I've been publishing my blog both here on blogger.com and also on wordpress.com. I've found blogger quite frustrating to use and it doesn't have as much functionality as wordpress, despite my high hopes due to it's integration with Google.
So on that note, I've decided to use Wordpress and Blogger will no longer be updated.
Click to visit me at: http://urbanemusings.wordpress.com/
Monday, May 10, 2010
Sunday, May 9, 2010
4 days in Barcelona
Barcelona, or 
in ancient Iberian, certainly lived up to it's reputation for fabulous food, wine, sunshine & culture all served up with a pinch of chaos for the 4 days I was there.
I arrived at BCN on a Transavia (budget airline of KLM) flight from Rotterdam which could only be described as uneventful, exactly how I like my flights. It's unfortunate in a way that one's first impression of Barcelona is likely to be its airport but I guess this is the case for many a wonderful city (I'm looking at you London Heathrow). In this case the airport was clean and appeared to be functioning as intended but the layout is dreadful and I was forced to walk literally from one end of the terminal where the plane arrived all the way to the other end of the terminal where the baggage claims are, a distance that can't have been far off a kilometre. Then, to add insult to injury, if one wishes to take the train into Barcelona, one must walk all the way back to the other end of the terminal (on the lower level now) where my plane was still sitting before crossing a long bridge to finally arrive at the train terminus. This was a good 20 minute walk! And signage was sorely lacking. Anyway, enough whingeing. My luggage arrived unscathed and it is true that BCN is undergoing a major renovation and extension so perhaps these issues will be solved in time.
Train into city. 3€. Bargain. This was my first visit to Spain so I was eagerly looking out the window as we headed into the city. My first impression of the countryside was that it looked very hot and arid which I suspect is exactly what it is. We travelled through industrial sites before reaching the outskirts of the city so it wasn't the prettiest outlook and, like most large European cities, the suburbs are crammed full of large Soviet style apartment blocks. After a long and somewhat fraught change at Passeig De Gracia on to the Metro I arrived at Jaume 1, the closest subway stop to our apartment. I emerged blinking into the sunlight, got my bearings via iPhone and began the short walk to the accommodation. I quickly realised that, like the Romans and the Parisians, Barcelonians are impatient (ahem) drivers that make full and unbridled use of their horns.
For me, the booking of accommodation, be it hotel, apartment, chateau, is always an act filled with trepidation. I freely admit that I am intolerant of noise on a pathological scale and so, given that this is difficult to judge when making the booking, I was nervous that sleep would be in short supply as our apartment at Plaça d'Antonio López 6, Barcelona, Spain is near a busy road. I needn't have worried. The apartment is sensibly arranged with a double height lounge/kitchen at the front of the building and then the bedrooms, cave-like, nestled at the back, one on the lounge level and one on a mezzanine level, both with bathrooms. It was a high quality apartment with few faults and I can report that I slept like a baby for the 4 nights I was there. You can book the same apartment via Friendly Rentals.
Our apartment building
The next day, Friday, was the wedding of Chan and Neasa, an Irish/Sri Lankan/Kiwi wedding in Barcelona. Perfectly sensible. Again, I direct you to Caroline's blog for photos and an account (mostly of the wonderful food). All I want to add is that the setting was amazing, the food delicious, the company hilarious, the dancing Irish, and the happy couple delightful.
On Saturday morning we were up early(ish) to make the most of our 2 remaining days in Barcelona. We started with a quick coffee (almost always exceptional in Barcelona) and a bikini (not what you think it is...) before heading to the Mercat de Sant Josep de la Boqueria, supposedly the best market in Europe. Of course with such a grandiose claim it is easy to be sceptical but I have to say I left feeling fairly convinced. It was very large and stocked with the most luscious and well-presented fruit, vegetables, fish, meat and cheese I have ever seen. There were even stalls where you could choose eggs from different varieties of chicken! We stocked up on some delicious jamon (parma ham), cheese, strawberries, and olives. I would happily shop there on a weekly basis if I was a Barcelonian and certainly many of them appeared to be.
Caroline and I were with our friends from Wellington/Stockholm, Nick & Rachel and their 2 kids, Ollie & Alice so after the market we wandered down La Ramblas to watch the street performers some of whom were very entertaining, others, not so much...
Street Performer on La Ramblas
La Ramblas terminates at the waterfront so we wandered along looking at the sights in search of a paella. After-all, one could hardly visit Barcelona without having paella at least once, or in our case, twice. Coupled with a rosé from the Penédés region the first time and a crisp Gessami Muscat Alexandria Sauvignon Blanc the second time the paella was delicious and fulfilling. And the setting for our Sunday lunch was magnificent, sitting on a terrace looking out across the beach to the Mediterranean.
No visit to Barcelona would be complete without viewing a selection of Gaudi's works. Given the shortness of our visit we were only able to visit La Sagrada Familia and Parc Güell but they are arguably the most famous and spectacular. Sagrada Familia is a Roman Catholic church that has been under construction since 1882 and is still far from complete. It is both mad and amazing and there is nothing else like it in the world. I highly recommend a visit and it is worth paying to see the interior.
We took a taxi to the park and thankfully he asked us whether we would prefer to go to the top gate or the bottom gate as the park is very steep. It was a very hot day and we were extremely pleased not to be trudging up the thousands of steps unlike most of the other tourists. Instead we were able to meander down with an amazing view of Barcelona spread out before us. The park really is quite mad and there are amazing mosaics and sculptures everywhere.
We spent the rest of the day exploring the Gothic quarter and basically doing some shopping. It was refreshing to find small independent shops that were unique to Barcelona and not chain stores that you see in every international city in the world. I managed to buy myself a trilby hat and a bright green satchel with a Vespa on it. Can't decide if the bag is too camp or not but I really like the hat!
That's about all I have to report on Barcelona. It is a fabulous city and I wish I had had longer to explore it further. I will certainly be back soon.
in ancient Iberian, certainly lived up to it's reputation for fabulous food, wine, sunshine & culture all served up with a pinch of chaos for the 4 days I was there. I arrived at BCN on a Transavia (budget airline of KLM) flight from Rotterdam which could only be described as uneventful, exactly how I like my flights. It's unfortunate in a way that one's first impression of Barcelona is likely to be its airport but I guess this is the case for many a wonderful city (I'm looking at you London Heathrow). In this case the airport was clean and appeared to be functioning as intended but the layout is dreadful and I was forced to walk literally from one end of the terminal where the plane arrived all the way to the other end of the terminal where the baggage claims are, a distance that can't have been far off a kilometre. Then, to add insult to injury, if one wishes to take the train into Barcelona, one must walk all the way back to the other end of the terminal (on the lower level now) where my plane was still sitting before crossing a long bridge to finally arrive at the train terminus. This was a good 20 minute walk! And signage was sorely lacking. Anyway, enough whingeing. My luggage arrived unscathed and it is true that BCN is undergoing a major renovation and extension so perhaps these issues will be solved in time.
Train into city. 3€. Bargain. This was my first visit to Spain so I was eagerly looking out the window as we headed into the city. My first impression of the countryside was that it looked very hot and arid which I suspect is exactly what it is. We travelled through industrial sites before reaching the outskirts of the city so it wasn't the prettiest outlook and, like most large European cities, the suburbs are crammed full of large Soviet style apartment blocks. After a long and somewhat fraught change at Passeig De Gracia on to the Metro I arrived at Jaume 1, the closest subway stop to our apartment. I emerged blinking into the sunlight, got my bearings via iPhone and began the short walk to the accommodation. I quickly realised that, like the Romans and the Parisians, Barcelonians are impatient (ahem) drivers that make full and unbridled use of their horns.
For me, the booking of accommodation, be it hotel, apartment, chateau, is always an act filled with trepidation. I freely admit that I am intolerant of noise on a pathological scale and so, given that this is difficult to judge when making the booking, I was nervous that sleep would be in short supply as our apartment at Plaça d'Antonio López 6, Barcelona, Spain is near a busy road. I needn't have worried. The apartment is sensibly arranged with a double height lounge/kitchen at the front of the building and then the bedrooms, cave-like, nestled at the back, one on the lounge level and one on a mezzanine level, both with bathrooms. It was a high quality apartment with few faults and I can report that I slept like a baby for the 4 nights I was there. You can book the same apartment via Friendly Rentals.
I arrived in Barcelona an hour or so ahead of my friend Caroline so had already made my way separately into the city. On the way I was feeling extremely paranoid having been warned about pickpockets due to the fact I had 1000€ in my wallet in order to pay for the apartment. Accordingly my wallet was in my front jeans pocket which would have required a pickpocket of extraordinary skill to extract it. Or some blatant groping. Either way, my wallet was not stolen and I was able to check in and pay for the apartment and the security deposit. Caroline didn't fare so well. I received a text that a guy had extracted her wallet from the pocket of her suitcase on the stairs of the metro and would have got away with it if not for the intervention of a little old lady and her handbag. Apparently said little old lady witnessed this ruffian stealing the wallet and started screaming and bashing him round the head with her handbag. Naturally this attracted some attention from other passers-by who came to assist. Long story short, the wallet was retrieved and the robber scarpered. Crisis averted.
Given the state of Caroline's nerves after the fraught metro trip our first point of call was a wine bar. I consulted the Lonely Planet guide on my iPhone and found a wine bar on Placa de Santa Maria called La Vinya del Senyor. It is located right in front of the Santa Maria del Mar Church and has a huge selection of wine and tapas. Unusually they offer quite a few wines by the glass giving us the opportunity to sample different Temperanillo's without having to buy full bottles. As recommended by Lonely Planet we sat upstairs in the window which gave us a commanding view of the piazza and the Church - extremely convivial and the travel tribulations were soon forgotten. I direct you to Caroline's blog for a more detailed analysis of the wine and tapas.
La Vinya del Senyor opposite Santa Maria del Mar in Barcelona
The next day, Friday, was the wedding of Chan and Neasa, an Irish/Sri Lankan/Kiwi wedding in Barcelona. Perfectly sensible. Again, I direct you to Caroline's blog for photos and an account (mostly of the wonderful food). All I want to add is that the setting was amazing, the food delicious, the company hilarious, the dancing Irish, and the happy couple delightful.
On Saturday morning we were up early(ish) to make the most of our 2 remaining days in Barcelona. We started with a quick coffee (almost always exceptional in Barcelona) and a bikini (not what you think it is...) before heading to the Mercat de Sant Josep de la Boqueria, supposedly the best market in Europe. Of course with such a grandiose claim it is easy to be sceptical but I have to say I left feeling fairly convinced. It was very large and stocked with the most luscious and well-presented fruit, vegetables, fish, meat and cheese I have ever seen. There were even stalls where you could choose eggs from different varieties of chicken! We stocked up on some delicious jamon (parma ham), cheese, strawberries, and olives. I would happily shop there on a weekly basis if I was a Barcelonian and certainly many of them appeared to be.
Fruit!
Meat!
Olives!
More Meat!
Eggs!
Fish!
Chocolate!
Cheese!
La Ramblas terminates at the waterfront so we wandered along looking at the sights in search of a paella. After-all, one could hardly visit Barcelona without having paella at least once, or in our case, twice. Coupled with a rosé from the Penédés region the first time and a crisp Gessami Muscat Alexandria Sauvignon Blanc the second time the paella was delicious and fulfilling. And the setting for our Sunday lunch was magnificent, sitting on a terrace looking out across the beach to the Mediterranean.
No visit to Barcelona would be complete without viewing a selection of Gaudi's works. Given the shortness of our visit we were only able to visit La Sagrada Familia and Parc Güell but they are arguably the most famous and spectacular. Sagrada Familia is a Roman Catholic church that has been under construction since 1882 and is still far from complete. It is both mad and amazing and there is nothing else like it in the world. I highly recommend a visit and it is worth paying to see the interior.
We took a taxi to the park and thankfully he asked us whether we would prefer to go to the top gate or the bottom gate as the park is very steep. It was a very hot day and we were extremely pleased not to be trudging up the thousands of steps unlike most of the other tourists. Instead we were able to meander down with an amazing view of Barcelona spread out before us. The park really is quite mad and there are amazing mosaics and sculptures everywhere.
We spent the rest of the day exploring the Gothic quarter and basically doing some shopping. It was refreshing to find small independent shops that were unique to Barcelona and not chain stores that you see in every international city in the world. I managed to buy myself a trilby hat and a bright green satchel with a Vespa on it. Can't decide if the bag is too camp or not but I really like the hat!
That's about all I have to report on Barcelona. It is a fabulous city and I wish I had had longer to explore it further. I will certainly be back soon.
Citroen DS - the saga - restoration begins
Well as mentioned in the previous Citroen post a man came yesterday from the Netherlands to collect my DS from the Citroen garage where it has languished untouched for the past 6 months or so. No-one from said garage was even on hand to help or apologise for having done no work on her. It was simply left with the key in it for me to collect. No matter.
Andre (the Netherlander) arrived in his own 1973 DS23 with a large car trailer and I met him outside Antwerp so we could go to the garage together. I was pleasantly surprised to find that Brigitte appeared to be in much the same condition as when I last saw her 6 months ago despite sitting outside all winter. I was a bit worried that she would be a rust-riddled hulk but I seemed to have dodged that bullet.
As expected the battery was completely dead but thankfully Andre had the foresight to bring a spare. Despite this and repeated valiant attempts by the starter motor we were unable to coax Brigitte into life. The trailer had a winch so ordinarily this wouldn't be such an issue but bear in mind the DS sits very low to the ground unless you can get the hydraulics going and we worried she would get bellied as we winched her on to the trailer. As it turned out, she just cleared the edge by millimetres, helped by the fact that Andre could raise his DS up as high it would go thereby tipping the trailer slightly.
I was on winch duty so I slowly but surely dragged her up on to the trailer while Andre performed steering adjustments. All went well until we realised that we had forgotten to put up the windows first and because she now sat so low and the trailer had sides, we couldn't open the doors to put them up. Hope it doesn't rain!
With her on the trailer and well strapped down we headed back towards Antwerp. I was surprised how well the DS23 managed to pull it given that I remember it being a struggle towing her behind the Mazda6 diesel. Must have been quite a sight, a DS on a trailer behind another DS. Pity I didn't have my camera...
Andre dropped me back at my car and off he went to Zeeland, the Netherlands. Hopefully he made it without incident! I haven't heard otherwise. So Brigitte is now here. This is Andre's website for his restoration business. Maybe I could offer to build him a new one!
Andre (the Netherlander) arrived in his own 1973 DS23 with a large car trailer and I met him outside Antwerp so we could go to the garage together. I was pleasantly surprised to find that Brigitte appeared to be in much the same condition as when I last saw her 6 months ago despite sitting outside all winter. I was a bit worried that she would be a rust-riddled hulk but I seemed to have dodged that bullet.
As expected the battery was completely dead but thankfully Andre had the foresight to bring a spare. Despite this and repeated valiant attempts by the starter motor we were unable to coax Brigitte into life. The trailer had a winch so ordinarily this wouldn't be such an issue but bear in mind the DS sits very low to the ground unless you can get the hydraulics going and we worried she would get bellied as we winched her on to the trailer. As it turned out, she just cleared the edge by millimetres, helped by the fact that Andre could raise his DS up as high it would go thereby tipping the trailer slightly.
I was on winch duty so I slowly but surely dragged her up on to the trailer while Andre performed steering adjustments. All went well until we realised that we had forgotten to put up the windows first and because she now sat so low and the trailer had sides, we couldn't open the doors to put them up. Hope it doesn't rain!
With her on the trailer and well strapped down we headed back towards Antwerp. I was surprised how well the DS23 managed to pull it given that I remember it being a struggle towing her behind the Mazda6 diesel. Must have been quite a sight, a DS on a trailer behind another DS. Pity I didn't have my camera...
Andre dropped me back at my car and off he went to Zeeland, the Netherlands. Hopefully he made it without incident! I haven't heard otherwise. So Brigitte is now here. This is Andre's website for his restoration business. Maybe I could offer to build him a new one!
Saturday, May 8, 2010
Citroen DS - the saga - backstory
I've been avoiding this topic for quite some time as I have a bad habit of putting off and ignoring anything bad in the hope that it will go away. Unfortunately when you have purchased a 1965 Citroen DS19 Pallas in "perfect" condition only to discover that it isn't, ignoring it doesn't tend to help. Nevertheless, I gave it a go. It didn't work out so now I must face up to it and do something about fixing the damn thing.
Back around July 2009 I suddenly became obsessed with the idea of buying a DS. I have always loved them of course because of the fabulous ahead-of-it's-time styling and innovative technology, but mostly I just loved the fact that they went up and down on hydraulic suspension. That's me, a sucker for anything with unnecessary moving parts...
Anyway, after a short but frenzied search of the internet and incessant boring of my friends and co-workers I happened upon what appeared to be just what I was looking for. I had been searching for a 1967 DS Pallas but unfortunately this is the model everybody wants as it incorporates all the most desirable features - the old nose, the second dashboard, and the reliable 'green' hydraulic system as opposed to the older problematic 'red' hydraulic system. I was forced to compromise and, being me, I compromised on the hydraulics so I could still have the "look" I wanted. A 1965 DS with the old nose, the second dashboard and the older problematic 'red' hydraulic system was duly purchased from an old guy in the Netherlands.
Now this car really did look to be in perfect condition. It's bodywork is in great shape, the chrome has barely any marks and the interior was excellent. It had been recently restored so there was no rust and according to the vendor it ran smoothly. Unfortunately, because he had imported it from Belgium to the Netherlands and never registered it I was unable to take it for a proper drive other than around his paddock. But, again, he assured me it was in great working order. So I agreed a purchase price of 8500€ (far too much in retrospect), loaded the DS on a trailer and towed it back to Belgium feeling very pleased with myself. I was living my dream and I decided to name her Brigitte.
Below are some pictures of Brigitte as she was when I collected her:
Unfortunately, shortly after I had her home and before I had had a chance to register her in Belgium a worrying pool of red hydraulic fluid began to pool beneath her. She had, as far as I could tell, 3 separate leaks. I enlisted the help of a local DS specialist who came and had a look and proceeded to tell me that yes, she was in fact leaking hydraulic fluid and that is not a good thing. She also has rust in all the doors that I hadn't spotted and the wiring appears dodgy. Great. So anyway, he said he could fix it so I arranged to drive it to his workshop about 20kms away ignoring the fact it was neither registered nor insured - I was desperate.
After several aborted attempts due to the battery going flat I managed to get her going and out of the underground carpark (which I'm sure pleased my BMW a lot as it had been parked on the street while this upstart stole it's carpark). The DS drove reasonably well most of the way until, as I was nearing my destination, it started to fail and try as I might I couldn't keep it running at a stop light. She died. I called my friend and he came and towed her the remaining couple of kilometers to his workshop. Bear in mind that this had to be done quickly before the pressure left the hydraulics and she sank down on her haunches rendering her immobile. What had I gotten myself into?
The stalling problem was traced to the electrical system and my friend performed a number of repairs as well as fixing some of the leaks in the hydraulics (not all of them as it turned out later). My next task was to take her to the Belgian equivalent of the DMV for registration. Here it is possible to register an oldtimer on a special O plate for limited use which involves little or no checking of the cars road-worthiness. I still failed. We were unable to find the VIN which is, unfortunately, still necessary. Having failed the registration I began the drive back to my work where I could at least store her until I worked out my next move. We didn't make it. I found myself in a cloud of smoke on the side of the motorway again wondering what the hell I had done.
This time, because my friend told me he had no further time to devote to this cause, I had the DS towed to the nearest Citroen garage thinking that they at least would be able to diagnose the problem and maybe fix it. Confidence was not inspired when they rang me later asking how to start the car. All automatic DS's are started in the same way by pushing the gear lever to the left, definitely a trap for newcomers but they are a Citroen garage! Anyway, they got her going and took her for a drive after which they called me to inform me that the engine seemed fine but whilst on the test drive they broke a driveshaft... Sigh...
At this point I began to despair (more) and entered avoidance mode. The garage apparently did too as they never called me to let me know which part I had to buy so I just let it sit there... for nine months. During which time we had the worst winter in 30 years with much snow and ice. I'm scared to see what condition she is now in.
Anyway, to the present. Summer has arrived in Belgium and I began to feel inspired and resolved to do something about Brigitte. I knew I couldn't really sell her in her current condition so I should bite the bullet and restore her, regardless of what it was going to cost me. Upon recommendation from a Citroen forum I have found a restorer in Zeeland, the Netherlands who is coming this afternoon with a truck to collect her. He is going to make a plan (I like the sound of that - it sounds efficient) and then we will determine what the restoration process should be. Hopefully it can be achieved before I am declared bankrupt.
Probably getting somewhat ahead of myself I have started dreaming about changing the colour that she is painted. She is currently blanc carrare, a very pale mint green which, if I'm honest, I don't really like. It is colour code AC144 and is her original colour which is heartening at least. But my favourite colour is bleu d'orient (AC616) and this colour was also available from the factory in 1965 with the red interior trim. So I don't think it will be at all sacrilegious to change it once all the mechanical gremlins have been banished.
So this is the backstory. Wish me luck with the transportation, evaluation and eventual restoration that is to come.
Back around July 2009 I suddenly became obsessed with the idea of buying a DS. I have always loved them of course because of the fabulous ahead-of-it's-time styling and innovative technology, but mostly I just loved the fact that they went up and down on hydraulic suspension. That's me, a sucker for anything with unnecessary moving parts...
Anyway, after a short but frenzied search of the internet and incessant boring of my friends and co-workers I happened upon what appeared to be just what I was looking for. I had been searching for a 1967 DS Pallas but unfortunately this is the model everybody wants as it incorporates all the most desirable features - the old nose, the second dashboard, and the reliable 'green' hydraulic system as opposed to the older problematic 'red' hydraulic system. I was forced to compromise and, being me, I compromised on the hydraulics so I could still have the "look" I wanted. A 1965 DS with the old nose, the second dashboard and the older problematic 'red' hydraulic system was duly purchased from an old guy in the Netherlands.
Now this car really did look to be in perfect condition. It's bodywork is in great shape, the chrome has barely any marks and the interior was excellent. It had been recently restored so there was no rust and according to the vendor it ran smoothly. Unfortunately, because he had imported it from Belgium to the Netherlands and never registered it I was unable to take it for a proper drive other than around his paddock. But, again, he assured me it was in great working order. So I agreed a purchase price of 8500€ (far too much in retrospect), loaded the DS on a trailer and towed it back to Belgium feeling very pleased with myself. I was living my dream and I decided to name her Brigitte.
Below are some pictures of Brigitte as she was when I collected her:
Unfortunately, shortly after I had her home and before I had had a chance to register her in Belgium a worrying pool of red hydraulic fluid began to pool beneath her. She had, as far as I could tell, 3 separate leaks. I enlisted the help of a local DS specialist who came and had a look and proceeded to tell me that yes, she was in fact leaking hydraulic fluid and that is not a good thing. She also has rust in all the doors that I hadn't spotted and the wiring appears dodgy. Great. So anyway, he said he could fix it so I arranged to drive it to his workshop about 20kms away ignoring the fact it was neither registered nor insured - I was desperate.
After several aborted attempts due to the battery going flat I managed to get her going and out of the underground carpark (which I'm sure pleased my BMW a lot as it had been parked on the street while this upstart stole it's carpark). The DS drove reasonably well most of the way until, as I was nearing my destination, it started to fail and try as I might I couldn't keep it running at a stop light. She died. I called my friend and he came and towed her the remaining couple of kilometers to his workshop. Bear in mind that this had to be done quickly before the pressure left the hydraulics and she sank down on her haunches rendering her immobile. What had I gotten myself into?
The stalling problem was traced to the electrical system and my friend performed a number of repairs as well as fixing some of the leaks in the hydraulics (not all of them as it turned out later). My next task was to take her to the Belgian equivalent of the DMV for registration. Here it is possible to register an oldtimer on a special O plate for limited use which involves little or no checking of the cars road-worthiness. I still failed. We were unable to find the VIN which is, unfortunately, still necessary. Having failed the registration I began the drive back to my work where I could at least store her until I worked out my next move. We didn't make it. I found myself in a cloud of smoke on the side of the motorway again wondering what the hell I had done.
This time, because my friend told me he had no further time to devote to this cause, I had the DS towed to the nearest Citroen garage thinking that they at least would be able to diagnose the problem and maybe fix it. Confidence was not inspired when they rang me later asking how to start the car. All automatic DS's are started in the same way by pushing the gear lever to the left, definitely a trap for newcomers but they are a Citroen garage! Anyway, they got her going and took her for a drive after which they called me to inform me that the engine seemed fine but whilst on the test drive they broke a driveshaft... Sigh...
At this point I began to despair (more) and entered avoidance mode. The garage apparently did too as they never called me to let me know which part I had to buy so I just let it sit there... for nine months. During which time we had the worst winter in 30 years with much snow and ice. I'm scared to see what condition she is now in.
Anyway, to the present. Summer has arrived in Belgium and I began to feel inspired and resolved to do something about Brigitte. I knew I couldn't really sell her in her current condition so I should bite the bullet and restore her, regardless of what it was going to cost me. Upon recommendation from a Citroen forum I have found a restorer in Zeeland, the Netherlands who is coming this afternoon with a truck to collect her. He is going to make a plan (I like the sound of that - it sounds efficient) and then we will determine what the restoration process should be. Hopefully it can be achieved before I am declared bankrupt.
Probably getting somewhat ahead of myself I have started dreaming about changing the colour that she is painted. She is currently blanc carrare, a very pale mint green which, if I'm honest, I don't really like. It is colour code AC144 and is her original colour which is heartening at least. But my favourite colour is bleu d'orient (AC616) and this colour was also available from the factory in 1965 with the red interior trim. So I don't think it will be at all sacrilegious to change it once all the mechanical gremlins have been banished.
So this is the backstory. Wish me luck with the transportation, evaluation and eventual restoration that is to come.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Rotterdam
Waiting at gate to board my flight to Barcelona. Very grateful for aforementioned healthy time buffer as traffic round Rotterdam was appalling. Was starting to sweat but made it in good time. Amused to discover that Rotterdam Airport could more accurately be described as a shed in a paddock. I’m waiting at gate 8 of 8 and gate 1 is only about 15 metres away. They even share doors to the tarmac! Reminds me of Palmerston North airport.
My plane is waiting so hopefully we leave on time. I was going to attach picture but not sure if that is possible from iPhone app. So if u find a picture, it is. If you don’t, it isn’t.
Next blog from Barcelona!
North African Solar Power Generation
I’ve just read an article on electricity generation via solar power in North Africa here. Apparently the Moroccan government has pledged to generate 40% of their electricity from solar energy by 2020. And they even have a realistic plan and funding from the World Bank, the European Commission, Germany (the world’s foremost solar electricity generator) and Desertec, a coalition of energy companies. Also in Morocco’s favour is the fact that they are one of the sunniest countries in the world with over 3000 sunshine hours per year.
Sure it’s going to cost them around $9 billion to achieve this lofty goal but even at that price it is an easy decision in my opinion. Morocco does not have any oil reserves so they are, like most countries, beholden unto the Arab states from which most of the world’s oil is produced. So this project will give them energy security as well as significantly improving their environmental credentials and, given the low running costs of a solar plant after the initial investment, long-term economic benefits as well.
But this is not the main reason for my interest in this story. Although Morocco has a large population approaching 32 million people and thus a huge energy demand with all its associated environmental impacts, they are insignificant next to the 730 million people in Europe just across the Mediterranean. And this is where the real economic opportunity lies for Morocco and their North African neighbours Algeria, Tunisia, Libya and perhaps even Egypt. The consistent sunshine hours, large open desert spaces, and proximity to Europe make the installation of large (by which I mean enormous) solar installations connected to the European grid an obvious solution. It is only 14 km across the Strait of Gibraltar at its narrowest point so a cable is no problem. Indeed this is not a new idea and planning is already under way for just such a project. Desertec is one of the parties involved and I recommend following their updates on Twitter or Facebook. The hope is to provide 17% of Europe’s total electricity needs from North African & Middle East solar by 2050.
The question is really, why is it taking so long? And why is this concept not being implemented everywhere that there is desert in close proximity to large population areas? There were plans drawn up for an enormous solar turbine plant outside of Melbourne, Australia some years ago but the project was cancelled. Such plants could easily supply all the cities in Australia due to the proximity of the desert and the high sunshine hours. It’s not like they are lacking in space to put them! It’s purely a lack of commitment and political will to make it happen, in Australia and other countries. Assuming that the Moroccan government manage to execute their plans in the timeframe they have indicated, countries like Australia should watch and learn.
To get the ball rolling...
First post, what to say? Well, despite the fact that this blog is going to be primarily about all things urban and of the city, I’m going to write about my weekend in the tiny French village of Montreuil-Sur-Mer. I’m contrary like that.
My good friend Caroline from Wellington is visiting London and upon learning that she and her brother and his family were going to be spending the Easter weekend only 271km or 2.5 Google Map hours away from Antwerp, I decided to go and visit. So, bright and early on Saturday morning, having filled and washed my car the night before, I set off from Antwerp, destination picturesque French coastal village.
Naturally, being the weekend, it rained and after several hundred motorway kilometres my car cleaning efforts had been thoroughly thwarted. Oh well, I still enjoyed the relatively light traffic and high speed limits of France, not to mention the fact that they clearly signpost all upcoming speed cameras. Very sporting of them.
I arrived in M-S-M around 10:30am as scheduled and after some minor confusion involving tiny cobbled 1-way streets and street numbering that bore no resemblance to the reality that the lady in my satellite navigation system inhabits I located the Gites where my friends were staying. Tres bien.
First order of the day was to head to the market and purchase food for dinner and the next few days. Being only 400 metres away, it didn’t take long to get there on foot and we were soon browsing the most beautifully presented fruit, vegetables and produce I had every seen in a farmers’ market. One stall-keeper was selling gorgeous, fluffy live rabbits and (in a ‘here’s one we prepared earlier moment’) ready for the oven, not-quite-so-live versions… Caroline was unimpressed at being exposed so explicitly to the harsh reality of where the chief ingredient in Lapin a La Cocotte (French Rabbit Stew) actually came from. Nonetheless we were soon well stocked with cheeses, vegetables, racks of lamb and a delicious tray of bright red strawberries.As Sarah was feeling slightly under the weather, Caroline, Edward & myself headed out for lunch at Le Darnétal, a fairly traditional French country restaurant. Caroline has blogged about this here so I will say no more other than that it was delicious and I was stuffed. Following lunch we wandered a little further to a rather impressive wine shop of which Edward was a member to purchase some wine, one of which was a 2007 Maison Dieu Bourgogne Pinot Noir for that evening to compare with the rather special bottle I had brought with me. More on that later.
It had begun to pour whilst we were perusing the vintages so we hurried back to the cottage. We spent the afternoon in conversation and were, at some point, even able to sit out in the courtyard when some sunshine broke through.
Caroline was chef for the evening so wine, cheese and sausage ensued to tide us over until dinner. I personally found the sausage (a variety of flavours – purchased at the market) rather chewy, fatty and not-particularly tasty but the cheese was magnificent. We began the evening’s drinking with the French pinot noir, very quaffable but not particularly meaty. A little sharp to begin with, it certainly mellowed once it had been open a while. But I found it lacking in depth and character. This was highlighted further when we moved on to the second wine which I had brought (maybe I’m just biased) which was a 2005 Dry River Pinot Noir from the Martinborough region of New Zealand. This was a much more complex and meaty wine, both in colour and taste. I’d been staring at it in my wine collection for nearly 5 years so it was a great relief that it turned out to be fantastic.
Dinner was rack of lamb and roast vegetables followed by the aforementioned strawberries for dessert and yet more wine. Delicious.
I had booked myself a cheap room in a hotel nearby. The hotel itself was fine albeit very basic and my room was quite large. Oddly, and I’m upset I didn’t take a photo of this, it had a completely space-age shower unit which had been wedged into the tiniest bathroom you’ve ever seen. Tiny to the extent that, in order to open the shower door, one had first to open the bathroom door as it was in the way. The shower unit (finished in faux graphite and carbon fibre by the looks of it) had a rain shower from above, a regular nozzle on a hose, and 6(!) massaging nozzles in the wall. This would have all been fabulous were it not for the fact that there wasn’t even close to being enough pressure to run more than 1 nozzle at a time and the massaging nozzles produced nothing more than a luke warm dribble down the wall. The absurdity of it all…
Anyway, the room was quiet… right up until the point when the people in the next room got home about 12:30 (4 of them by the sounds of it) and proceeded to party loudly until around 2:30 by which point I was so enraged I couldn’t sleep anyway. I spent the next few hours plotting my revenge which essentially consisted of waking them up at an ungodly hour early on the Sunday morning. Simple but effective. Imagine my disbelief when they began crashing around noisily at 6am anyway. Had I actually managed to fall asleep I would have been woken up again! Then I would have … [censored]
As I mentioned, the hotel was cheap… thank Christ. Despite my lack of sleep I was feeling relatively intact and I meandered back to the Gites around 9:30am looking forward to a very French breakfast. Caroline did not disappoint with croissants, pain-au-chocolat, scrambled eggs and coffee. C’est magnifique! Suitably refuelled I elected to head back to Antwerp and so bid my adieus. Satellite navigation lady was able to find her way flawlessly back to the motorway and I was back in Antwerp not long after lunch.
An enjoyable weekend.
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