Travels With a Sausage

Warning: the following post contains gratuitous photos of Frankelton the sausage dog. Gratuitous. 

If you're still reading, you probably know that Paul and I are a little bit obsessed with the sausage dog who has come to rule our home. He may be three kilograms but he reigns supreme. With this in mind, Paul and I planned our annual sit by a fire and wear jumpers during the October holiday with King Frank in mind. 

When it comes to dogs, England makes things both more and less difficult. If you want a domestic holiday, all doors are open. Many hotels and B&Bs are dog friendly; beaches become open-access to animals past the 1st of October; and train travel is free and easy for all dogs, not just service dogs. Pubs are largely dog-friendly and an increasing number of restaurants allow your canine friend in, under the proviso that s/he is well behaved. 

International trips are a different matter entirely. In order to leave the country, an £80 pet passport and a battery of vaccinations are needed. Many English airlines do not allow dogs in the cabin. Some allow dogs out of the country but not back in via the cabin. And although Paris is a two-hour train ride, dogs are forbidden on the Eurostar. Thus, in order to travel with dog at all points, one must drive out of the country (either via tunnel or ferry, and by ferry I mean driving one's car onto the ferry) and return via tunnel or ferry. 

Domestic holiday for the win. Which is how we found ourselves packing for Cornwall, England's southernmost county, home to: pasties; Poldark; Daphne Du Maurier; scones with jam and cream in that order; and some of the country's most stunning Blue Flag beaches. Frank made it very clear that we were not to go without him: 

And so, sausage dog carrying case in tow, we made our way to Paddington for the six-hour train to St. Ives. Perhaps because we started him young, his first journey on the train was when we brought him home from Kent, our hound loves a journey. 

In fairness, he loves being with his people. So we stuffed the sausage between our two-seater where he commenced to pass out for much of the journey.

Upon arrival, he was more than very impressed with the local environs. Our Air BnB, a cozy one-bedroom detached apartment, had a little yard for him to sniff around. And St. Ives' twelve different beaches gave Frank ample space to sniff, run, dig and flirt with the incoming waves. He.loved.it.

Even when he was forced to wear his jumper. And try on fancy bowties in the expensive dog boutique.

Since we took our trip over the English school system's half term holiday, families abounded. Families with their dogs. In fact, the outlying guests were those without their furry friends. And so Frank had hundreds of bums to sniff as we wandered on the beaches, through the narrow lanes and shops and onto the coastal paths and cliff edges.

He even took a little sit down to watch the sunset. It felt like a reminder that we should never, under any circumstances, leave him at home ever again. If only it were as simple as that.

The Yoga Days of Summer

After two day of poolside lizarding in Gouvia, I made my way northward across the great island of Corfu to Almyros Beach and Just Relax Yoga Holidays, my home away from home for the week. The beach is just behind where I'm standing to take this photo:

Only in driving across the island did I realise the vast size of Corfu itself. As it turns out, it's the second biggest of the Ionian islands and the seventh biggest island in Greece. Mountains dot the interior of the island and beaches, both large and brash and secluded and inviting, line the coast. Corfu's also littered with history, of the ancient variety; both Poseidon and Odysseus's backstories have roots in the area and legendary Ithaca is just an island over. 

I didn't expect to learn so much about the island or see as much as I did over the weeklong yoga retreat. The holiday itself sold me on twice-daily yoga classes, daily breakfasts and dinners and a charming beachside location. All of these things it delivered; but beyond this, I also met some warm fellow yogis, several who had cars to whisk the group away on cross-island adventures.

So days started with 8am yoga class, followed by fresh breakfast on the terrace, followed by island wanders, followed by sunset yoga, followed by veggie filled fresh dinners. Our teacher, Melina, a Greek native, also ensured we saw some of the more local spots in the evenings.

The rhythm of days was an easy one to adjust to when the views were essentially spectacular in all directions.

Mid-week we also had one full day off in which our little group of 12 organised a mini-bus to carry us across the island to some of Corfu's natural beauty spots including this stunning monastery up on the hillside:

Our next stop took us to the west coast of the island, to the Grotto Caves and Paradise Beach, a cliff-backed beach only accessible via boat.

 

 The canteen boat!

Our disembarkation point took us La Grotta Bar, a bar-cum-restaurant carved into the cliffside. It was kind of too beautiful to believe:

 Other mid-week trips took us to olive-and-mezze food stops:

 The hike down to the double bays of Agios Georgios to the South and Twin Bay to the North:

 

 

 And finally, on our last night, Just Relax organised yoga on these distant rock formations, something isolated and utterly stunning:

 

 Where you catch the boat:

 The way there:

 Blissed out yoga vibes look good on everyone:

 

 To finish, the retreat, we were whisked away to 7th Heaven Cafe, a mountaintop restaurant definitely worth the view:

 

 After a week of yoga, wandering and vibing, the retreat ended as abruptly as it started. The return to London and a new job was rather intense but I was ready. To anyone questioning whether Corfu is a good Greek Island destination, it is. To anyone considering a yoga retreat, Just Relax is the way to go. Great yoga, great food, great care and attention to the finer points of the island. It totally lives up to the name. 

Day Tripping in Albania

Having booked a day trip through a local Gouvia travel agency, I spent the next day shuffling my way around the port town of Saranda in Albania. Considering I crossed international borders, the paperwork of moving between countries was minimal. Passport control in Greece, a 30-ish minute ferry and a wander onto a coach later, and we made our way to our first stop, drinks and ice cream with a view:

Our tour guide, a young Albanian guy, was keen to know what we knew about his country and was even more keen for us to tell our friends about our experiences there. To be honest, I knew very little other than the fact that, growing up, there seemed to be a lot of Albanian exiles in my little part of middle America. 

And that's got a lot to do with the history of the country. From 1949 until 1991, Albania allied itself under the Soviet Union becoming one of the Communist pieces of the Cold War puzzle. The leaders of Communist Albania, Enver Hoxha followed by Ramiz Alia, as in the fashion of many 'People's Democratic Nations', opted for secrecy and seclusion from the rest of the world. At one point, even Mao Zedong's form of Communism was too liberal for Hoxha's home-grown ideas. People didn't go out and people didn't go in. To its Greek neighbours, the Albanian coastline and mountain ranges were just a distant coastline. 

Obviously this seclusion took its toll on the infrastructure and economy of the Albanian nation, some of which we saw during our wander around Saranda. For one, the roads were somewhat potholed and driving was haphazard. For another thing, building projects seemed to have popped up from place to place, some abandoned, some continuing. And I suppose if we had driven from the coast to Tirana, the capital city, this would have been further evident. But that didn't stop Saranda itself from being perfectly charming. 

Butrint 

Our next stop was at a UNESCO World Heritage site, the ancient ruins of Butrint. The Greco-Roman ruins fell under hard times during the Communist era when Hoxha refused entry to archaeologists and large-scale looting saw the site lose some of its important relics. But with UNESCO and new governmental support, the ruins are seeing a bit of a revival (as such): 

Next stop, Lekuresi Castle

After a lunch stop, we wound our way past Saranda's newly built airport and up to Lekuresi Castle high atop a stunning vantage point. Any ancient remains of a castle no longer stand and the whole establishment has been turned into a cafe and restaurant. But that's not really why you come here; the view's the thing:

Saranda town:
Our final stop took us to Saranda and its gorgeous little harbour. Beaches, fish restaurants and shops lined the seafront and seeing that temperatures had climbed steadily into the 30s, the water was filled with locals and tourists alike.

 

I alternated between beach lounging and swimming for the remainder of the afternoon, watching kids launch themselves off of large concrete piers and listening to mums gossip happily on their beach towels. It was a fitting end to a hot day and a delightful introduction to a country trying to make a name for itself in a quickly changing world.