In memory of my grandfather and father

Leo Ellegard-Adda

With Egypt in the news so much of late and having such a personal connection for me and my siblings, it has reignited our desire to discover more about our grandfather, Leon Ellegard-Adda. As I wrote in a previous blog, he was born in Cairo and died there having moved back when he and our English grandmother – who was a Tiller Girl dancer at the Folies Bergere when they met – split up.

 My younger brother, Paul, has now scanned in the only pictures we have of our grandfather, which were sent by a friend of his after he died in May, 1956 – when I was almost two years old.

Granddad Leo with Tommy by the Sphinx and Pyramids

 One in particular shows Leo, as he was known, with our uncle Tommy on horses in front of the Sphinx and Pyramids. It was taken when Tommy was on leave from the Army while serving in Egypt in the Second World War. Having stood on that very spot myself to take pictures of the Sphinx, it is especially poignant for me.

Sadie, Leo and my dad as a baby, in France

Sadly, our dad never got to see his father again after he and Tommy were brought by our grandmother, Sarah Anne (or Sadie, as she was known), back to England from France, where the two children were both born and spent their childhoods. Dad was just 12 at the time.

Leo remained in Cairo for 20 years until he died, just prior to the Suez Crisis – producing films in both French and English. Apparently, he wanted to come to England to visit his sons when they first came to England but was not allowed to. Having just found some papers including some letters he sent his sons, it would appear that the relationship between him and them, certainly my dad, was strained. He talked about coming over to England after the war, but in the end he never did.

Today has been something of an emotional rollercoaster for me, as it was 14 years ago on this very day that my father died. I was in Tanzania on safari in the Serengeti with my wife at the time. It was a traumatic time, as heavy and unseasonal rains prevented us from flying out of the camp in a light plane for a couple of days, resulting in us missing the connecting flight back to London and then going on to the coast to stay in a new hotel until the next flight. We were the only guests and were waited on hand and foot. But I just felt empty inside and simply wanted to return home. 

Dad as a National Fire Service motorcycle despatch rider 

My dad inspired me to become a journalist. He was a wonderful photographer who worked as a freelance covering news and events for many publications including all the national papers. He hadn’t always been a photographer. Prior to the war breaking out, he joined the National Fire Service but was too young to be a fireman, so he became a despatch rider for a year or so until he was old enough. Even then he was dabbling in photography, something that he would turn to full time on leaving the fire service at the end of the war. 

Neville Chamberlain

Only today, while going through some papers with my mum as we reminisced, I came across a wonderful picture he took of the then Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, with his wife. It must have been taken in 1940 or before, as Chamberlain died in November that year. So my dad would have been just 17 or younger when he took it!

We also came across a photo of a flooded road in 1953, taken by a colleague. Dad is in the picture, having taken his trousers off and waded into the middle to get closer shots of the cars trying to negotiate it.

He was always coming up with ingenious ways of getting the best shot. After the tragic floods of 1952, he chartered a plane to get aerial pictures of Foulness, Canvey and other inundated parts of the Essex coast. When pirate radio stations which were broadcasting from ships and wartime forts off the Essex coast were in the news after being outlawed by the British Government, dad bought his own boat so that he could go out any time and get the shots – and also cine film footage, as he was by now filming for the BBC, ITN and American broadcasters – without having to find a local boatman. Needless to say, he was always first on the scene.

Dad, far left minus trousers, getting close to the action

 

He even had a police radio to monitor their transmissions, for which he got a slap on the wrist once when he turned up to a crime scene before the police did! And he pre-empted the age of the mobile phone by paying a local taxi firm to let him have a two-way radio so that if he was out on a job he could be contacted immediately, using his callsign of Romeo, and likewise he could check in to let us know where he was. And this was over 50 years ago! He truly was ahead of his time.

My brothers and I were often used as models when he needed children playing in the snow, like when the Thames froze over at Southend in the bitter winter of 1962/63. And I always used to like watching him in his darkroom, turning celluloid film into beautiful and evocative pictures after working his magic with the enlarger and developing trays.

He gave me a Box Brownie one year and that started my own love of photography. I would go off to Southend Airport and air shows around the country in my early teens, returning to his darkroom to create dogfights by superimposing aircraft onto pictures of others. Like my older brother, John, I went into the writing side of journalism, and I followed him onto the local paper, the Evening Echo, as a reporter. I never lost my love of photography, though, and would often take pictures for myself while on assignment.

When I joined Travel Trade Gazette, aka TTG, 12 years later I got the chance to travel overseas and experiment even more with my photography. I had many pictures published – first in TTG and then for a photo library supplying tour operator brochures, newspapers and magazines, and also directly with tourist boards. 

Dad always judged my work, and that of my brothers and sister, critically.

He never gave praise lightly, and when the Seychelles Tourist Board chose my pictures to use as posters for a nationwide advertising campaign and the Government of India Tourist Office used one of my pictures as a full-page gatefold in the Sunday colour supplements for its memorable Indiahhh campaign in the early 1990s, it was the same. 

The best I got when I showed them to him was: “Not bad.” But it made me strive for perfection, and undoubtedly is why I am now my own harshest critic. Just good enough is not good enough for me.

A few months before I went freelance, just over nine years ago, I came second overall in a photographic competition for all the worldwide offices of United Business Media. I also had six other pictures as category winners or runners up, out of a total of 34 winning pictures from 650 entries. One of the category winners was a picture of lion cubs, taken in the Serengeti. When I found out the time my father died after I returned home from that trip, I realised that I must have taken it at almost precisely the same time.

I use that picture on my business card as part of my logo. Every time I look at it, it reminds me of my dad. And I wonder whether I managed to capture some of his spirit in it. 

I have been lucky enough to win several other awards for both my writing and my photography since then, including Travel Photographer of the Year for 2009 in the inaugural Travel Press Awards. They mean a tremendous amount to me, but what would have meant even more would have been to be able to share in that success with my dad. My inspiration, my mentor, my hero.

If it was possible to turn back time, I would have three wishes. One would be that I could have met and known my grandfather. The second would be that my dad could have spent the time with his dad that he was denied when he was growing up. And my final wish would be that I could have had them both together to share all the ups I have had in my life, and help me get through all the downs. Rest in peace, Dad, and Granddad. I miss you both.

Egypt – victory for the people, but what next?

Egypt’s wonderful cultural heritage did not escape the upheavals of recent weeks in Cairo unscathed, it would appear.

According to a BBC report, the venerable Egyptian Museum was broken into at the end of January during a period of lawlessness when police were removed from the streets and some 18 objects were stolen, including a priceless gilded statue of Tutankhamen. Many more objects were knocked over or damaged as glass cases were smashed in the raid, although thankfully the famous gold mask was not taken or damaged.

Egyptian Museum: thieves
broke in through the roof

It is a sad footnote to what has otherwise been a time of jubilation for the country.

The incredible events which have unfolded in Cairo over recent weeks have had the world spellbound – and with the resignation of Mubarak there has been an overwhelming outpouring of joy for the people of Egypt, not to mention a huge sense of relief that the popular uprising achieved its aim by and large peacefully.

That the will of the people, from all walks of life, could prevail against a dictator who had ruled the country through force and intimidation for 30 years and who met the protests with violence says much about their strength of character and bravery.

It is something their ancestors, ruled over by the omnipotent dictators of their day, the pharaohs, would have been proud.

Ancient dictators: statue of Ramses II at Luxor Temple

Like everyone else, I watched the TV news bulletins showing tanks lining up against the growing throng with foreboding. But, as with my own experience during the Cairo police conscript riots of 1986 (see previous blog, below), the army were the good guys. Their refusal to fire on the protestors like the security police and plain-clothed government thugs had done days earlier was pivotal in the final outcome.

The military have dissolved Egypt’s parliament and suspended the constitution pending the setting up of a committee to draft a new one, which seems to have appeased the protestors. Triumphant in victory, they initially refused to leave Cairo's Tahrir Square, resulting in an uneasy stand-off with the army. Most have now left the makeshift protest camp. However, the future remains far from clear, with the likelihood of widespread strikes which would cripple Cairo as the clamour for swift changes grows.

The hope, both within Egypt and around the world, is that its people will get the free elections and democratic government they deserve, coupled with higher living standards – in the same way the Romanian people have done since the overthrow of Communist dictator Nicolae Causcescu in the people’s revolution of 1989. Certainly Egypt needs stability to encourage visitors to return. With the country having lost $1 billion in tourism receipts by its own admission, and as much as $3 billion according to some reports, it can ill afford for tourists to stay away.

Machine gun and rifle on Nile cruise ship

However, there is also a risk that, with a power vacuum at the top until any election, rival factions may start bickering and even resorting to violence. Extreme fundamentalism, suppressed by Mubarak but never eradicated, could rear its ugly head with resulting indiscriminate terrorist attacks. One only has to look at what happened in Iraq post-Saddam to appreciate the dangers.

On Nile cruise ships, passengers have become accustomed to the presence of armed guards with machine guns mounted on the stern. It is a strangely reassuring sight. God forbid they will ever need to be used to ward off attacks.

I wish Egypt good luck for the future. It will need it, but the Egyptian people have the goodwill of the whole world to draw on.

Worrying times in the land of my grandfather

It is very sad to see the latest unrest and violence in Egypt, following on from the turmoil in Tunisia – two countries I know and love to visit.

It is particularly sad to witness the scenes in Cairo, as it not only brings back some disturbing memories of my own experiences there 25 years ago but it is somewhere with a very personal connection.

My grandfather was born in the city and also died there, when I was very young so I never got to meet him. A man of huge talents – he was a film producer as well as a multilingual translator and worked for a time with the British Army – he lived in France for many years, marrying an English dancer with the famous Tiller Girls troupe who were resident at the Folies Bergere.

His latter life is shrouded in mystery. Having lived in France for many years (my dad and his brother – both sadly no longer with us – spent their childhood in the family’s grand lake-side villa just outside Versailles, complete with servants, when they weren’t accompanying their father through Europe, North Africa and India), he returned to Egypt in the mid-1930s when he and my grandmother split up.

She brought their two sons back to England while he lived in Cairo for over 20 years until his death. During his lifetime he was a wealthy man, sending expensive gifts from Cairo to my parents in austerity-racked Britain. Yet he died apparently penniless. We don’t even know where he is buried. Both my younger brother and I hope to unravel some of the mystery one day by going to the records offices in Cairo, something our uncle tried to do unsuccessfully years ago.

My first visit to Cairo was in 1986, as part of a trip to research an Egypt supplement for the travel publication where I was a reporter. The plan was to spend several days doing interviews and seeing the sights in Cairo before flying to Luxor and then on to the Red Sea for some diving and R&R. I immediately fell in love with the city and felt an affinity with it.

Because time was tight, I had to make do with tantalisingly short visits to the ancient pyramids at Giza and Sakkarah and the Egyptian Museum, with its amazing displays including the golden mask of Tutankhamen (I got there 15 minutes before if closed!). But with Luxor and its wonders beckoning, I settled into my bed at the historic Cairo Marriott (a former palace on the banks of the Nile) on my final night and drifted off to sleep. On waking, there was something odd. The cacophony that is Cairo’s traffic was subdued, almost silent. I could only find one station on the bedside radio, in Egyptian, and the presenter seemed hysterical. No TV stations were on air. All I could find was a ticker-tape news summary scrolling across the screen, including one message which ominously read: All is quiet in Cairo after a night of rioting, in which several hotels were set alight.

I looked outside but saw no smoke. Thankfully my hotel wasn’t one of them. Then I called my advertising colleague, who had brought his wife, to alert him and ran down to the front desk. Most of the other guests had checked out, including a Scandinavian princess and her entourage. We packed quickly and got a taxi so that we could get to the airport for our Luxor flight.

But it seemed the rest of Cairo had the same idea. As we left the city, the roads became increasingly snarled up and approaching the airport it was total gridlock. It was pandemonium, and cars were even trying to drive across the desert scrub. After checking his radio, our driver informed us the airport had been surrounded by the army. He also said a curfew would be imposed in an hour. So we had to get him to turn around so we could take cover in the nearest hotel. Well, the nearest four-star one. After all, we British have to keep a certain sense of decorum, even in an emergency.

The Sheraton Heliopolis was one of the closest hotels to the airport and also one of the biggest. The lobby was mobbed out and there was an air of panic. Luckily, we managed to get two of the last available rooms – at hugely-inflated prices. I then went back down to the lobby to check the situation with the airport. The poor front desk staff were being bombarded with similar requests, but knew nothing. This was pre-mobile phones so we had no means of getting news, other than overhearing people who had just arrived off inbound flights and could not get into Cairo. It sounded grim. They told of seeing smoke billowing close to the pyramids as they came in to land.

The story began to emerge: it seemed that the conscript police had been incited to riot by extremists intent on overthrowing the government. They had spread a rumour that the conscription period was being extended. The enraged, young police officers had poured out of their barracks near the pyramids and began shooting people and setting fire to buildings, including a hotel where I had interviewed the general manager the day before. My colleague and his wife had an even narrower escape. They had been at the sound and light show at the Great Pyramid that evening, just before the police ran riot. The army had been called in by the government to quell the riots and there had been clashes between the two sides with many deaths.

By now, Cairo was locked down. Tanks rumbled past our hotel, but nothing else was moving on the streets outside. We tried to keep calm, but it was impossible. There were rumours about the airport reopening the next day for repatriation flights to cities including London. The front desk clerk promised to call if he had news. That night I didn’t dare go to bed, even sitting on my suitcase for some hours in case we had to leave in a hurry. My hopes rose when I heard several aircraft fly over the hotel to land at the airport. I dashed down to the packed lobby (many people were spread out on the floor and chairs as there were no rooms left) to glean some news. But still there was none. I found out later that there had been a skirmish between the police and army on the airport perimeter close to the hotel after some of the incoming aircraft had been shot at.

Dawn broke and still there was no news. I had managed to get a message faxed to my office to let them know we were safe and well, but that was all. It was impossible to make a call as the phone lines were constantly busy. I went back down to the lobby to check yet again. To my amazement, they had news this time. There would indeed be special flights, with one to London in several hours’ time. Hurriedly, the three of us gathered our things and checked out. Amazingly, with the curfew still supposedly in place, there were taxis outside. We jumped in one and set off, but within minutes came across an army roadblock. A machine gun was pointed at us through an open window as we were questioned and our passports were checked. I knew these were the good guys, but it was still frightening. I had never wanted to be a war correspondent. After a few heart-stopping minutes, they waved us through.

The airport was deserted, except for the Egyptair desks. They were operating repatriation flights to several cities, and the London flight was in just a couple of hours’ time. Unfortunately, I had been due to fly home with Air Sudan so my ticket was worthless. I had to buy another one. And if I thought the hotel lobby had been a seething mass, it was nothing compared to this. Locals were shouting to get the attention of the ticketing staff, and continually succeeding in jumping the queue. If a baying mob could be called a queue. It felt like I was getting pushed further and further back, and my own panic levels were starting to rise as I realised I might not get my ticket in time to make the flight. Mercifully, as the minutes ticked down, an astute manager took control and announced that the London flight would be boarding imminently and asked for anyone wanting to go there to make themselves known. I thrust my hand up and was soon being sold a ticket. Once more at a vastly inflated price, of course.

I joined the other two in the departure lounge and we boarded the plane with a sense of relief. It was less than half full so everyone spread out, and crashed out. TV cameras and reporters greeted us as we landed at Heathrow, and the local paper in Southend where I had previously worked ran the story of my experiences (and those of a few other locals who had also been caught up in it) after interviewing me when I got home.

Seeing the reports on TV over recent days has sparked a sombre feeling of déjà-vu. The difference this time is that it is the citizens of Cairo and Egypt’s other cities who have taken to the streets and are clashing with the security forces. It is the first time the army has been sent into the city since my unfortunately-timed visit in 1986.

Like everyone else, I just hope that the situation doesn’t get out of control. Egypt is a magical place and has become a favourite destination for British and other holidaymakers. 

This unrest is not only risking losing Egypt’s vital tourism lifeblood for some time to come, it could lead to the whole country being torn apart by violence and revolution. Over the years Egypt has battled back from terrorist atrocities and attempted insurgency. Can it withstand the destructive forces it now faces?

The world is holding its breath as things develop. And I am praying for peace to return to the land of my grandfather.

Pasadena revisited

I love California, and Pasadena is one of my favourite places there. However, despite constant badgering by travel industry friends there to pay a return visit, it has been almost 17 years since my last visit.

But boy, do I have some wonderful and enduring memories of that trip. 

It was July 1994 and the travel trade publication I was features editor of, TTG, was having an international editorial conference in Los Angeles to tie in with the World Travel Awards at Hollywood's Universal Studios, which we were producing a special supplement for. I was involved in both. 

World Cup opening ceremony at the Rose Bowl
Photo: Leonardo Hauer  

Also happening at the same time was the 1994 football World Cup, being hosted by the USA for the first time. The World Cup Final was at the historic Rose Bowl stadium in Pasadena - and I was lucky enough to be given a ticket to watch Brazil play Italy, along with several colleagues. The event itself was amazing, as were the traffic jams, which made us late for the opening ceremony.


Baggio's famous penalty miss

So we missed seeing the staged penalty shot that Diana Ross took, and missed!

But we got to see the miss of the day after the tense but scrappy 0-0 draw had been fought out. We were lucky enough to be behind the goal where the penalty shoot-out took place - and Roberto Baggio's penalty miss sailed over the crossbar into the crowd just below us, handing Brazil victory. 

As we made our way out of the stadium the queues were so long for buses half a dozen of us walked along the streets for a while, until a pick-up truck full of Brazil fans saw us with our World Cup regalia and stopped to give us a lift. 

We squeezed into the cab and open back of the truck with our new-found friends, waving Brazil scarves and flags and blowing horns at passers-by until we reached Old Pasadena.

There, the party was already in full swing, with scantily-clad Latin ladies from all the South American nations which had been in the World Cup dancing salsa, samba, merengue, mambo and conga in the streets while we hit the bars. I don't remember how I got back to my hotel, but I do remember the street party lasted all night long.

My return visit was a far more staid affair, and Old Pasadena seemed to have been spruced up a bit since my previous encounter. It must have taken them weeks to clear up after that. Although I was back in town for a few days, I was there for the One Travel Conference and most of my time would be spent indoors. 

I did manage to get out and about with my cameras on Sunday afternoon, though, after my three-hour foray in Macy's (see previous blog). People were out enjoying the cobalt-blue skies and 80F temperature, having fun in Central Park, strolling the streets, shopping and sitting at outdoor cafes and bars. It was a lovely atmosphere.

I didn't get to see as many places as I would have liked to, as I needed to get back for the opening event of the conference. But I got some nice pictures of the park and neighbouring buildings, including Castle Green with its twin circular, Mediterranean-style towers and domes. I also wandered around the impressive City Hall and snapped a few shots.

Stupidly, I forgot to take my camera to a wine-tasting evening at the lavishly-decorated Civic Auditorium.

The old part of the city is full of other architectural gems and beautiful gardens. Amazing to think that all this history was so nearly swept away for redevelopment in the 1970s. Sadly, I had no time to explore more. But with any place I love to visit and photograph, I always need an excuse to return again to see the things I missed before.

Arnie may no longer be California state governor now, but as he famously said: I'll be back.

Shop America

OK, so now I am feeling guilty. Having gone to the Ugg outlet store to look for boots for my daughters and not bought any because of the price (see previous blog), I went out and did a little retail therapy for myself on my first full day in Pasadena.

As I was in the city to attend and speak at the ONE Travel Conference - which is all about dining, shopping and cultural tourism in the USA - I felt a responsibility to engage in all of those activities during my stay, to get into the spirit. Pasadena is full of great restaurants and wonderful architecture (more anon), so that just left the shopping...

I should have stayed in my hotel room writing but couldn't concentrate as the maids kept knocking on my door to clean the room. It was a holiday weekend and the weather was perfect for photography, plus I needed to fill up the Jeep having driven the last part of my journey there on fumes with the fuel warning light on. So at the nearest service station I decided to put in just enough for driving around town and to get back to the airport. My car costs me nearly £80 (about $125) to fill up back in the UK, with petrol an outrageous £1.25 or more per litre. In Pasadena it was pricier than I had seen, but still good value at $3.40 per gallon. So I pre-purchased $50 worth - and had to get a refund as I could only put just over $40 worth in!

Just across the road I couldn't help noticing a rather large Macy's department store, so I thought I would give it a quick look.

Three hours later I came out armed to the teeth with bargains, having scoured virtually every department other than homeware. My best bargain was a stylish, grey Calvin Klein jacket. The sales assistant had literally just said there would be something calling out to me on the racks, and there it was. The only one they had left, and although it wasn't the size I normally wear it fitted perfectly. My heart sank when I noticed the original price of $300, but it had successive clearance stickers on it with the last one reading $43.72!

Even if it hadn't had fitted I was going to have it at that price! And the sales lady gave me 15% off on top of that although I only had a 10% discount coupon, so it actually cost me lest than 40 bucks.
But my shopping spree also included a pair of grey Macy's shoes, three shirts (DKNY, Geoffrey Beene and Calvin Klein) and two pairs of golf trousers including a Tommy Hilfiger pair. Even so, the whole lot cost under $190, or about £120!

Me with award, that jacket and Susan Wilson,
 from award sponsor TravMedia

On the final day of the conference they announced the winners of the SASI-ONE Awards for innovative marketing - and I was immensely honoured to be named Travel Journalist of the Year for services to the US tourism industry. After collecting my award on stage I was asked to say a few words, so of course I had to tell the audience about my bargain buys...and I couldn't resist a fashion show and a twirl. Which got everyone laughing.

The conference is co-organised by the Shop America Alliance.

I think I shopped for Britain!

My name is Peter and I am a shopaholic...

Small is beautiful

In America, the favourite Texan saying of "big is beautiful" doesn't always apply. That is particluarly the case with accommodation. Some of the best places I have stayed in during my 25 or so years visiting Uncle Sam, and neighbouring Canada, have been homely bed and breakfast inns.

I have been  fortunate to have stayed in B&B's from Florida in the Deep South to the edge of the Arctic Circle and from Virgina and Maryland in the East to California on the West Coast. The one thing they all offer is a very personal welcome and a home from home experience. Something which hotels cannot offer for the most part, because they deal in volume and because the staff are not personally involved in the business.

For me, there is no better way to explore a destination than by being able to talk through the options available and get personal suggestions from locals. That is exactly what I did during my recent stay at the Cheshire Cat Inn in Santa Barbara, chatting with Christine Dunstan and her partner Jack over a glass of two of wine during their afternoon wine and nibbles hour for guests, and over breakfast each morning with the duty manager. You can do that at a hotel with a concierge, but it isn't the same and they can't spare you the same amount of time.

You also generally get more space in a B&B, and very often a lot more luxury than many hotels. This is not your typical British seaside B&B we're talking about. In the case of the Cheshire Cat, my room - Tweedledum, in an annexe away from the main house - had a large lounge with fireplace (not needed, thanks to warmer weather coinciding with my arrival), TV, settee and winged chairs, plus a kitchenette area with tea and coffee making facilities, microwave and sink, with crockery and utensils. There was a separate dressing room, en suite bathroom with shower and a huge bedroom complete with large, soft bed, Jacuzzi bath, flat screen TV and iPod dock. The main house had a sitting room/library and there was a gazebo in the garden outside. And free wifi, both in the annexe and in the main house.

I'm sure Christine and Jack won't mind me saying the decor was a little too chinzy (as in flowery - the British meaning) for my taste. Or the fact that the light switches and sockets had been so cleverly wallpapered to match the pattern behind that you had to hunt to find some of them. But those are not meant as compaints at all.

I moved on yesterday to the elegant ultra luxurious Langham Huntingdon Hotel & Spa in Pasadena for a cultural heritage tourism conference I am speaking at. A member of the Leading Hotels of the World, it has been wowing guests under various guises since 1907. Now I love a bit of luxury, and my room is very comfortable with a bed to die for. But why in such a landmark hotel are guests not provided with tea or coffee making facilities in their rooms? And how come a CD player rather than an iPod dock? Who takes CDs with them when they travel now?

I always prefer to park my car when staying at hotels, in case I need to go back and get something from it or have to get away in a hurry instead of having to wait for it to be retrieved from the valet parking lot. Here, and in many other hotels of this ilk, there is no option, you have to have your car valet parked. For $25 per night. Plus the tip each time you pick it up or drop it off. Sorry, but I think that is outrageous. As is the wifi charge many of the top-end hotels levy. In this instance as I am part of a conference it is free. But otherwise it costs $9.99 per night, per piece of kit you access the internet on. So overnight parking and wifi on your laptop and iPhone, like I have, would set you back almost $50 per night, plus tips and $9.99 more if you also had an iPad.

OK, there is a lovely swimming pool, a spa, restaurant and bar, 24-hour room service, 24-hour business centre, overnight shoe cleaning and all the other amenities you expect from a top hotel. I just wish it didn't feel like guests are constantly being fleeced. And I mean all upmarket hotels, and many other mid-range ones too.

I'll put the soapbox away now...

California Dreamin'

Amazing what a change of weather and scenery does for the heart andsoul. I've swapped the drab, rainy skies of England in winter for the sunshine and warmth of Southern California - and everyone is smiling. My base since arriving two days ago has been the beautiful city of Santa Barbara, somewhere I had frequently bypassed while on one of my many trips to the Golden Gate State but never had the time to actually stop off and visit. I didn't realise what I had been missing.

Having enjoyed a very relaxing British Airways jumbo jet flight (facing backwards!) to LAX - as Los Angeles Airport is known - I had hoped to take a leisurely drive up the Pacific Coast Highway once I picked up my rental car. But LAX was a human zoo which took over 90 minutes to get through, with endless lines to go through both immigration and customs. At least the border control officers seem to be less efficious these days, even if they still don't make you feel exactly welcome.

Then less than four miles after setting off in my orange Dollar rental Jeep I hit one of LA's never-ending freeway jams. I must have sat for the equivalent of many days in those. 

But at least I had my California Driving playlist blasting out on my iPod, and the dusk sky turned brilliant shades of pink and orange as I drove north. 

My accommodation - a delightful B&B called the Cheshire Cat, owned by an English lady and her American partner - is so close to the city centre I could walk to dinner. Which I have done now on both nights.

Sadly, it is time to leave and head for Pasadena, where I will be staying for the next four nights.

Before I leave I will do some sightseeing in some of the wineries of this area. Having sampled their produce over the past two days it would be rude not to.

Yesterday I visited some absolute delights, from the historic Mission Santa Barbara and Presidio to the ornate Courthouse - the view from the roof lookout is amazing.

I had a great clam chowder lunch overlooking the harbour in Brophy's seafood restaurant and had dinner with a latin flavour at Cafe Buenos Aires after a quick beer in Hobnob, co-owned by A-lister Kevin Costner until last year.

I took loads of photos of the ocean and beach, including a wonderful sunset with Santa Barbara as the backdrop. And I have met some great people.

The one thing I have noticed here is all the girls wearing skimpy outfits - and huge Ugg boots. Only in California. Apparently the US HQ is nearby, and there is an outlet store enroute to Pasadena.

My daughters wouldn't forgive me if I drove by without stopping...

Postscript: Sorry girls - I went to the Amarillo outlets mall and found the Ugg store, but their idea of "bargains" were in the $139-$179 range. Much as I love you both, even love has its limits.

Hello world!

If this is your first time viewing these blogs, welcome - and I hope you find them entertaining. As I sit at my desk on a cold, albeit sunny, Sunday in January writing my first tlm blog, the world of travel seems infinitely more appealing than the winter bleakness of Essex outside the windows.

If you need a panacea for the post-New Year blues (or your team being knocked out of the FA Cup), the latest issue of tlm will surely help to lift your spirits.  You can dream yourself away to the paradise island of Bali, marvel at the splendour of the Gulf States, imagine being pampered on a luxury cruise and soak up the romance of a break in Venice. On the home front, you can take a walk through history on the Jurassic Coast, join the village people in London and revel in Britain's glorious maritime history.

The Winter 2010/2011 issue also looks at the appeal of solo holidays, we highlight some of the latest travel gadgets and gizmos as well as giving suggestions for things to pack for your holiday, check out some of London's latest hotels and give our take on what we think are 10 of the best views you can get from hotel rooms around the world.
Just go to the tlm website to register for the online issue. Or better still, take out a subscription for your own regular copy of tlm, and be in with a chance of winning one of 55 Michelin London guides. You can also win more than £2,500-worth of other prizes in competitions on the website. They range from a short break to the European Capital of Culture, Tallin, to a golf and spa stay at Ryder Cup host resort Celtic Manor, an overnight airport hotel stay and 15 days' parking, a set of six Insight Select guides, four stylish wristlet Bam Bags and 20 pairs of tickets to the Adventure Travel Live show in London.
There is also a £180 Flip MinoHD video camera up for grabs in our reader survey, and you can win a copy of the Insight Guide to Travel Photography in both January and February with our fun winter photo competition. See the website for details, and visit tlm's Facebook page to see a selection of entries and the winners of our highly-successful summer photo competition with Leica.
Keep following these blogs, and keep up to date with tlm on Facebook and Twitter.