Annabel Barber visits the beautiful area around Lake Garda, ‘the land where the lemon trees bloom’.
“Kennst du das Land, wo di Zitronen blüh’n?” asked Goethe breathlessly, in one of his most famous lyrics. “Do you know the land where the lemon trees bloom?” He was desperate to share his secret of where earthly bliss could be found. He believed he had discovered it, on Lake Garda. “I have exchanged the cold, clammy north for the radiant air of Italy!” he exclaimed in one of his elegies. He was thirty-seven years old and was finally escaping to sow his wild oats, fleeing the constraints of his job at the court of Weimar and the manacles of a “platonic” friendship with a demanding older woman. Lake Garda, for him, was a dream come true. And he had never seen lemon trees before. Continue reading Lake Garda
My visit to Iguassu Falls in Argentina was one of those highlights of a lifetime – and it turns out, not just for the spectacular waterfalls themselves – it was going to be an extraordinary opportunity to see wildlife close up, too.
The 5-hour bus journey up the east coast of Vietnam from Saigon was packed full of near misses, a distinct lack of seats, and a police pullover. The driver appeared to be more focused on speaking on his mobile than the safety of the passengers and we could both see the headlines about two British backpackers being involved in a road accident. After what could only be described as the worst travel experience of both our lives, we finally arrived at the Zenora Beach Resort, Mui Ne.
Enough about the journey, after eleven hours drive we arrived early on a chilly and damp morning at Goreme, longing for a hot breakfast and a stretch on a bed. Our host – an absolutely lovely, sincere and genuine elderly man who runs his family business with a little help of his hot-air-ballon-business-occupied son and his stunningly gorgeous daughter-in-law. It was a simple establishment but extremely welcoming. Emre, the host, after asking what we would like for breakfast, got on his motorbike to get fresh ingredients for menemen – a type of omelet with garlic, hot green peppers and tomatoes baked in a clay pot. That was served with soft and fragrant Turkish bread and a glass of instant coffee. I must admit that was the best breakfast of my life. 
Before we managed to get to the open air museum, a monastery with cave churches, we couldn’t resist but pop into a cave cafe. It was a rainy and chilly day and we were definitely in need of tea and something sugary. My choice was Kemal Pasha (not to be confused with Mustafa Kemal Pasha) – a dessert that tastes heavenly. A few baked balls of dough soaked in sugary syrup washed down with Turkish tea drank from an ever so delicate tulip-shaped glass improved my mood no end. I was ready to face the enemy – the unpleasant weather in the open air museum. The museum was great, but the tastes, views and smells of that day will stay with me longer.
The rest of the day was glorious; weather and sightseeing wise. Ihlara valley was next on the itinerary and it struck us with its beauty. It is the most well known out of Cappadocia valleys, and no wonder. Greeting the two playful donkeys on our trek we reconnected with nature. Another valley we had a chance to look at from above was the Pigeon Valley dotted with man-made caves. It was the highlight of the day for me, especially when our guide explained the controversy over the use of the caves. They have been used by people for centuries, but now UNESCO claims that people should stay away from them as they are pigeons’ habitat. And then I saw melancholy in the guide’s eyes. They were looking glazed over at the fatherland; the voice expressed injustice while uttering the words: “…as if people were not important”.
Our first point of call after dumping our luggage in our small, but clean room, was to visit JJ’s Brazilian BBQ Restaurant for some much needed food. As we sat outside enjoying dinner and a few beers, our conversation was often drowned out by the sound of motorbikes zooming past, which was a sign of things to come. We then took a stroll up and down the main shopping street and checked out the Ben Thanh Market. We spent most of our time trying to dodge motorbikes at junction crossings, and also those cyclists who couldn’t be bothered waiting at the lights and decided that the pavement was a more viable option. This was the perfect time to turn in for the night.
That night we popped into BBQ Square for dinner and drinks and caught some of the English Premiership football. It was worth the price of the meal alone to watch Sharon slowly and stubbornly make her way through a chicken fried rice dish with chopsticks. After dinner we headed to the night market to see what bargains we could pickup. I made some new friends at one of the stalls, a mother and daughter combo. Within a few minutes, I was sitting on a stool in their tent and trying to drum up some custom for them, as the daughter tried to locate me a ‘Good Morning Vietnam’ vest. I love a bargain and ended up purchasing 3 vests for a total of £10, before heading home for the night a happy man.