Dream Chasers

Puerto Pollensa, Mallorca

I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from northern Cyprus, but our time there exceeded anything I might have imagined. We’ve appreciated the remoteness of our location, which offered a peaceful and unhurried way of life. While the amenities were modest, they were more than enough for us. There was one good supermarket, which had the bonus of an excellent coffee shop inside, serving freshly ground Arabica coffee—a welcome morning ritual for me (though I’ll admit I’m not brave enough to tackle Turkish coffee!).

Nearby, there was a small port with a handful of restaurants and our little beach, which became part of our morning routine. Swimming in the calm, clear seas at the start of each day was both refreshing and meditative, especially on the many still, sunny mornings.

For me, though, the highlight of our stay was a small and incredibly friendly dog who greeted us warmly every single morning. No matter the time of day, his enthusiasm was infectious and heartwarming. We also noticed quite a few stray cats and dogs around the area. “Stray” seems like the wrong term, though—“free” feels more accurate. These animals were all friendly, healthy-looking, and clearly respected by the community. Locals seemed to take a shared responsibility for feeding and watering them, and it was common to see cats and dogs lounging in front of the supermarket, stretched out under the AC on particularly hot days. There was a certain charm to this collective kindness that added to the character of the place.

Our time in northern Cyprus had come to an end, and the day of our departure began with a taxi ride to Larnaca airport. The journey was a bit unpredictable, as the time it took could vary anywhere from one to two hours, depending on the border crossing between the Turkish and Greek sides. My own trip on the way in had taken just over an hour, but Rachel and Mum’s had taken closer to two.

Our driver—a spirited woman who didn’t shy away from the accelerator—got us to the border in about 50 minutes. However, the crossing itself took a little longer than anticipated. We discovered we’d unknowingly overstayed our 30-day visa. After a brief and good-natured conversation with the border official, we were told that we’d be fined if we re-entered northern Cyprus within the next year. With that resolved, we were back on the road and reached Larnaca airport about 15 minutes later.

At the airport, we checked in our luggage for the journey to Palma and boarded our first flight to Cologne. It was a packed flight—what I jokingly dubbed the “Noah’s Ark of the skies,” as there were two dogs and two cats onboard. My usual trick of booking the window and aisle seats to leave the middle seat empty failed spectacularly this time, as the flight was completely full. For the next four hours, Rachel and I sat as bookends to a rather large German gentleman who, while pleasant enough, wasn’t quite the legroom solution we’d hoped for.

After a quick transit through Cologne airport, we boarded the short second flight to Palma de Mallorca. This leg was much quicker, taking just an hour and a half. Upon landing, we retrieved our luggage, picked up our friends car, and set off on a nighttime drive to Puerto Pollensa, a charming coastal town in the north of the island.

The drive took about 45 minutes through the dark, winding roads of Mallorca, but the anticipation of the next chapter in Puerto Pollensa kept us energized. We’d be calling this beautiful part of the world home for the next six weeks, and we were looking forward to settling into a new rhythm in Mallorca.

Puerto Pollensa – Mallorca

The Salamis Ruins and Kantara Castle

After a relaxed morning, including some light exploring and a memorable lunch at a charming French restaurant near the small port (Bogaz Harbour) by our apartment, we decided to spend the late afternoon at the “Salamis Ruins”, just 20 minutes from where we’re staying. Renowned for some sunsets across the ruins. We arrived with high expectations—and as my iPhone couldn’t quite do the view justice, we had to chalk it up as “one for the eyes.” A few thousand years ago, Salamis was the thriving capital of Cyprus, established around 1100 BC. It withstood invasions by the Assyrians, Egyptians, Persians, and Romans, but eventually fell victim to natural disasters.

The archaeological site spans roughly a square mile, though much remains unexcavated, with some parts now claimed by the Mediterranean. As a fan of ancient history, I couldn’t help but let my imagination roam as we explored. Sitting on the top tier of the Roman theatre, which once held 15,000 spectators, I let my imagination loose into the past. These ruins offer not just history, but also a serene atmosphere for reflection, we really enjoy these ancient sites.

The following day took us to the “Kantara Castle”, the second of the three castles we planned to visit. The journey to Kantara began at sea level and slowly transitioned into a winding ascent through the Kyrenian Mountains. The higher we climbed, the narrower the road became, twisting around blind bends and promising spectacular views the closer we got to the castle. After about 50 minutes, we reached the foot of this imposing structure, standing vigil over the landscape with promises of even more breathtaking vistas from the top.

Kantara Castle’s history dates back to 1191, when Richard the Lionheart seized it from Isaak Komnenos, the Byzantine ruler of Cyprus. It remained a critical stronghold until the 16th century when the Venetian military shifted focus from high vantage points to artillery-based defenses. The climb to the summit took us about 25 minutes, with plenty of stunning stops to take in the panoramic views along the way.

The castle itself was remarkably intact, with most of its walls still standing and one and a half towers still prominent. Despite its primary function as a fortress, there were also fascinating remnants of rooms and spaces that hinted at life within its walls. Perhaps the most unique aspect of Kantara was the ability to walk the entire perimeter, offering unparalleled views of the island’s two coastlines. A great weekend.

A monastery, donkeys and a beautiful beach

After a wonderful two weeks with Mum, culminating in a birthday celebration the night before her departure, we faced the choice of exploring Nicosia, Cyprus’s capital, or heading north to the remote Karpaz Peninsula to visit the Karpaz National Park and its famed “Donkey Sanctuary.” Having visited many cities on our travels, but not many donkey sanctuaries, we opted for the latter and set off toward the northernmost point of the island, excited for the scenic coastal drive ahead.

Our route allowed for a stop at the Monastery of Apostolos Andreas, a legendary site with spiritual significance. According to local lore, Saint Andreas caused a miraculous spring to emerge, and its waters were said to cure blindness. This “holy well” still flows in the crypt beneath the church, and was once known as the “Lourdes of Cyprus.” Revered by both Greek and Turkish Cypriots, many pilgrims come to collect its water. Walking around the old monastery, there was a distinct aura, almost as though the place held centuries of quiet reverence—a sentiment that Rach, in particular, felt deeply.

From there, we continued north on less-traveled roads. With the rough terrain threatening our tires, Rachel wisely suggested a slower pace. As we neared the Karpaz National Park, we were greeted by donkeys, who had mastered a playful “toll” system. Standing firmly in the middle of the road, these clever animals made it clear they wouldn’t move without a bribe—usually in the form of food. Prepared for their antics, we had stocked up on a large bag of carrots, steering clear of any junk food (not on my watch!). At first, Rach was a bit hesitant as the donkeys weren’t shy, but soon we both were charmed by their personalities. The donkeys looked strong and healthy, roaming freely in large numbers. Known for their resilience, the Cypriot donkey—a smaller, sturdy breed—was introduced to the island around 4,000 years ago and was a mainstay in agriculture until Turkish rule.

After our time with these lovable animals, we turned back and decided to visit Golden Beach. This two-mile stretch of untouched, beautiful sand was the perfect end to our day. With the soft sound of the waves and the tranquility of the remote beach, we reflected on the day as we strolled up and down the shore, feeling grateful for another unique experience on this island.

Famagusta and Bella Pais

The three of us set off toward Famagusta—known as Gazimagusa to the Turks—with the aim of visiting the part of the city that was abandoned 50 years ago and only recently reopened to the public. In 1974, after a failed Greek coup, the Turkish army invaded Cyprus under the pretext of restoring order, advancing from the north to the south. With advanced warning, around 40,000 people fled the city, leaving behind homes and businesses in what had been a prosperous area. The Turkish forces took control of Famagusta, establishing the division between the Greek and Turkish parts of Cyprus that still exists today, even though this division is not officially recognized outside of Turkey.

After a half-hour drive, we followed a few cars into a large parking area. From there, we joined small groups of people heading toward what turned out to be the entry point into the abandoned city. Even though it was late morning and the sun was shining in full 30-degree heat, there was something undeniably eerie about the place as we walked. A military presence still lingers, albeit somewhat discreet. Visitors are only allowed to walk along the streets and pavements, with no access to the buildings themselves. Cars, except for the occasional military vehicle, are also forbidden.

Walking through the ghost town, it’s hard to imagine what it must have been like for those who had to leave everything behind, knowing they would never return. The decaying buildings, overtaken by nature, stand as silent witnesses to a once-thriving city. As we continued to explore, remnants of the past were everywhere. Old signs promoting familiar brands from the 60s and 70s, some of which are still in existence today, gave us a glimpse into how life might have been back then. We even made our way to the famous stretch of beach that, in its heyday, attracted the rich and famous.

Despite the somber history, it was a fascinating experience. There’s something both haunting and captivating about walking through a place frozen in time, and it’s hard not to feel the weight of the tragedy that befell the people of Famagusta.

Later, we explored some of the old parts of Famagusta itself, with its fortified walls encircling the port and ancient religious buildings that have stood the test of time. From there, we ventured about 6 km outside of Kyrenia to Bella Pais, a charming little village with the ruins of a medieval 14th-century abbey. The abbey, set amid impressive gardens, was well worth a visit, and we took our time wandering through its historic grounds. Afterward, we found a local spot to eat. It wasn’t the restaurant we had originally hoped for, but the food was delicious, and the hospitality made it a lovely end to the day.

A birthday celebration and a castle

Rachel’s sister, Ruth, and her partner, Terry, were staying in Kyrenia for a few days to celebrate her birthday. We had arranged to meet them for lunch and spend the day together. The three of us got into the car and set off northwest. The roads in this part of Cyprus aren’t too complicated—relatively straight, as there aren’t many main roads—and our route took us across the Kyrenian mountains from east to west. Traffic was light for most of the drive, but as we neared Kyrenia, the landscape shifted. The influence of tourism was apparent with glitzy hotels lining the coastline, and the towns bustled with tourists.

We arrived at the restaurant situated right on the water’s edge, where Ruth and Terry were waiting for us. Since we don’t often get the chance to see family and friends while traveling, it was especially nice to catch up with them. Terry, being from northern Cyprus, knew exactly what to order and took great pleasure in introducing Mum to some classic Turkish dishes. It was her first experience with the cuisine, and she loved it.

After lunch, we took a walk around the newer part of Kyrenia, where shops are mostly filled with souvenirs and fake luxury goods. Mum picked up a few gifts for friends before we decided to explore the old port. The vibe there was much more relaxed, and we found a cozy spot to settle in for the evening. It turned into a really enjoyable and fun night of conversation and laughter.

The following day, we set off on another adventure, this time with Mum leading the charge. She’s as curious and adventurous as we are, so we all headed back toward the Kyrenian mountains in search of St. Hilarion Castle. As we drove up, the castle, hidden among the mountains, suddenly came into view—a breathtaking sight. The castle is steeped in myth and legend. It’s said to be named after a hermit monk who lived there, with its origins dating back to the 11th century when the Byzantines fortified it. The Lusignans later developed the site, using it as a summer residence. It’s said that St. Hilarion Castle even inspired Walt Disney’s “Sleeping Beauty” castle.

To reach the top of the castle, it’s a climb of about 500 steps. When we arrived, the man at the admission booth suggested that Mum might want to stop halfway, assuming it would be too much for her. Little did he know, though—Mum’s Swiss, and as soon as she sees a mountain, she turns into a mountain goat! She was determined to make it all the way up, and she did, taking on the steep climb with ease.

As we wound our way up, the views became more and more spectacular, with panoramic vistas stretching on both sides. Walking through the ancient ruins, you could really feel how impressive this castle must have been in its heyday. The day turned into a fantastic adventure—full of history, beautiful scenery, and great company.

Iskele, Northern Cyprus

After piling the cases into the back of Gerry’s car, who again was incredibly generous with his friendship and time, the three of us left the house around 7 AM, heading to the airport for our flight to Larnaca (about 5 hours from the UK). The weather in the UK had turned noticeably cooler, with heavy rain causing extensive flooding throughout across Cambridgeshire and beyond. Despite the beautiful morning, the drive took about an hour and a half due to having to take an indirect route.

As we unloaded the four cases outside the airport, it suddenly dawned on me that we should have had two hard-shell suitcases and three cabin bags. I realized I’d forgotten to load my own cabin bag, being so used to our usual two large and two small cases, well that’s the story I’m running with. But I’ll be honest and declare that I have previous form for missing flights, but given our three years of travel, it seemed almost inevitable that something like this would eventually happen. Leaving them in shock, I said goodbye to Rach and Mum and wished them “Bon Voyage,” promising to catch up with them as soon as I could.

I headed back to Hartford with Gerry, considering my options. I quickly realized that I’d need to buy a new ticket, as my so-called “flexible” ticket wasn’t quite as flexible as I’d hoped. Completely my fault, of course. Fortunately, I managed to secure a seat on the same flight leaving the following morning—one of the last available, as many passengers from canceled Tel Aviv flights were now being rerouted via Larnaca to reach Israel.

The flight itself was fairly painless, landing just before 5 PM local time. After collecting my luggage, I walked through arrivals to find the driver that Rachel had kindly organized waiting for me. I’d considered hiring a car, but learned that cars rented on the Greek (EU) side of Cyprus cannot be driven into the Turkish side and vice-versa. There are some exceptions, but it wasn’t worth the hassle. So, we drove through the Greek side and approached the border near Famagusta, a strip of land where Greek Cypriots were forced to flee during the Turkish invasion of Cyprus in 1974. The country became divided, and Famagusta came under Turkish control, with the town remaining closed to the public until last year.

Crossing the border was a bit surreal. For me, it was just a quick wave at a lady in a kiosk. For my driver, however, it meant more effort—he had to take my passport into the passport office, place the “Taksi” sign back on the roof of his car, and remove the tape he had used to mask his number plate whilst on the Greek side.

We arrived at the apartment just as the sun was setting. Rachel and Mum were pleased to see me, and I, of course, apologized again for being an idiot. We enjoyed a tasty dinner while catching up, then retired for some much-needed sleep. Mum had chosen this remote location facing the Mediterranean Sea, with agricultural land and a beautiful mosque nestled beneath a stretch of mountains behind us, it also has a wrap around terrace. With the warm weather, peaceful surroundings and a good place to swim it seems like a good place to start this leg of our travels.

https://www.airbnb.com/slink/pfXjl6yT

Our small apartment

Essex and Suffolk

We left early Friday afternoon and headed southeast towards Braintree, but arranged a rendezvous with Christien in Saffron Walden along the way. He and some friends had Airbnb’d a barn for the weekend, and since we’re headed off next week, a late lunch and good catch-up were definitely in order. It was my first time in Saffron Walden, a picturesque, medieval town in northwest Essex, just 15 miles south of Cambridge for those, like me, who hadn’t been before.

We arrived in Braintree late afternoon and spent the evening catching up with Jon & Jo. The following morning, bathed in late September sunshine, we took Ozzie for a good walk along the Fitch, a repurposed railway track, and across some fields. Afterward, we decided to spend the afternoon in Suffolk, a region we hadn’t explored much before. Specifically, we wandered around Lavenham, one of the most important and best-preserved medieval villages in England.

That evening, we made our way to El Pulpo, a Spanish tapas restaurant the girls had been keen to visit. The food was okay, but the atmosphere was lively. Ozzie was eager for another walk the next morning, so after a quick breakfast, we found ourselves walking through another wooded area, with Oz happily leading the way.

Back in Hartford, with September coming to a close, the weather was turning cooler and wetter, unmistakably signaling that it was time to move on. It felt like the perfect time to seek out new surroundings and follow the sun to our next destination.

A week in Cobham, with a trip to the theatre

With Mum back in fighting shape, the three of us headed down to Cobham to look after Rhubarb for the week, which is always a huge pleasure. We arrived late Sunday afternoon, and after giving Rhubarb a good cuddle—unfortunately, he’s lost most of his sight and hearing, but his nose is still good and he’s as gentle as ever. We also looked forward to catching up with Joel and hearing all about what he’s been up to.

The following day, after stretching and lifting some weights in the gym, while Rachel put Mum through her paces in the yoga studio, which Mum apparently really enjoyed the girls made their way to the jacuzzi. Meanwhile, I faced the ice barrel set at a barmy 8 degrees, with the option to slide it down to 4 degrees. Not a chance. On my first attempt, I think I managed about a minute before rushing off to find a warm shower. After throwing on some clothes and Rachel and Mum tearing themselves away from the Jacuzzi, we helped Rhubarb into his special car, and off we went to the woodland behind the golf course for the old chap to saunter through the forest. He used to be able to go for hours, but these days a good 45 minutes is fine.

That was pretty much the morning routine every day for the week. I also found Keith’s gloves and rediscovered the power of meditation, managing just under 9 minutes and really enjoyed the euphoric feeling during the experience. Mum and I went into Guildford to meet friends, and I popped into Crowthorne to visit an old friend. Christien stopped by one evening after golf, and together with Joel, we all had dinner, which was great fun.

We all enjoy the theatre, so we decided to make a day of it on Saturday. We drove 25 minutes to Morden before jumping on the Northern Line to Covent Garden. After spending a couple of hours wandering around, we headed to the St. Martin’s Lane Theatre to watch the longest-running production (72 years) and entered our matinee for the 29,451st production of Agatha Christie’s “The Mousetrap,” which we all really enjoyed. There’s nothing quite like a live performance. We then went to a lively restaurant for Mum’s first experience with Vietnamese food and chopsticks. She enjoyed the food, but the chopsticks, not so much. Before jumping back on the tube, the two ladies in my life insisted on stopping at the gelato shop apparently it was a must. Interestingly for me, it was directly across from Stringfellows, in infamous nightclub in its day and where I successfully interviewed to start what would be a 14-year career in casinos.

A summer get together in Yorkshire.

We typically meet as a family somewhere in the middle of the country, but with Seb and Ally recently completing their house build and all of the Watsons also in town, Little Fenton in North Yorkshire was the perfect rendezvous. Rachel had spent most of the week at Christien’s in Wokingham, while Mum and I split the week between there and Huntingdon. The plan had been for Mum and I to drive up, but unfortunately, she picked up a virus, so I traveled up alone, while Rachel and Christien made their way up together. Funnily enough, we both literally pulled into Seb’s driveway from different directions at the same time.

After a good catch-up, we took Arlo and Aura for a nice long walk. Aura spent the first half of her life as a house cat in their apartment, never leaving the flat, but since moving she’s always out and even tags along on Arlo’s walks—a cat with an amazing life! Arlo has endless amounts of energy and is always great fun to be around. I’m convinced he’s got a set of springs in his legs as he bounces through the long grass.

Saturday night, we all went out to a fantastic Italian restaurant and then finished off the evening with some night golf. Christien is the golfer among us but was still beaten by his mum, though he took it well.

Sunday, after a quick trip to the garden center, was the day of the big family barbecue, with a real feast put on by Seb and Ally. Although we don’t see the Watsons as often as we’d like, when we get together, it’s always great fun catching up. We had a wonderful evening.

The following day, we headed down to Chris & Lesley’s for a sauna, ice bath and brunch. They’ve been spending quite a bit of time in Sweden these past couple of years and have really embraced the culture. Apparently, wherever you go in Sweden, you’ll always find a sauna, even on some of the remotest islands. Fun fact: Sweden has over 267,000 islands, more than any other country in the world.

Monday was spent helping out the guys in the dental practice, putting together furniture after the refurbishment. On Tuesday, after Rachel had some dental work done, we said our goodbyes and set off back to Hartford.

Mooching around and an eventful journey back to the UK

Things have gotten pretty busy, well, it’s August after all. But since our day starts early and the crowds arrive late morning, we usually manage to avoid the rush. Evenings, however, are bustling. We decided to take a walk out to the Monastery, which some locals claim has both a mystical aura and great energy. At certain times of the year, by invitation only, you can even sleep around the courtyard. It was about a 40-minute walk, with the final 10 minutes winding through a pine canopy down a gentle set of steps. Although we’ve seen far more stunning ecclesiastical buildings, there was definitely something serene and calming as we walked up to the building and wandered around, enjoying serene views across the bay.

Along the coastal walkway, we’ve found a nice restaurant where it’s easy to lose track of time watching the smiling crowds stroll by. While we haven’t done too much here in Herceg Novi, it’s been easy living, and we’ve really enjoyed it. After nearly three months in Montenegro, it’s time for us to leave. When we arrived, Radenko advised that we would need to leave around midday to make our 6 pm return flight. We quickly realized that wasn’t an option, so we arranged through our host to charter a boat. We got to the dock where the boat was waiting, and after loading the luggage on board, we headed out into the bay, navigating some pretty choppy waters, which we weren’t used to. The trip took us back past Donja Lastva and the Port of Montenegro, with many super yachts anchored outside as the port was packed. After about a 30-minute crossing, we pulled alongside the dock, unloaded the luggage, said our goodbyes, and off we went.

Unfortunately, my efforts to secure a cab failed, so we had to walk the 15 minutes from the doc to the terminal, arriving soaked (we’ve agreed to go down to one suitcase next trip; it’s always challenging on move day… I don’t need much anyway 😂). The airport handles as many private flights as commercial ones, so it was busy, but we made it through with about 45 minutes to spare before takeoff. Landing in London, I received a text informing us that our train and all subsequent trains in our direction had been canceled. By the time I got to the car rental agencies, it seemed everyone had had the same idea to get home. Abandoning all hope of reaching Huntingdon that night, we booked a night at the Bloc Hotel in the airport, which despite its small footprint, had been ingeniously designed, spotless, and we never felt cramped.

Early morning Herceg Novi