Getting ready for my holiday my level of confidence was and still is at an all time low. Strange how a few words can quickly shatter your self belief, and that the person who says them has no idea of the trauma they have caused.

We moved to a house that we fell in love with just over 6 months ago. We love everything about it, the size, the uniqueness and the endless possibilities. But, this love has been tempered by issues with the roof, manifesting in a large hole in the attic bedroom. As well as indiscriminate leaks in various bedrooms, it was clear that the roof is not in good shape.

As with many homeowners, our lament has been the issue of finding reliable roofers, that turn up and do what needs doing.

Finally securing one that turned up, true to his word, at the time and day stated. From what should have been just an issue with the chimney, it escalated to a wholesale list of terminal roof issues. Together with 25 photos of evidence, it became apparent that what was estimated, quickly reached 8 times that.

A ring at the doorbell, both jarring and ominous sliced through the afternoon calm. Mark stood there, with his solitary tooth. “I was talking to your son earlier about the roof,” he said. Having not met him, I was confused, until the realisation that he meant Pete dawned on me. With disbelief writ7all over my face, I stated in a measured tone that Pete was my husband. With that, he smiled his tooth (not toothy) grin and retorted, “You’ve done well for yourself!”

And…..just like that, I had the overwhelming sense that I had even relegated to the ranks of being an ‘old hag’, not only aged beyond my years but punching way above my sizeable weight. It made me so sad, I can’t say why it triggered such powerful feelings, but my confidence surged into a downward spiral.

I felt like unpacking everything and throwing in anything I have that I have got that could possibly cover me head to toe.

That said cleaning our house took over these negative thoughts, having a succession of cat sitters looking after Yann, both incredibly fluffy and grumpy and Elba, cute but with a tie nibbling penchant; meant that we had to do a clean up of industrial proportions.

We set off from Scarborough at midnight. Prior to leaving, Pete had downloaded lots of music onto a memory stick, which somehow ended up down the drain by our car.

By the time we got to Manchester airport, I felt quite wired. I had woken up the day before at 5 am. and hadn’t slept since.

It always feels quite daunting going through all the airport rigmarole,  the insane thoughts that creep into my head that perhaps I have managed to cram a Kalishnikov into my rucksack or several kilos of heroin. Of course I haven’t, but I always get frisked and always feel guilty, even though I am evidently innocent.

As we went through, yet again, I got stopped. My bra, thought, the gigantic girders of underwire in my bra. As the security frisked me, I jabbered away about my bra. She shook her head, no, no no. Patting me down,  pat, pat, pat on my hernia. Embarrassed, I pointed this out to her. It was not a kilo of hash. “No worries,” she stated confidently, as she confidently continued to pat it, “I am used to it.”

I wanted to scream in her face that I am not used to it. I slapped a thin smile on my face, accepting every indignity that was meted out.

Obviously, nothing was found, and I was waved into the departure lounge.

As we sat down, Annie, Joab and Bea rounded the corner. Bea astride a bee Trunki,beaming from ear to ear. What a fantastic invention that can keep a toddler so happy at 5 in the morning in a bustling airport. Famously rejected in the third series of Dragons Den in 2006, it is infamous as one of their most stupid decisions.

Not to sound alarmly gushy, but the experience of being with a three year old, with high degrees of palpable excitement, is so infectious!

The flight left on time, arrived on time. All good, all wonderful. Going through arrivals was super quick, albeit it still seems weird to have a stamp in your passport for Spain.

Bea was fantastic on the flight, by turns hilarious, cute, and only slightly fractious. But new toys and activities helped to divert her.  I nodded off, snoring with my mouth open. Normally I would be bothered but as there was a slightly raucous stag do, accompanied with loud voices fueled by cider.

We went our separate ways to pick up our hire cars. Only….. we couldn’t find our company. Walking around the airport we couldn’t find our company. So we left and wanderec outside, hit by the overwhelming heat. Again, no immediate luck. We walked to where the shuttle bus could be but again, nothing.  Pete rang them eventually as, sleep deprived and very hot, this was nudging towards being ever so slightly unbearable. We will meet you by the trees in 5 minutes, they said. There are a lot of clumps of trees, but we used our intuition,  which, to be honest was all we could do.

No show after 5 minutes. Another phone call and another delay, 15 minutes now!

In the meantime, a German family waving a copy of their booking with the company, equally confused. ” Sprechen sie Deutsch.” Well, my couple of years of learning German in the 1980s stood me in good stead,” Ein bisschen.” I retorted confidently. Although, I saw their paperwork so was on a very firm footing. They smiled at my answer, assured I was an amazing linguist, ha ha.

Eventually, we were picked up. It couldn’t have come sooner to ve honest, I felt I was melting on the pavement. The German family rallied to the front, but we foiled them. Sleep deprivation and heat can make British queuing go to hell in a handcraft. No way!

We arrived at the car hire, slow, slow slow. The German family managed to nudge before us. It felt that life histories were being swapped. On and on and on, but that said, I was impressed by the linguistic ability they all had.

Eventually, our turn. Too, too many issues to shake a stick at. The car we had booked we couldn’t have, we would have a smaller one. Then a litany of bonuses were agreed, so we were quids in, which was great. But the wait wasn’t great, but for the money we saved, the extras they agreed were worth it.

With that we headed off to our rental in Llubi……

It’s typical but very predictable that the day we are leaving it is sunny, positively balmy.

Flat cleaned, ready for Peter’s inspection. Hoping that he doesn’t talk too much so we can get on our way.

Time enough left to have a walk but not to do anything too big. Packed up so now have an idea of what we can buy to rake back. Mostly selected Easter things, to make a change this year.

Time for a coffee in a rather swish place.

Human League were playing when we entered. Why oh why do I feel I need to fill the vacuum of silence? This is the first band I ever saw I tell the waitress, oh that sounds so cute! Then I felt terribly silly.

These cakes were tiny tiny but yummy yummy.

Peter came, slightly later than expected, grandly produced a postcard of some artwork from the house and with a flourish presented it to me pause for thought about my next direction.

True to his word I got a lie in today. No crisis or pandemonium created. A lovely fresh coffee and a stroopwafflen.

It was a very relaxing start to the day. Annie rang up and Bea sang happy birthday, which is the best birthday present by far. She is soooooo cute and funny.

I have worked out that I have visited Amsterdam 6 times now, 7 to the Netherlands. Have been to a lot of the places, so fancied a bit of a low key day. After all at 58 now, I can only take a certain amount of craziness.

Near to the flat we had passed a small cinema, over a hundred years old. I saw Her Wicked Letters was playing, so that was the start of my birthday treat day.

 Based on a true scandal that stunned 1920s England,  the story centres on neighbours Edith Swan and Rose Gooding in the seaside town of Littlehampton. One day, a series of obscene letters begin to target Edith and the other residents, with suspicion falling upon Rose. As the outrageous letters continue to escalate. Fantastic and a stella cast, Jesse Bulkley never disappoints me.

The swearing was both outrageous and hysterical. I was laughing very loudly at parts, which no one else was really doing so. It reminded me of a time my friend Sara told me about seeing the Pink Panther abroad, the subtitles just said, a bomb, a bomb?, a bomb…. Obviously not reflecting the confusion or intonation. There was no way the subtitles could possibly show a true translation of the phrases.

What a beautiful cinema!

A great start to the day, a really good laugh. 

Having had a few meals out we decided to eat in. Pete is going to make a Moroccan aubergine dish. I lovely treat.

I was going to look for C & A but got sidetracked looking at other shops.

We passed a memorial to Alexei Navalny.

I like writing my holiday memories and if others like them that is a bonus.  I just use downtime moments during the day. Pete caught me yesterday doing just that.

Caught in the act…

Have had lovely messages today, my mam sent me a Gif not bad for someone short of 90!

We have visited a very hip trendy bar called Oedipus. Sitting at the top in a tiny room overlooking the bar. I told the barmaid it was my 58th birthday,  she said what a perfect age. How so?  I asked. Because you can do anything, say anything…. I guess in many ways she’s right. I need to say it as a mantra, not get bogged down in crap.

Chilling in the bar…

The barmaid asked if we had done anything nice and I told her about The Pixies, she started yelping with excitement, saying it was soooooo cool. Still got it!

We have received an email from Easyjet. Delays expected, set off early. This time we will be prepared with sandwiches etc

A lovely relaxing evening was had, topped off with BEa singing happy birthday again in the bath. A perfect day!

So, walking down this road of utterly ridiculous expensive clothes felt unworldly, especially as it was in sharp juxtaposition with the flea market earlier in the day.

Hooftstraat was a very ostentious area, in SUVS are known as PC Hoofttractors, not too similar to the ones in Chelsea.

Pete wanted to look inside but I was too nervous, as obviously we weren’t going to buy anything. I eventually followed into an Alexander McQueen shop. The shop assistant gave a wry smile. So just as the artwork of Robbie Williamson, I went into complete overdrive, verbal diarrhoea exploding across the manicured curating of designs.

I pointed out to the shop assistant that Alexander McQueen was dead, I am sure she probably knew this. Very sad I brokered, as if went back years and had the odd jar together. Yes, yes the shop assistant exclaimed, looking suitably bereft. She hoovered over some clutching with encrusted knuckle dusters. I pointed out in Britain they were called knuckle dusters, she replied witheringly that it was a universal description, probably aghast that I had accompanied it with shadow boxing. Topping it off I exclaimed,  you don’t really do big sizes, as if I was going to buy something.  I think I embarrassed Pete.

Their hotel was lovely, very art deco in some ways, with plush green furniture. They even wore green to blend in.

After a cup of tea and more Tony Chocolonely chocolate we went for a curry.

Bearing in mind it was 6. 30 the place was rammed, which is always a good indication. With only one waiter it was a bit chaotic, interesting to see the Dutch take on curries. The poppadoms were the spicy variety, not deep fried but microwaved. With a small pot of yoghurt, so no pickle tray. No greasy poppadoms, they are very much missing out here. Next onion pakoras. Never, ever, ever seen any like this. A small plate piled with single pieces of deep fried onions. Tasty but not what were expecting.

Not a great picture, but you can get the essence.

The next course was great, aloo and saag and all very tasty.

I can’t believe how much has been consumed during this holiday. Bonkers!

We had a rest after playing with the cats, to recoup our energy levels ready to see The Pixies at The Paridiso.

Like a home from home, Jane and Karl came over for tea beforehand. A vat of pasta, salad and fruit consumed we got a tram to the venue.

On the way to the tram a woman cycled past us, then cycled back to see Pete’s earring. A goldfish in a bag, she was very taken with them, cycling off with a smile.

The queues outside the venue were huge, despite getting there relatively early. Luckily Jane had arranged for us to go through a side entrance, so within minutes we were sitting on the balcony, with fantastic views of the stage.

The place was packed. I think The Pixies played 29 songs. At the end of the night two men who were sat behind us and asked if I was his wife. Pete affirmed that to be the case, when he suddenly whipped up my hand in his and kissed it. All very odd!

Pandemonium was the name of the game this morning. Sleeping happily to be woken by a distraught Pete, who had lost his phone and purse. The flat ransacked, purse found in his jacket pocket…. Who would have thought that. Lengthy phone calls ensued to cancel his phone. On the way back from the gig we had decided to sample continental night life and popped to a late night cafe. The options of where the phone could be was narrowed to the venue, the taxi or the cafe.

Like a naughty teenager Pete declared that all wasn’t lost as he quite fancied a new phone…. Was this planned? Later that afternoon Pete returned to the cafe, they had his phone behind the bar. Overwhelmed with emotion, Pete hugged the barman, the customers let out a big cheer. All was good in the world of mobile phones. Reflecting on the few hours without his phone Pete said he felt much happier not having engaged on social media. But this didn’t last long, sucked in again. 

We had to pick up our chocolate bar creations today. Setting off relatively early we walked there. Stopping off at a shop on route to buy a present for Bea, the joys of grandparenthood, things you would look at and want to buy but couldn’t in the past due to financial constraints don’t figure as you get older, you just buy, buy, buy!

After picking up the chocolate we walked to the very, very windy Waterlooplein market.

We always seem to end up at this market, on the website it is heralded as unique and many other superlatives. As ever, it seemed quite grubby and down at heel, but certainly there are bargains to be had. Piles of clothes, that Ave-Peter, our on line shop could have benefitted from. At 10 euro a kilo, it was a bargain. But we have no room in our bags.

Our walk through the market brought us to the Jewish Museum, our destination.

The temporary exhibition housed work by Sol leWitt. His art seemed familiar, definitely seem in Yorkshire Sculpture Park, googling later I found I was right, his cube based work cslled 123454321 is there.

The baristas always seem so hip and trendy, the rock stars of the food industry. I googled ‘why are baristas so cool’, I didn’t get an answer, but there are loads of sites dedicated to baristas, why are baristas so rude, why are baristas so happy, 9 good reasons to date a barista…..

We looked round the other floors, they had a system of seats with screens and headphones, going through the history of what atrocities took place during the second world war from personal accounts.

Pete saw identity cards not too dissimilar to the ones his grandparents had, had to carry before they were able to escape Berlin. There was another part of the museum dedicated to explaining some rituals attached to the Jewish faith, some I knew of, some I didn’t and some I had misunderstood.

A man talking about blowing a horn was really interesting. He talked about the tradition of blowing the shofar, a horn that is blown a 100 or a 101 times a day on the run up to Rosh Hashanah. It is not something that can be done half heartedly, the blowing to continue for 9 beats. The man travelled the world, proclaiming that he had observed this tradition everywhere he had been, in taxis, in hotel rooms in New Zealand, China and Australia. The sound is loud, very loud and I can’t imagine how people would feel staying next to him or driving him around. I am s surprised he hasn’t caused a pile up somewhere on his travels in far off climes.

We had a coffee after this.

We are planned a well earned break after this and before going to the Moco the modern art museum. We got there too early, whizzed through the ridiculously over priced things in the museum shop. Then still had time on our hands…. We realised we hadn’t sampled the chips and mayonnaise yet.

Cheesy chips with mayonnaise, curry sauce. Yum! It was slightly incongruous to hear the sound of green parakeets flying above as we munched through our chips. They arrived sometime in the 1970s and now there are about 4000 birds, some locals thinking they add  a touch of colour to the city, whilst others voicing concerns on the impact on species such as the woodpecker.

The MOCO was amazing. An old house, Villa Alsberg, built in 1904, with fairly narrow staircases, small rooms housing modern classics of art. The special exhibition was art produced by Robbie Williams, I really liked it and the sentiments he was representing. I am not certain how this exhibition would have gone down in the UK, there is a sense that you have to stay in your own lane and not deviate. Sharing everything so you don’t have to go there!

They had these cards the right way up there. It is still blank. I need to sell myself more!

There were authenticated Banksy pictures. I loved the ones of the soldiers skipping through the meadow.

Seeing more Yayoi Kusama, bringing happy memories of seeing her art in her birthplace in Matsomoto.

Lonely Thoughts by Kaws was also fantastic, vivid colours and challenging concepts.

The digital immersive art really reminded us of an experience in Tokyo.  These were rooms produced by Studio Irma, a Dutch female artist. A very trippy experience.

Outside had some art you could climb on.

Jane and Karl’s boutique hotel was a short walk away in a neighbourhood polar opposite to ours. We meandered down the road, trying to blend in,looking like we belonged in an area littered with designer shops.

There is so much I had forgotten since yesterday, perhaps more tired than I thought I was. We had to wear red or green bands depending  on the add ons for the trips. We were green, so it was access all areas. So when we did the boat trip, the others were driven over by the bus. Red bands versus green bands, it felt like the blue eyes/brown eyes experiment. We were certainly made to feel a cut above the terrible red band wearers.

By the evening in the food hall I was quite exhausted and not a great deal made sense. When buying fried sweet potatoes, I asked asked how big the large portion was. I was convinced  he said they were a satanic size, not gigantic, so the ensuing conversation was quite surreal. They were very tasty.

I may have mentioned the coffee maker, Peter had spent some time explaining how to use. Added to that he had more instructions in plastic wallets, including the specific bean we had to buy. So yesterday I bought a pack of the specified type, which set me back nearly 10 pounds. Being a tad miserly I am working my way through it so not that much is left.

With that in mind I had 5 expressos, which sent me flying! Perhaps I was far too diligent on the coffee drinking.

We were meeting Jane and Karl at Tony Chocoloney’s. Their superstore where you can design a label and invent your own flavour. There was a bit of a queue but not too overwhelming.  Jane sat on the window seat and got chatting to a lovely grey haired 60 something assistant with the Tony Chocoloney T Shirt. I was convinced he was THE Tony of Tony Chocoloney. I googled later and was really disappointed that he wasn’t.

Jane told him that it was my birthday treat and I should get a treat. The Apprentice  contestants should take a leaf out of her book ! She secured the deal and he approached me later giving me two bars of chocolate and promising to take a photo of us with a ‘giant bar’. We didn’t physically make the chocolate but selected a variety of options on a screen and the same with the colour etc of the wrapper, which could be personalised.

Hoping Annie and Joab like our designs and creations.

Following that excitement we headed to a bruin cafe, a brown bar. Local watering-holes that are considered quintessentially Dutch, often full of characters. I did take some great photos but they didn’t come out, which is sad. However, the landlady was pleasant and had a decided Yorkshire twang, coming from Selby but keen to highlight she hadn’t been back for years.

The food fest continued and we had a cheese platter.

I opened one of my dark chocolate bars, Pete was feeling experimental and tried it with the leftover chutney. Pure genius as it was delicious!

Now what to do after eating a platter of cheese….go to a cheese shop with lots of free samples and chutneys. So yet again a cheese fest was had.

Flavours I had never encountered, such as coconut cheese. The assistant later said the owner was very inventive, I said he must be the willy wonka of cheese making as the flavour really worked.

The lavender one was OK but odd.

She told us that she was in her 50s and in her small village she would do traditional dancing fir the tourists. Remembering the pain at 10 years old of breaking in clogs. Her feet bleeding until they had been broken in after three weeks.

She popped up with a ball of young edam and cheese slice. Expertly slicing slivers for us. My friend Sara,  who is half Dutch seemed other worldly, exotic as she would get her Edam out and the cheese slice. It was so out of the norm, but not nowadays.

After all that it was lunch time and we headed to an overly priced pizzaria.

We played 2 frenatic games of Bananagrams, without any tears. Getting up to leave I managed to smash a few glasses. The ones that shatter into 100s of squares. Apologising over and over again the waiter said, just imagine this is a Greek restaurant, it’s all good. It didn’t feel good, I felt like the biggest, clumsiest person ever.

After having an absolutely smashing time we went to the cat barge.

The Poezenboot – The Catboat takes in 200-250 cats per year. Strays, foundlings, abandoned and dumped cats who desperately need help and shelter.

On the boat they are cared for, vaccinated, chipped and castrated, and they receive the necessary care in case of illness or injury. If they are okay again, The Catboat is always looking for a loving and suitable home for their cats. Thousands of cats have already been taken in, cared for and provided with a new future.

But after 45 years on the Amsterdam Singel, The Catboat has been replaced. Which is good as the other one had seen better days.

We gave them lots of love and attention. The white one had no eyes but was happy to be stroked.

We woke up around 4 and try as we might, we never got back to sleep. The excitement of my birthday treat day trip was tangible. Pete went out early hunter gathering croissants and pain au chocolate-still warm from the bakery. With a freshly ground coffee, it all felt very continental!

A day of delights was ahead of us, windmills, cheese, and a boat ride. Meeting at Central Station, Pete upgraded us so that we could have even more fun packed adventures.

When the links are sent to Facebook, I am unable to select the image to go with it. So apologies to the faint-hearted if I put you off your tea, breakfast, supper etc!

We followed Josie dutifully, dodging the cycles. A population of 800,000 and 2 million bikes between them all. During rush hour outside the station it felt like all 2 million were rushing past us. Careful! Shouted Josie, they are ‘killings’. So for the rest of this trip I will think of the bikes as killings! In 2022 291 cyclists were killed up by over 80 from the previous year, so maybe the danger works both ways.

A ‘luxurious’ bus awaited us. Free headphones dished out, so we could benefit from the whole experience. A voice of a woman, not too dissimilar to those heard from the 1950s. A voice so plummy!

The couple in front of us looked like father and daughter enjoying quality time together. This assumption was soon dispelled when we were treated to a floor show by them that involved vigorous snogging. So much so that they didn’t come up for air. I was glad that we had eaten several hours earlier and that it was pretty much digested. It made us both feel very queasy!

Augustine was our main tour guide. The patter much the same the world over. Introducing us to the driver, Nick…..comic pause Schaumaker! Such an absolute card.

Our first stop was Marken, a picturesque village that is encompassed by the largest artificially made lake in Europe. We were heading for the Klompenmakerji. The clog museum. The only place that still makes clogs using steam power. Sebastian showed us how clogs are made. Still widely used across the Netherlands, apparently but I haven’t seen anyone yet….

ISebastian even went as far as to say that since wearing his clogs his gait had improved and made him even more good looking.

After this we walked through the museum, which took all of 5 seconds and into the gift shop.

Pete was quite giddy and found ample photo opportunities.

Although many looked laughable, clogs are naturally water resistant, making them excellent for protecting feet from the wet Dutch climate. There are lots of clog related idioms reflecting their importance. Nu breekt mijn klomp, breaking your clog, meaning you are very surprised as clogs are so solid they can’t break!

After the delights of clogs we walked through Marken to the ‘harbour’ to catch a boat to our next destination. Since 1933, the Marken Express has been sailing daily to Volendam every 30 to 45 minutes. The walk through the village was lovely.

We were first in the queue to embark.

A drink and slice of apple cake. Layers of apple chunks cooked in layers of batter.

By the time we had chomped through this we had reached Volendam and were ready for the next stage, a visit to a cheese factory.

It was interesting but disconcerting as after each sentence she punctuated it with the words ‘my friends’. She explained the cheese making process and why cheese on the Netherlands is round. All the easier to roll onto boats. After this we got to taste 40 different cheeses, as well as mustards. Cheese with nettles, chillies, pesto etc. At eye watering prices.

After scoffing lots of cheeses, buying presents we were given free time. Volandam is like a chocolate box image of Holland, picture perfect.

We found more photo opportunities.

Today was a day of food and lots ot it. Having been to one shop after the other stacked with the same souvenirs, we opted for more food. Poffertjes, pronounced puff ur his.  Little pancakes of deliciousness.

Ours were made by an award winning establishment. We watched as the little yeasty circles cooked before us in the cast iron devices. Opting for the traditional toppings of icing sugar and butter. As they were being assembled in a box I commented on how many there were. The owner said I could have 18 and Pete 2, or I could have one abs Pete 19, he continued with this numerical banter fir a bit. That said they really were delicious

And now more food…. A display of how to make stroopwafels at Woltje’s  bakery. All of this you can now gather is a not so subtle ploy to buy lots of over priced products. The original owner had been forced to diversify in the 1800s as her fisherman husband had drowned and she had 9 children to feed. Volendam is a Catholic enclave within a protestant  region. I did learn something w hilst watching the demonstration, I had always thought it was two pieces made separately and then put together with caramel. I was wrong they are split whilst still warm. Then we got to try lots of types, accompanied by hard sell. The baker  looked quite grumpy.

Back to the coach and onwards to the windmill village. Apparently the Dutch started building windmills as early as 1,200 AD. Out of a village of windmills we were visiting the one that grinds peanuts. Built in 1607 and still going strong. From afar they looked covered in concrete but the closer we got I could see they were thatched.  The grinding wheel, which started life in the 1800s as 5 tonnes is now all these years later 2 and a half tonnes, but still looked massive.

We did more shopping and had more photo opportunities.

By this point I was glad to be going back on the bus and heading back to Amsterdam. I was quite tired. I was glad to see that the couple in front of us looked suitably knackered as we didn’t have any more heated displays of tonsil gymnastics. August in however was still full of energy and treated us to a Dutch lesson. We were all pretty hopeless and the noises we made were akin to exaggerated phlegmy coughs, not what it should have sounded like. Still, it kept us awake.

A break in our flat and then off to meet Jane and Karl at a food hall. We took a while getting to grips with the transport system. It was a lovely night, fantastic company and even better no sign of a QR code in sight. So getting food and drink was seamless,! It was definitely the best one we have ever been to. The Vietnamese food was a winner!

An early start at John Lennon Airport didn’t feel so bad. Everything went smoothly, and security was trouble-free. This was possibly linked to wearing a sports bra rather than an underwired bra made from reinforced girders. A surprise to be able to glide through without the need of a publicly humiliating pat down.

Soon we were on the plane and ready to set out, albeit for the terrifying sound of what seemed like the engine was on its last legs. In no time we were ready to touch down. Everything going seamlessly well. Opting for two aisle seats adjacent to each other had also seemed a great idea that worked well.

I won’t have a wee and hold things up I thought in a moment of madness. I can hold it as it won’t be long to get through security, I thought. Obviously having more belief in my bladder function than I should do.

The start of a queue. OK, so only 45 minutes to get through. I can do this  thought to myself, it will be OK…..

It was the start of something akin to Dantes Inferno, a journey into hell. Imprisoned in a series of rooms and corridors, a purgatory which was hard to  After leaving the corridor, I thought ridiculously that we would go through security, but we entered another circle of hell, a room that had a notice stating another 45 minutes. Again and again, this happened until finally we went through security, got a Netherlands stamp, after over two hours!

An American writer once, “Apparently the Dutch now prided themselves on being better at queues than the English, which was absurd, because standing cheerfully in line was the English national sport. ” I wholeheartedly beg to differ. Everyone, of every nationality was getting hot under the collar, especially when you saw them round a corner only to see 100s more queuing!

What I will say is the pain and boredom of standing for all that time made me forget the sadness,humiliation, trauma of missing out the previous day at a job interview. Ticked all the boxes but not A level Maths. A drive of three hours and a grilling of an hour, a bizarre role play had made me a spent force. Going through in my head how I could have done things differently was replaced with the pain in my feet. So overall a terrible experience but one that helped to erase some of my self loathing.

All that time waiting in the queue involved various games, how many people with false eyelashes, a surprising high percentage. Listening in to conversations, ‘you soft cunt I can’t text you, my phone is fucked’, a great display of Anglo Saxon. All the while I wanted to scream, I didn’t vote to leave the EU.

By the time we had escaped, I was starving and subsequently had a carbon fest. Kassnack followed by a couple of eierkoeken, egg cakes, not too dissimilar to trifle sponges. Yellow, sweet, but not too sweet slightly domed cakes.

Apparently a Dutch weight loss consultant stated they were a healthy snack as they are not made with butter. I should have had more!

The first train we could catch was cancelled due to a collision. But luckily we didn’t have to wait that long for next one.

A pause outside the Central station to revive my feet.

Then we headed to our apartment, stopping for coffee and provisions.

On the way this is the step I slipped on this step. I photographed it later. Like the words of Gang Of Four, I was like a beetle on my back. My head strategically placed under the dribbles of dog piss. All sense of dignity leaving me as people rushed over to help me up. The embarrassment overwhelming any pain I was experiencing.

Luckily  our apartment was close, so I got up with Pete’s help, moving forward quickly without a backwards glance. Peter, the psychiatrist, was there to meet us. Not drafted in to offer psychological help and guidance after the debacle at the airport or the fall. He owns the apartment. He was lovely, but in equal parts I didn’t want him to explain every light switch, which he did with diligence and detail.

The apartment has been designed with a nod to Japenese style. All very beautiful but the paper panels in the doors are filling me with a dread. Peter hasn’t been to Japan but loves the space efficient designs they.

All so tasteful, many art books to delve into from Picasso to Schiele. I will not sit on this chair, it looks like it should be in a gallery and not for everyday use.

Eventually Peter left, his tour of the lights, how to use to coffee machine etc stretched for nearly an hour. Just before he parted he gave us a monologue o  how to look after the tulips he had bought me for my birthday.  He brought out a small watering can with struct instructions on how to water them in precisely 48 hours.

There are some things left in the fridge for us to drink, as a gift and other things to replenish. I an uncertain about the Black Label Johnny Walker I found in the freezer!

We went for a walk around, buying more provisions.

Initially, I hadn’t noticed the Japanese  porn/art in our bedroom behind a bamboo screen,

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So to the last few days of the holiday. The journey to Carmen Del Playa, Mexico from Belize was lengthy and at times quite uncomfortable. It was an early start, a ferry from the island at 6, a pick up from Belize City and onwards to the Belize/Mexican border. Luckily this time I managed to get through all the border checks without any drama.

No guns allowed inside. One thing that happened both going into Belize and into Mexico is a fruit and vegetable check. Anything like that has to be thrown away.

It took nearly four hours to get to the border. We stopped about an hour after this at a restaurant next to a lake. It was incredibly posh, a stark difference from Caye Caulker. A jazz band playing chilled out tunes, and a view of a beautiful multicoloured lake, known as Bacalar Lagoon, or the lake of seven colours. At almost 26 miles long it is huge, due the varying depths of the water it creates turquoise, indigo and dark indigo changes in colour. It was startling! Even better we could have a dip whilst waiting for our food. It was a bit like Rio Dulce when only a few of us took the chance of a cool dip.

It was so refreshing after having a journey which consisted of many bumps and a bit of metal sticking into my thigh.

We had a Caesar salad. I hadn’t realised this was a Mexican invention.

Back on the bus and another four hours of bumps and metal digging into my thigh.

The bus driver, Daniel Limon had a penchant for Abba, which seemed a bit incongruous with the surroundings.

It went much quicker than expected, which is lucky as I was beginning to feel quite stir crazy. On the map the distances didn’t look too far – over two weeks we have travelled close to 3000 kilometres, been to 6 places, three countries and had 20 bus journeys. Can’t remember the number of ferries etc. Bonkers!

Playa del Carmen our final destination was reached, all in one piece. A coastal resort along the Yucatan Peninsula known for its ‘laid back bohemian vibe’. By the time we reached the hotel it was already sunset. The hotel is basic but lovely, which was such an improvement from the last one which was the embodiment of loppy.

We decided not to go out with some of the group but explore by ourselves. We headed to 5th Street, which can only be described as three miles of insanity. High end shops, intermingled with colourful souvenir shops, scantily clad dancers of both sexes, street entertainers and a absolute cacophony of noise.

We stopped at a restaurant and had Caesar salad again, but it was made in front of with a great deal of showmanship and a flourish.

This was a first!

We were given three lots of free shots of tequila, so the journey back to the hotel was fuelled by this. We were encouraged to buy it, a hundred and seventy pounds! It’s the sort of place where you constantly feel you are being ripped off, primarily because you probably are.

The next day we had a mixture of history and swimming. Visiting the coastal site of Tulum and some cenotates.

The ancient Mayan ruins are perched on cliffs overlooking the Caribbean.

1. Tulum means wall in Maya, however, the town’s original name, Zamá (pronounced zam-MAH) translates as “Place of the dawning sun.”
2. It was one of the few enclosed cities built by the Mayas. With walls on three sides and the Caribbean Sea on the other, Tulum was built to be a fortress.

It was a fair walk from the drop off. People dressed up with an assortment of animals that you could have your photo opportunity with, for a price. There doesn’t seem to be much care for animals here. The night before we passed a place where there were two beautiful baby tigers being lined up for photos. It was disgusting. So when we were asked if we wanted a photo with a monkey, parrot or iguana, my answer was the same to each of them, I would prefer to see them in their natural habitat.

Not certain what the ancient Mayans would make of it all.

When we entered the site there were loads of iguanas of various sizes.

It was absolutely boiling hot, the hottest I have felt since arriving nearly two weeks ago.

The architecture was interesting as it had been modified over the centuries by successive generations.

Although impressive I was glad to move on to the cenotes. But not before exiting through the gift shop.

The cenotes are the natural swimming holes or caves in Mexico. Created by the collapse of porous limestone, revealing a magical subterranean world. You can find them across the world, there are many in this region of Mexico. They are truly amazing, we when to two cenote sites, each with a number of pools both open and within the caves.

It didn’t feel scary swimming through the caves and crevices, I thought I would be but I wasn’t, it was just so beautiful and calming.

The other group of cenotes were busier, full of Mexican families having their weekend fun. This one very much divided the opinion of the group. I liked it as in many ways we haven’t really linked in with locals. In the busier one the cenote were full of garra rufa – known as doctor fish. They are the ones that you could find in tanks that you could pop your feet in, much better here. They nibble away at dead skin on your feet. They weren’t much interested in mine but they loved Pete’s.

Another odd thing about the second cenote was a film shoot by the mangrove area in the cave entrance.

A group of mermen and mermaids being filmed underwater. Apparently they go round the world doing it!

The water was so cool and refreshing. The heat in Mexico feels relentless. The temperature has been a steady 36 degrees.

G Adventures, the company we are travelling with believe in ethical tourism and they support a number of local causes. One of these is the El Hongo Commuity Restaurant in Playa del Carmen.

Playa del Carmen has become built-up by mass tourism and this project takes travellers to see ‘the other side’ with a home-style meal at volunteer-run restaurant El Hongo. G Adventures groups enjoy a meal at the restaurant and tour the neighbourhood, learning about the vivid street art the kids created with support from this social enterprise.

Many children don’t go to school in Mexico, and as a result the opportunities that are afforded them can lead them towards the cartels in the area. This project helps to develop their artistic skills, as well as pride in themselves and the community they live in.

We had a lovely meal, but had to top it up later with tacos.

This was the last night with the group. I didn’t feel an immediate bond with anyone. Everyone seemed lovely but I realise as I get older that my tolerance for small talk is lessening as time goes by. The group was mostly Swiss, with someone from Germany and two from Austria. It’s been a great experience though, and one that has given us the confidence to go it alone in this part of the world next time.

Today was a chillout day, which was very much appreciated. We took the advice of the island.

We got up really early to see the sunset, as we had been told it was stunning.

We wandered round the island, assuming that it would be quiet at that time. It was quite busy, people cycling to work, golf carts (the preferred mode of transport) going back and forth.

We went to Errolyn’s FryJack cafe. Didn’t disappoint again. Lots of workmen were there, it was still only 6.30am.

The day was a mixture of swimming, resting, and eating.

Coming to a place like this does highlight environmental issues, such as the high use of pesticides in the Amazon region and the knock on effect it has. It has created more growth of sargassum, which looks like a seaweed but is an algae. So the build up sargassum has an impact on small fishes, that get entwined in it all. So when the sargassum comes on to the beach, it comes with lots of trapped aquatic life and it stinks.

We swam in a part called The Split between two islands. I hadn’t expected the current to be so strong.

Pete found the animal sanctuary, it was chaotic but the man who ran it knew what he was doing. We couldn’t take the dogs for a walk until after 4, as it would be too hot for them otherwise. We took a dog called Bloodline out for a walk.