A day by the seaside, Albanian style

Whilst Albania isn't exactly a big place - just over two hundred miles from north to south and less than one hundred from east to west - it isn't entirely easy to get around. There are, theoretically, at least, trains, but once you leave the major highways, the road system is sub-optimal and the mountainous terrain means that straight lines are few and far between. But Tirana is pretty central and there is a shiny new highway linking it to Durres, the country's main port and access point for ferries from Italy. It's also a city with a history dating back to to the 7th Century B.C.

Sunday dawned bright, sunny and mild, so why not go to the seaside for the day? Now, normally, this would involve me scouring the internet for public transport options but, frankly, there's little in the way of readily available information, time was short given that the sun would set at 4 p.m. and taxis are quite reasonable, we organised a taxi to take us to the seaside. Admittedly, I hadn't given any thought as to how we might get back but...

And for approximately £25, we were whisked to the promenade overlooking the Adriatic Sea. The sun was shining, and myriad Albanian families were out enjoying themselves. Not in the water, or on the beach, because the water wasn't that inviting and what beaches there are are somewhere else, but there's a swish hotel nearing completion (a Crowne Plaza for those interested in such things) and a sense that more visitors would be welcome.

There are plenty of reasonably priced fish restaurants and coffee shops, and it was nice to idly stroll along the shore.

Durres is also famous for something that wasn't rediscovered until the 1960s, its Roman amphitheatre, thought to be the largest every built in the Balkans and capable of holding 15,000 enthusiastic citizens for gladiator fights and the like. It is open to the public but it would be fair to say that it hasn't been developed to the extent that a similar attraction elsewhere might be. What that means is that there isn't much in the way of signage, access is a bit treacherous but it is cheap to visit.

You'll also notice that it has been encroached upon somewhat, the disadvantage of having nobody appreciate that it was there. And maybe, at some point, someone will remedy that but in the meantime, it's still pretty impressive.

By now we were in need of sustenance though. Fortunately, like so many Southern European countries, there's always a readily available sweet treat, and we were able to find a café which served good coffee and an even better piece of cake. Mmmmm... cake...

But it was time to head back to the capital. I had booked a table for dinner...

A gentle stroll in the Three Cities...

Malta is, perhaps surprisingly, a very densely populated place, with a higher population density than Bangladesh. And, when you arrive here, it is much less surprising, as Valletta is ringed by communities that climb the slopes around the capital, coat the surrounding peninsulas and cluster wherever building is even remotely possible.

We were meeting a historian friend of Ros, and his partner, who have been staying here for the past six months, and had offered to show us Valletta. And so, we caught another bus which hurtled along, around the Sliema peninsula and through Floriana to the Valletta bus station, which stands outside the city gates, next to the Triton Fountain.

United with our hosts, we set off to examine Valletta on foot, only to get a bit distracted by the view across the water to the south-east. That led us down a elevator to the shoreline and a small water taxi which took us to Birgu, which occupies a finger-like peninsula which protrudes into the Grand Harbour.

Refreshment was required, so we sat at a cafe in Victory Square, in the St Lawrence district, as something of Maltese life was explained to us. Each community has its own Saint, and there is a political edge to much of community life, with bands and fireworks and a bit of occasional ruckus. Our cafe was the Labour cafe, as opposed to the Nationalist one, although, as an outsider, I wasn’t overly aware of any political aspect.

The Maltese love their fireworks, to the extent of manufacturing their own at home, with the occasional unplanned explosion adding to the general buzz of urban life. Indeed, they don’t wait for darkness, as we were entertained by a firework launch at noon. I suspect we haven’t heard our last firework...

We walked along the shore, stopping for lunch and talk of Brexit, enjoying the opportunity to eat outside in December. The problem is that, the more you talk about it, the less rational it sounds, and you find yourself wondering if Britain hasn’t suffered a collective mental collapse. But I digress...

We resumed our stroll, crossing into Senglea, developed by the Order of Saint John in the sixteenth century. Senglea is another peninsula, and is all narrow streets and alleyways, designed I suspect to keep the streets shady during the hot summers, and to allow greater density. The architecture is interesting, and one of the main features is the gallarija, an enclosed shallow balcony with glass windows, painted in a different colour to the rest of the frontage.

Coffee and cake was required by this time, as the sun began to set in the south-west, and it was, sadly, soon time to head back to San Giljan, catching a bus from outside the police station. Malta has adopted a two hour ticket, allowing you to transfer as necessary to get to your destination, which puts London’s recent introduction of a similar idea into perspective. And that allowed us to transfer through Valletta, making an easy connection to the San Giljan bus and getting us back to our hotel for some refreshment and a relatively early night...

#busride - a detour to the 'Ship of the Fens'

I admit it, I'm rather fond of Ely Cathedral. It dominates the town and can be seen from miles, thanks to the fact that it's on the only piece of (relatively) high ground between Cambridge and The Wash. It appears to pin the town to the ground like a captured moth in someone's collection.

And so, with about twenty-five minutes to kill, it was time to head to cut across High Street, through an archway and into the cathedral grounds. Sadly, there wasn't time to get inside, but it seemed appropriate to take a photo or two for the blog.

I had forgotten that the cathedral isn't actually complete, as the Southeast transept collapsed in the eighteenth century and was never replaced. Curious, really, but I guess that there weren't the funds to do so.

But it was time to leave, I had one last ride before sunset...

Is there anyone who can spare the odd quarter of a million for the church roof?

I may have mentioned in the past that, whilst Suffolk doesn’t have the most exciting landscape, what we do have is built environment, in particular some of the finest medieval churches in the country. The only problem with that is that they do need rather a lot of care and attention.

St John the Baptist Parish Church in Needham Market is just one of many fine churches, but I have a particular interest as they are currently attempting to raise rather a lot of money to repair the leaky roof. Sadly, it is not simply a case of repairing and replacing tiles.

Stunning late C15 roof, St John the Baptist, Needham Market. From new Pevsner #Suffolk: West http://t.co/Z5MyHg4ChR pic.twitter.com/tAsbejorKl

— Pevsner Guides (@YalePevsner) April 16, 2015

Built in the second half of the fifteenth century as a mere chapel of ease to the then primary parish church at nearby Barking, it has a double hammerbeam roof, in which the need for cross-beams is obviated by the support of the roof's thrust on hammers along the north and south nave walls. Henry Munro Cautley, who was the Diocesan architect for St Edmundsbury and who published “Suffolk Churches and their Treasures” in the 1930s, thought it had no equal in all of England, whilst the perhaps more famous Sir Nikolaus Pevsner concluded,

The roof had to be described in detail to make everyone appreciate what the significance of Needham Market is.

He noted that it was described by Crossley as “the climax of English roof construction” and by Cautley (again) as “the culminating achievement of the English carpenter”.

Unfortunately, five hundred years of age and neglect – the roof was hidden behind a false ceiling in the eighteenth century and only uncovered again in the late nineteenth century – have taken a toll. Wet rot has been discovered and, worse still, deathwatch beetles are slowly munching their way through the timbers. As a resident of a house with timbers of a similar age, I know just how bad that can be.

But, I hear you ask, why the interest? Well, a fundraising campaign has been set up and Ros has been asked to be its Patron, something she was more than happy to do. The campaign is formally launched this evening, so I’ll be there in my consort role. And, if you happen to know anyone with a lot of money and an interest in medieval church architecture, do pass them in my direction, won’t you?

A report from the deep end

Gosh, when it rains here, it really means it.

For the second successive day, my sightseeing has been ended by the onset of a violent electrical storm and an attempt by the Mekong to reclaim these parts from the air. So I've retreated to the hotel for a workout followed by massage (no sniggering at the back, a real spa massage...).

Unfortunately, the Reunification Palace was closed today, due to the APEC (Asia Pacific

Economic Co-operation) meeting taking place here, with the Americans in attendance. I did get to the War Remnants Museum, which is quite dramatic.

Ho Chi Minh City also has an excellent post office (very French influenced) and quite a nice cathedral.

Must dash now though, next report will be from Seoul (probably)!