a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/jasontabarias/sets/72157614914471499/” target=”_blank”here »/a.

a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3552/3301011090_c2a22064da_m.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 240px;” src=”http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3552/3301011090_c2a22064da_m.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aThis weekend we went to visit our friends Laura and Al in Brighton, on the south coast. Saturday turned out to be an awesome day (at least when compared to the weather we’d been having lately) – 13 degrees and bright blue skies. br /br /Of course we should have known that this would mean that half of London had the same idea to travel to Brighton for the day. When we arrived around 3pm the shorefront was packed with people and the main centre of town filled with day trippers. We took a couple of hours out before catching up with Laura and Al to walk around and bask in the sun, something we’d sorely missed for a while.br /br /Rather than heading to the main pier, which we’d seen previously, we headed to the (marginally) less popular West Pier end of the seaside. The West Pier (pictured, top) burnt in a fire some years ago, and is supposedly on the brink of being restored, but for now proves to be a really interesting view on the seaside.br /br /After soaking up some rays, we headed through the vibrant Lanes – small winding streets of shops, varying from interesting second-hand stuff to designer clothes and jewellery. By now the sun was heading down and it was starting to get cold again, so we were picked up by Laura and headed back to their house for a while.br /br /One interesting aspect to the trip was that Al’s band was playing that night, and we were going to see them. We previously didn’t even really know that Al played guitar, nor that he was in a band. As it turned out it was a relatively recent thing and this was to be one of his earlier gigs with Creature, despite the band itself having been together for a while sans guitarist.br /br /We headed into the Prince Albert pub to meet up with the rest of the band and had a few beers while waiting around for the headline act to finish their sound check. Creature were the support act, meaning they had little time to tune up, which meant we didn’t have to wait long to get some dinner at a nearby Italian.br /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3351/3301026504_ddb4af2d56_m.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 160px;” src=”http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3351/3301026504_ddb4af2d56_m.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aWe headed upstairs to catch the last song of the support-support band (if you know what I mean) and get in a couple more drinks before Creature started. They played about 10 songs, and it was over quicker than I expected. The band defies categorisation to a degree, but it was basically pop-rock with some gnarly electronica/noise stuff over the top. It was actually really quite up my musical alley, and I enjoyed it a lot. The headline act, a rockabilly/Morphine kinda band were obviously much tighter and professional, but I wasn’t into that style of music.br /br /We hung around with some of the band members and other friends of Al and Laura’s for a bit afterwards and I managed to get myself a copy of their EP somehow, despite not having paid for it. I’m yet to listen to it, but I’m hoping they sound even better on CD than live. As we left, Kirsten and I noted how proud we were of ourselves – we don’t do gigs at all despite living in one of the world’s music capitals, so we were happy to rectify that. br /br /The night finished back at Laura and Al’s place with a now-ubiquitous Guitar Hero session, in which we all held up well against the ‘professional’ Al.br /br /The next morning after breakfast we headed out to do the Undercliff Walk (pictured), which stretches east from Brighton. The walk itself was pleasant despite the overcast and colder weather, and was made better by the tea and cake stop along the way. We’d only walked a few miles but we were tired enough by the end to need a nap on the train home back to London, having had a thoroughly enjoyable weekend by the coast.br /br /You can see more photos of the trip to Brighton a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/jasontabarias/sets/72157614300880404/” target=”_blank”here »/a.

a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3479/3207376228_21b94e174c_m.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 240px;” src=”http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3479/3207376228_21b94e174c_m.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //abr /This weekend we went to up north to Manchester, the self-proclaimed home of the Industrial Revolution. Our urge to see a bit more of our ‘own backyard’ was coupled with a free first-class train ride courtesy of the fact that I travel on Virgin trains fair too much (for work purposes). All it took was some credit-crunch hotel prices, and we were there!br /br /It’s only just over 2 hours from London to Manchester by train on the weekend, which shows how efficient the UK rail network could be (but generally isn’t). We arrived around lunchtime, and rather than the rain and forecast sleet we were greeted with blue skies – excellent walking weather.br /br /We dropped our stuff off at the hotel and immediately headed south west, towards the Trafford Park area. We had purchased some Tourist Tracks MP3 audio guides, which had done a good job for us in Oxford, Cambridge and Bath, and were preparing for another interesting walk. It started around the Lancashire Cricket club, and we could see the Manchester United stadium in the distance but otherwise it was just a quiet business park/shopping district with no-one around. Although its not a massive city (population around 500,000) we expected a little more action.br /br /As the walk progressed, we found it discussed nothing more than what used to be here before it was a business park – some of which were not all noteworthy in their original state, and much less so when replaced by a massive Currys electronics store car park. It wasn’t long before we abandoned the walk in the Salford Quays area, part of the massive urban redevelopment going on around Manchester. We happened to be near a photo exhibition that I had wanted to see, much of which was about Manchester through the eyes of photographers who had worked on the Guardian newspaper over time. This, and the nearby display of landscape photos from the coastal areas around Manchester, were both informative and entertaining – more than can be said of the walk.br /br /By this time the sun had faded and the night was starting to draw in (around 3pm – it is a few degrees further north after all!) so we headed back to the central part of the city to explore the area. We went into the main shopping district, and it suddenly became apparent why the outskirts of the town seemed dead: everyone was in the centre of town. The shopping areas and surrounds were packed with people of all ages, and it gave the city a really positive vibe. More importantly, it was encouraging to see a city full of young people that didn’t look despondent or bored – there was clearly stuff to do in Manchester, and they were doing it.br /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3404/3206545701_73fd20b890_m.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 240px;” src=”http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3404/3206545701_73fd20b890_m.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aAfter drifting into the happening Deansgate area, full of restaurants and bars, we headed back to the hotel for a quick break, before heading out again. For dinner we picked the “best Cantonese restaurant in Manchester” for dinner. It was a very busy restaurant, and usual when dining outside of London, we took a second to get used to the idea of old people and children being out and having a meals, and groups of families eating together. The food was not all that special in hindsight, but it did allow us to see the pretty impressive Chinatown area – bigger and more comprehensive than I expected. br /br /After our massive dinner (not only did we over-order, but we got an extra dish because the waiter stuffed up) we decided we needed a walk to settle ourselves. We headed south towards the Canal St area, known for its night clubs (many of which were gay/lesbian). It was a pleasant walk along the canals, with a very European vibe. As we walked, we were amazed by the girls wearing next to nothing standing in the freezing winter night – a trait we’d been told to expect in the North. As we headed around the block we saw a guy crossing the road get into a punch up with a bunch of (south) Asians in a pimped-up Honda Civic – serious enough to demand the attention of the local police, who arrived quickly. It was good to know that the clichés and stereotypes has some truth behind them.br /br /We didn’t have much time to see more of Manchester the next morning as our train left about an hour after we woke up, but we managed to get a quick walk in through the south and west of the compact city. Again bathed in sunlight and blue skies, you could tell by the old regal buildings that this was a city with an enviable history. However, it was the many striking modern buildings and the vibe of action and positivity that showed that Manchester, unlike too many of its Northern siblings, is also a city with a future.br /br /You can see more photos of the trip to Manchester a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/jasontabarias/sets/72157612721699440/” target=”_blank”here »/a.

a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/features-gallery-front20081014-732478.png”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 117px;” src=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/features-gallery-front20081014-732374.png” border=”0″ alt=”" //abr /It’s finally arrived!br /br /[Alert - if you are not interested in reading about my new Mac, stop reading now. There's nothing else for you to see here.]br /br /I’ve been procrastinating over buying a new Mac for some time now, but once it became clear that Apple was not about to drop its prices in response to the worldwide economic downturn I decided now was as good a time as any to buy a new one.br /br /My trusty old Powerbook G4 was a truly mistimed purchased. I bought the absolute top of the line 15″ model about a month before they switched from PowerPC to Intel chips (seriously – who saw that coming?). I tried to console myself that after years of owning Macs I knew the one thing that you didn’t want was a first generation Apple product, but it didn’t work. The Intel machines were a whole heap faster and fairly reliable by first-generation standards and it could not be denied.br /br /Nonetheless, JASONPB (pictured, below) powered on for years and years, and served me well. My computer is a massive part of my life – aside from holding almost all the data I need to live, it’s also my source of entertainment (as we don’t have a TV). But recently it was really starting to creak under the load of my main use for it – digital photo processing. My Sony A350 pumps out some really large RAW files, and I had enough of waiting literally minutes for each RAW conversion. Kirsten was used to me spending hours after each holiday just processing imagines. The next generation of MacOS will only run on Intel machines. So now, almost 3 and a half years later, it’s time to move on.br /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/powerbook-743357.png”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 129px;” src=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/powerbook-743339.png” border=”0″ alt=”" //aJASONMBP (pictured, top) is the not the top of the line Macbook Pro, but its decent enough. In 3 years, Mac technology has moved on significantly. I’m on a whole new version of MacOS (Leopard), I have a built-in webcam, massively improved ‘unibody’ construction, ridiculously improved screen (the old one looks like it’s got a window tint on over the screen, such is the brightness of the new, glossy screen) and of course much faster performance. Plus I get a whole heap of miscellaneous features that are increasingly only available to newer Intel-based Macs (such as GMail video conferencing! With Windows users!)br /br /The glossy screen was a welcome addition, though I didn’t think it would be after reading lots of negative comments about it. The glare is there, but you somehow just don’t notice it when using it, and it does give the screen a really cool saturation which lifts everything is displays – it’s really cool.br /br /JASONPB will not be pensioned off just yet. Its still got enough juice to cater for Kirsten’s modest web-browsing needs and will also serve as our TV (using our USB-stick TV tuner) until I can work out the licensing issues around putting that software on the JASONMBP. But even with that modest workload it’ll need a full refresh, just as soon as I am sure all the data has been successfully moved across to the new computer. That’s a job for a weekend in the not too distant future. Till then, it’s time to enjoy the speed of JASONMBP…

In search of a couple of hours of extra daylight and a couple of degrees of warmth, we headed to the south of France for our Christmas break. It was only a short break (two days in Aix-en-Provence and two days in Arles) but it was just what we needed after a fairly hectic November and December for us both.br /br /span style=”font-weight:bold;”Aix-en-Provence/spanbr /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02607-713440.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;” src=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02607-713436.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //abr /We flew into Marseilles and immediately took a coach to Aix. Kirsten had been before, but it was my first time to the south of France, and I was looking forward to the local seafood and other French food. We were welcomed by bright sunshine – a massive change from dreary old England, and just what we were looking for.br /br /We hits the streets of exxy Aix, including the magnificent Mirabeau (main tree-lined boulevard) and the charm of the winding narrow roads of the old town. It’s quite a special town – boutique shops and gourmet food stores are everywhere. Unlike places like Venice, its neither totally fake nor filled with middle-aged and older people; it appears to be a ‘real’ town and people of all ages seem to be around. Being the low season, the percentage of locals was higher than it usually was, making it easier to judge the local character of the town; I’d imagine you’d not be able to see past the hordes of tourists in the summer.br /br /All this walking and sightseeing was fine, but it wasn’t long before we were basking in the sunshine in a square and tucking into some French fare. What first? Foie gras for me and steak tartare for Kirsten, and in the warm late afternoon sun of southern France it was as good as it gets. br /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02639-756692.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;” src=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02639-756639.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aAs became our custom we napped after lunch before heading out for another walk and dinner, this time some amazing local oysters and more traditional Provencale-style food. The city was a well lit with lights all over the place, and the Christmas market stalls that lined the Mirabeau had people out and about till late into the night.br /br /Tuesday took on the same routine, including a walk over to the Bus Station to check that our Christmas Eve bus to Arles would be running as scheduled. We again meandered through the city, noting that Aix was to Marseilles as Margaret River is to Perth, these days. Oh, and if you think my post title is cheesy, what about the coffee shop called Aixpresso? Or the consultants called Aixperts?br /br /After this, we headed out of the opposite end of the city to a lovely park, just basking in the sunlight we had been denied for months back home. Cezanne hailed from Aix, and it’s said that the special light of the town was instrumental in his paintings. While I can’t vouch for old Paul, I can say that it certainly gave us a good dose of vitamin D, and walking around in the sun certainly helped our moods (which wasn’t the highest as both Kirsten and I were ill with colds for the most of the trip). The photos from the trip give a good idea of the amazing light. (Lunch was a steak tartare for me and a deluxe salad, including smoked duck breast for Kirsten, by the way).br /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02677-794496.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;” src=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02677-794461.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aAfter our customary mid-afternoon nap, we headed out again for dinner, hoping to eat at the famed Le Formal restaurant, but it was unfortunately booked. We killed some time with a few drinks on the Mirabeau (Martini Rosso – my new favourite drink) before heading to the newly-built Grand Theatre complex our final dinner in Aix. Unfortunately the meals was not that memorable but, but it was in tough company!br /br /br /span style=”font-weight:bold;”En Route to Arles/spanbr /br /The next morning we checked out and excitedly headed over to the Bus Station for a 1 and a quarter hour bus trip to Arles, where we would be staying on Christmas Eve and Christmas night. We had only really heard of Arles through looking for hotels in the region beforehand, and much of our excitement was because we had booked into an excellent boutique hotel through the a href=”http://www.mrandmrssmith.com/”Mr Mrs Smith website/a. br /br /So there we were at 10am, with about 10 others waiting for the bus to Arles. 10:00, no bus. 10:10, no bus. We kept checking the schedule (as did the locals) to make sure we didn’t get the time right but the bus just didn’t show (and the next was not till 2pm). Eventually we asked at the information centre to be told that the 10am bus only runs on Sundays. Not keen on the idea of waiting for the 2pm bus, we caught a bus to nearby Salon de Provence, hoping that a connecting bus from there would take us to Arles.br /br /So by mid-day we were roaming the handily-located markets near the Salon de Provence bus station. Salon is not as nice as its name sounds, but we needed to stock up on supplies having been told by a colleague with a French wife that literally everything is shut in small towns (like Arles) on Christmas Day. Luckily the hoped-for bus to Arles came in about 30 mins, and were were relieved to be on our way. br /br /The route to Arles from Salon took in the back roads, and to our surprise the landscape of this part of France is not too dissimilar to that one could expect in Turkey – barren landscapes, lots of limestone and pine trees and houses with larges verandas ready for the baking sun in summer.br /br /br /span style=”font-weight:bold;”Arles/spanbr /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02681-735833.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;” src=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02681-735827.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aAs soon as we arrived in Arles we almost ran to our hotel, which we were very much looking forwards to seeing. Even the hotel owner in Aix had heard of the place, and probably would have gone as far saying something like ‘that hotel spits on mine’ has his English been half-decent. a href=”http://www.mrandmrssmith.com/luxury-hotels/france-hotels/provence-hotels/lhotel-particulier/”L’Hotel Particulier/a was expensive, but it was our Christmas present to ourselves and as soon as our host has shown us to our room and departed we were literally jumping for joy (see Kirsten, pictured right and outdoor area, pictured below). It was everything we expected from an exclusive boutique hotel in southern France and more. It was described as an ‘urban mansion’ and that’s exactly what we got.br /br /After the jumping subsided, we decided to get some lunch (surprised?), but we found most places were no longer serving food, and were preparing to close for Christmas, with Christmas Eve being the main dinner and present-giving time for Europeans. We managed to get into one cafe, but with English-translated menus we were not that hopeful. Surprisingly, the food was really good – Kirsten’s local seafood soup was rich and hearty and reminded me of the gravy from my mum’s crab curry, and my entree of charcuterie was excellent, and the entrecôte served with Provencale vegetables was well above expectations. br /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02684-750806.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 133px;” src=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02684-750767.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aWe dashed off to a museum to see a very thorough exhibition of the work of Arles-born fashion designed Christian Lacriox, before taking a walk along the Rhone river back to our hotel. We napped, and got ready for our big Christmas Eve dinner. Even our hotel’s restaurant was closed on Christmas Eve, so they assisted us in getting a booking at the fancy Lou Marques restaurant at Hotel Jules-Cesar, nearby. We were the first to arrive, and worried that we might be the only ones there, but it eventually filled up. The food itself was extraordinary. I has a ridiculously nice pan-fried escalope of foie gras on a mushroom tart to start, and a magical piece of turbot topped with purees seafood and black truffle sauce for mains, while Kirsten started with oysters and had another local fish for mains. Our desserts started with an array of cheeses, followed by a white chocolate ball filled with crazy crackly chocolate balls and caramel ice cream (the waiter had a hard time translating that one!) and topped off with one last round of petit-fours with coffee. We found it difficult to walk back to the hotel, but we made it, just.br /br /We started Christmas Day off with a romantic breakfast in the hotel for just the two of us, the highlight of which were the individual glass pots of yoghurts, foil-sealed like milk bottles of old. With everything closed, we had little option but to explore the small town, but there was plenty to see. Arles is an old Roman settlement, the biggest Roman port in the region in its day. This was evidenced by the massive colosseum (which is both being repaired and still in use for concerts etc today) and the Roman ruins littered throughout the city (below).br /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02691-705661.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;” src=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02691-705657.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aBy this stage, the weather was starting to turn grey so we headed back to our hotel room for some lunch – some proscuitto-like ham, cheese and tomato baguettes that we picked up from the markets in Salon de Provence, followed by some span style=”font-style:italic;”calissons/span which we picked up in Aix-en-Provence:br /br /blockquoteAix’s sweetest treat since King Rene’s wedding banquet in 1473 is the marzipan-like local specialty, calisson, a small diamond-shaped chewy delicacy comprising 40% ground almonds and 60% fruit syrup, wrapped in communion wafer and glazed with white icing sugar./blockquotebr /It was simple, but frankly we needed a break from the food for just a second, plus it was as nice as a ham, cheese and tomato sandwich gets.br /br /We spent the afternoon lounging in the hotel room, enjoying the massive bath, robes, slippers and catching up on the news via the free wi-fi. For dinner, we managed to get the last table at one of the very few places open on Christmas Day. A simple restaurant, we started with home-made foie gras with red peppercorns and I had a beautiful plate of meaty scallops with with local wild rice for mains. br /br /On our last day in Arles, we spent the day ambling around the town, including a walk out to the new Musee Departemental De L’Arles Antique on the edge of town. A time to reflect, we wondered how Arles could function as it does – even smaller, more exclusive and comprised of relatively more boutiques and gourmet shops than Aix.br /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02712-759960.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 133px; height: 200px;” src=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02712-759955.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aA bargain lunch (not something easily found in these towns!) including an interesting French take on pea and ham soup and an awesome pork fillet mignon, along with a kiwi-fruit soup for dessert was our last meal before a hasty walk to the train station for our connection to Marseilles. We needn’t have hurried – the train was delayed by 30 mins or so, but it didn’t cause any problems for the trip home.br /br /span style=”font-weight:bold;”Back in England/spanbr /br /Sure, we had our share of public transport issues in France. The delayed train from Arles wasn’t the end of the world and the bus that didn’t turn up could have been avoided had our informant at the information booth been more thorough in her investigations. br /br /However, none of that compared to arriving at ‘London’ Gatwick and finding that there were no trains at all running to London. Only in England would you get the kind of customer service response to Kirsten’s question of why there were no trains: “It’s Boxing Day.” Of course. br /br /At least we spoke English and were used to this kind of rubbish – I couldn’t imagine what all the many foreigners were thinking as we each paid £18 (the same price as a normal Gatwick Express train ticket to central London) for the privilege of piling into a coach for a twice-the-length journey to Victoria station. br /br /Nonetheless, we were happy to be home, as we always are after our trips aboard. France is always a treat for us, and I think that in a different life I would have been French – I could really get used to good food all the time and 35-hr working weeks. Our romantic Christmas getaway was all that we had been hoping for, and the experience was the best present we could have received.br /br /You can see more photos of the trip to France a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/jasontabarias/sets/72157611722969314/show/” target=”_blank”here »/a.

As is probably evidenced by the lack of updates, it’s been a busy period of late. I’m still working in Coventry (and will continue to do so for the foreseeable future) which means that I spend the majority of the week living in a hotel up there and spend my weekends at home. It’s not an ideal life, but for the most part we’ve both got used to it. Nonetheless, the amount of time we spend apart means that we need to work hard to maximise the time we spend together on weekends.br /br /span style=”font-weight:bold;”Cleaning/spanbr /br /To that end, I eventually acquiesced and hired a cleaner. This cleaning ‘company’ was recommended by a co-worker; I suspect that they are no more than a bunch of old Polish school friends who decided to move over here to make more money than they would have being doctors or neuroscientists back home. br /br /It’s actually not that expensive, and now that I have caved in I cannot see any good reason for not doing so earlier. Never have I been so wrong about wanting to not spend money.br /br /The quality of the cleanliness of the house is far beyond anything I could have achieved given an unlimited amount of cleaning time. The place actually looks cleaner than when I originally moved in. Hat’s off – this woman is a professional. The fortnightly clean is all we really need (although this week our lady has returned to Poland for a holiday, so we’ll have to survive 3 weeks without her). Having said that, with cleaning out of the way we are more inclined to tidy up, and its never been more orderly.br /br /Having saved a few hours of cleaning every weekend, we were generally chuffed with ourselves, but the weekend efficiency drive has not ended there!br /br /span style=”font-weight:bold;”Groceries/spanbr /br /Last weekend we were out with some friends who are in a similar work-life position and they asked why we were not doing our grocery shopping online. br /br /Online grocery shopping is something I had tried for a bit back in Australia, but it was clumsy due to the small size immature nature of the market. Here, it’s a different story, and there is (apparently) no reason not to be doing it regularly. We’ve gone with Ocado, who are actually just a delivery service for Waitrose (a premium supermarket which doesn’t physically exist in Clapham). I’ve always wanted to be a Waitrose shopper, and now I am!br /br /The first delivery arrived today, and I could not have been more impressed. The online shop itself was easy, the delivery choices were vast and reasonably priced and the delivery guy (Pavel) brings all the groceries right up the stairs into the kitchen. There were SMS updates to conform my order, remind me of when the cut-off point was for changing or adding to my order and of course the delivery. Pavel apologised for the lack of OJ, which had to be replaced with apple juice. I’ll live.br /br /Free weekend paper thrown in plus a voucher for a free bottle of wine with the next order – this is customer service! What’s more, the shopping itself cost us less than what would have otherwise spent at our weekly shop at Sainsburys. The delivery charge of £5 was very reasonable given that I was able to choose any 1hr slot I liked (aside from Sundays, but they will deliver up to 11pm on weeknights). I’d readily pay £5 to avoid the manic Saturday-morning shopping crowds as all of Clapham’s young professionals (which is 75% of the population of Clapham, it would seem) descend on Sainsburys to scrap over the last remaining ripe tomato.br /br /Another hour or two shaved off our Saturday admin means I have time to write this!

a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/hedgiecc/406632276/”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;” src=”http://farm1.static.flickr.com/163/406632276_4c35d2ed93_m.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aThey always say that it takes going away to realise how good it is at home. That saying was aptly proven this weekend, which we spent in and around London (just for a change).br /br /span style=”font-weight:bold;”Friday/spanbr /br /Friday evening was fairly normal – we met after work in Chinatown and had some nice Japanese (including some great salmon temaki with some kind of sour hot sauce that blew my mind – if anyone knows what sauce that is, let me know) before heading over to Covent Garden to meet up with Kirsten’s friend Laura, her boyfriend Al and a bunch of their friends at a pub. br /br /Covent Garden pubs tend to be busy, touristy and filled with the after-work crowd on Friday night and this one was no exception. As usual, the pub was busy and there were people drinking outside on the street (mainly smokers – it was a little cold) and good vibe. Eventually we managed to find a seat for all 12 or of us, and it was much more civil after that point. It was a great night – Laura and Al’s friends were varied, interesting and friendly – an although we had a relatively early end to the night.br /br /span style=”font-weight:bold;”Saturday/spanbr /br /Saturday really typified the benefits of London. It was cool but clear and bright blue day. After a bit of house cleaning (me) and gym (Kirsten) we headed out to do our weekly shop at the local supermarket before heading down to a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/hedgiecc/406637861/sizes/m/”Macaron/a (pictured, but not my photo) – the cutest French boulangerie/cafe overlooking the Common. We had our cafe-o-lait and a couple of macaroons while we watched the Claphamites catching some rays out in the park, before heading into central London (by bus…no tubes when we can avoid them). br /br /Luckily we have a bus that takes us directly from Clapham into central London’s prime areas, and we alighted on Regent Street (pictured, not my photo) in search of some new clothes for me! I don’t normally get excited about clothes shopping, mainly because I can rarely find anything that fits well and looks good in mainstream stores, but one of the things about London is that you can always, always find what you want eventually. br /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/adriancherciu/2657205716/”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px;” src=”http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3042/2657205716_33bab7f693.jpg?v=0″ border=”0″ alt=”" //aI browsed through a few stores on Regent Street (including a href=”http://www.cosstores.com/”Cos/a, our favourite Scandinavian clothes store – there’s ALWAYS something to buy in Cos if you aren’t careful) before heading into the Carnaby street mall. I managed to find a really cool G-Star winter jacket, which Kirsten convinced me to buy (it was more expensive than I was envisaging, but its a damn nice winter jacket) before heading back on to the high street and my old favourite a href=”http://www.zara.com/”Zara/a. br /br /Zara is one of the handful of places that offers a range of mix-n-match suits which look good, at reasonable prices. I simply can’t find suits that fit me in most other places (though I am tempted by a href=”http://www.bananarepublic.eu/”Banana Republic/a now that they have UK stores), and although they aren’t the most long-lasting suits their price means I can buy new ones regularly, stay up with the latest trends and still come out ahead financially. I picked up a nice lighter grey with two pairs of pants to make it last that little bit longer, as well as a cheap but stylish merino wool vest (which was actually the only thing I actually set out to buy that day).br /br /After shopping we headed over to nearby Mayfair to watch a film as part of the London Film Festival. The Kazamarov Brothers was a Czech film set in Poland, one of Kirsten’s choices of Czech/Slovak language films, which was really interesting.br /br /After the movie we took a quick walk to the other side of Mayfair for a late dinner at Patterson’s, a family-run restaurant with what can only be described as fine dining food at regular prices. What was even better was the discount we got for booking via a promotional web site. The dinner was exquisite – on par with some Michelin star restaurants we’ve been to such as Gordon Ramsay’s Petrus in Knightsbridge – and really ended the night off well.br /br /span style=”font-weight:bold;”Sunday/spanbr /br /Sunday started lazily, with a long lie in and some cleaning/preparation for spending the week away in Coventry (ergh!). The sun was out the sky was blue and it was another beautiful Autumn day again. br /br /After lunch at home we took the train from London Bridge down to Tunbridge Wells in Kent (about and hour and ten minutes on the slow Sunday train), where we met up with Dannie, Julian and their kids who were over visiting from Australia. Julian is from around Tunbridge Wells and Dannie lived there with him for a while before they moved to Australia. They were sizing the place up for a move back, which gave us a great excuse to visit this beautiful town.br /br /Small posh English towns always look better in the sunlight, but Tunbridge Wells is one of those properly nice towns in the English countryside (of which there aren’t as many as you would think). Generally its the kind of place that City bankers commute from, and it has old the child-friendliness and olde worlde charm that you would expect to go along with such a place. It was a shame I didn’t bother to take my camera along. It was great to see Dannie again after a couple of years (and for her to meet Kirsten, whom she knew so well from reading this very blog). br /br /We left Tunbrige Wells around 5pm and headed back into London and headed over to Old Street in the East End for a spot of dinner at our favourite Vietnamese eatery. I had the usual Spring Bowl, while Kirsten went for the beef and chicken pho (plus mandatory summer roll entree) – an excellent combination as always.br /br /We headed back to London Bridge, and by now it was pitch black night which made it perfect for a stroll along the South Bank to the British Film Institute. It was a beautiful night for a walk – crisp and clear, but not that many people out and about. It was a great opportunity to stroll along the south side of the river and gaze upon the beautifully-lit buildings of London.br /br /We were there to see another film in the London Film Festival (and another Czech/Slovak language film) called Blind Loves, which was literally the story of a number of blind people in love. It wasn’t that good to be honest, but it was enjoyable nonetheless.br /br /br /In summary, it was good to be back in London again and enjoying what it has to offer. I’m lucky enough to live in one of the most exciting and enjoyable cities in the world – there’s literally always something going on in London, and while aren’t exactly party animals we do make the most of what London has to offer. What was really just a pretty nice weekend would qualify as a holiday in most people’s book, and I’m so appreciative that I get to have these experiences on a regular basis.

a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02386-709313.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;” src=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02386-709306.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aOn the next leg of our ANZAC tour, we flew from Wellington to Melbourne for a few days. We stayed with an old friend of mine Guy, and his wife Nicola in Coburg in Melbourne’s inner north.br /br /Kirsten and I had both been to Melbourne many times before on holiday, so touristy things were not on the agenda this time around. Our main plan was to assess Melbourne as a future place to live if we were to decide that living in London long-term was not for us. As such, we spent every day pouring over the real estate ads and visiting houses and suburbs around Melbourne to get a feel for the city and places we might like to live. We even went as far as taking public transport in peak hours to get a feel for things.br /br /Amongst this, we also made time to catch up with Kirsten’s sister Lucy who lives in Melbourne and her youngest sister Sophie who happened to be visiting Melbourne for a wedding (this was the first time that all three sisters have been in the same city for some years, I believe) and my old friends Ray and Paul who have moved to Melbourne from Perth and are now married with kids. br /br /On the Saturday, we were lucky enough to be in town for the AFL grand final. Like most of our time in Melbourne it was a fine and warm day, and we headed down to St Kilda and managed to get a good seat in a cool pub with the sun streaming in and free party pies and mini sausage rolls being served – a truly great day.br /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02405-750792.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;” src=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02405-750779.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aWhilst we expected Melbourne to be kind of a half-way point between Perth and London, we found that Melbourne was much more laid back than expected and definitely more towards the Perth end of the spectrum. Having said that, the handy public transport certainly elevates Melbourne a few notches in my book, while housing appeared to be about the same or even cheaper than Perth.br /br /Better still, the things were expected Melbourne to very good at – coffee, food in general and shopping – were all true. While I will probably never be able to buy a good-fitting paid of jeans in Melbourne, I fail to see what else I might be deprived of in other respects. And the cafe scene was simply superb – easily amongst the best in the world.br /br /Speaking of which, I managed to visit with my cousin Ros (pictured below) who I haven’t seen in many many years given that she has always lived on the east coast (Newcastle of late). She is now living in Melbourne and has teamed up with her boyfriend Lindsay to buy a really cool cafe in the trendy Fitzroy area. Guy and Nicola had heard of the cafe when we mentioned it, and it didn’t disappoint on visiting. Kirsten was absolutely smitten with the place, which is a very ‘Melbourne’ cafe. Having her around would be another bonus for living in Melbourne.br /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02417-715961.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;” src=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02417-715953.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aIn all, we really liked Melbourne as a city and a place to live. It lived up to our high expectations and even exceeded them in some ways. Even the beach at St Kilda was more impressive than we had imagined (pictured top), and weather (at least while we were there) was certainly better than London despite everyone’s moaning in Australia. Whilst it doesn’t have the tourist pull of Sydney, its definitely a more liveable city with the not inconsiderable benefit of an almost complete absence of Rugby League reporting.br /br /We definitely see a place for Melbourne in our future.br /br /You can see more photos of the trip to Melbourne a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/jasontabarias/sets/72157607718430821/show/” target=”_blank”here »/a.

a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02287-769934.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;” src=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02287-769906.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aDespite having lived relatively nearby for most of my life, my first visit to New Zealand could hardly have involved more travel – 30 hours and 11 time zones from London to Wellington (via Bangkok and Sydney). br /br /The main reason for the visit was to catch up with Kirsten’s grandparents (Jim and Betty) and the rest of Kirsten’s mum’s family who hail from Paraparaumu, a small town about an hour north of Wellington on New Zealand’s north island. One of Paraparaumu’s claims to fame is that Peter ‘Lord of the Rings’ Jackson grew up nearby and went to Kapiti College, the largest school in Paraparaumu.br /br /We were picked up from Wellington airport by Bruce, Kirsten’s uncle, and driven north on State Highway One. It was immediately obvious that New Zealand offered some amazing scenery. Even on this relatively mundane stretch of road, the rivers, green hills and vegetation were amazing, and they would only get better.br /br /We stayed at Jim and Betty’s house in Paraparaumu (in the aged care village that the Ballinger family had developed and since sold), and immediately fell in with their routine of morning walks and cafe breaks. This was made all the more easy by our jetlag, which had us falling to sleep around 8pm and waking around 5pm, which was not too different from the hours our hosts kept.br /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02295-710725.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;” src=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02295-710721.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aEach day we would accompany Jim and Betty on their morning walks, around Paraparaumu and the surrounding regions. Although his health was declining, 82-year old Jim still made it up some pretty steep hills that had me puffing! The walks were both sedate and beautiful, and made for a real sea-change from London life. If New Zealand as a whole is laid back, Paraparaumu is positively lying down – and that suited us just fine.br /br /We also spent some time with Kirsten’s aunts and uncles, including some light off-roading and bush walks with Sam and Anne to Otaki Forks (where a few local rivers meet) and dinner with the whole Ballinger family at Murray and Val’s nearby farm. In between we had a few little outings of our own, including to visit the nearby a href=”http://www.icebreaker.com” target=”_blank”Icebreaker/a outlet store (a huge drawcard for us, as we love Icebreaker gear) and walks along Kapiti beach, with views out to nearby Kapiti island (pictured above).br /br /One of the highlights of the trip for me was a drive up Paekakariki Hill Road and around the surrounding areas at night with Sam in his Porsche Cayman S – something that most visitors are subject to/privileged to enjoy (delete as applicable depending of your desire to go very very fast on public roads).br /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02353-793213.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;” src=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02353-793188.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aAside from this, we really spent most of our time just hanging out with Jim and Betty at their house. Betty was very chatty and welcoming and was really interested in my family and background. While Jim may not have been as quick as he once was, there were still a few stories to be told about his travels (he’s been everywhere…even Antarctica) and the odd dry joke.br /br /On our last day we travelled with Kirsten’s aunt Ann and her partner Richard to Wellington to stay in Ann’s city apartment. We spent the afternoon on a quick tour of the city, which is bigger than its 300,000 population might suggest and on a sunny day was a very beautiful looking city. The public servants who make up a large percentage of Wellington’s residents have it very nice indeed.br /br /We had a beautiful dinner on the harbour with Ann and Richard before a relatively early night and a early rise to catch our 6am flight to Melbourne.br /br /span style=”font-weight:bold;”Epilogue:/spanbr /br /a onblur=”try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}” href=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02355-769711.jpg”img style=”float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;” src=”http://www.tabarias.com/jasonuk/uploaded_images/DSC02355-769707.jpg” border=”0″ alt=”" //aThis story ends on a sad note, as Jim Ballinger sadly passed away on Friday 3rd October. br /br /I’m personally very honoured and lucky to have had a chance to meet Jim, and I know Kirsten feels equally happy to have seen him so recently. Over the last few months, Kirsten’s sisters had also been to visit Jim and Betty, while he and Bruce had recently been to visit Kirsten’s mum in Perth. br /br /While there is no such thing as a good time for such events, I think he would have been very happy for his family, who are all quite geographically dispersed, to have seen him recently and in relatively good health.br /br /By all accounts Jim was a very successful and driven business man, who achieved a lot in his 82 years and lived a very full life. In the brief time I spent with him, I saw him as a gentle husband, father and grandfather who cared deeply for his family.br /br /Jim will be missed by many, and my condolences go out to his family and all who knew him. br /br /Rest in Peace, Jim.br /br /You can see more photos of the trip to New Zealand a href=”http://www.flickr.com/photos/jasontabarias/sets/72157607717080593/show/” target=”_blank”here »/a