AMAZON is Rarely Best Value on Many Items!

In late September I ordered my annual supply of Senseo-machine coffee-pads (not pods) from a German business called Kaffeekapslen. Everything one can see in the image below cost me £81.75 including shipping, postage and packing. The large box of goods was delivered at the beginning of October - since when I have been slowly composing this blog-post.

Image description: 29 packets of coffee-pads; 1 bag of hot-chocolate pads; 2 small bottles of low-calorie coffee-syrups; 1 box coffee-machine filters; and, 2 Senseo cups.

Not all products are available on the UK Amazon website: however, I did find five of the coffees were available there. None of the five cost less: +£O.80; +£2.29; +£4.07; +£5.02; +£5.13 = +£17.31 extra via said wicked# company. I have taken screenshots (below - no image descriptions yet), and took the cheapest version available. Some items were retailing at a helluva lot more.

During the pandemic I have repeatedly gone to Amazon to check out products. Then I have done a Google shopping-search. Not once has the wicked company been the cheapest. Herewith a link to Wikipedia’s article “Criticism of Amazon” (#) - NB it is rather long, but there is a handy-index just under the précis.

*

Just yesterday I was searching for an item I wish to remain private to help with some of my maladies. Amazon was not only not the cheapest, it was the most expensive (per Google shopping)!

*

Caveat emptor!

(For those outside the UK, that is a commonly-used Latin expression meaning “Buyer beware!”)

Grey Street, Newcastle-upon-Tyne

Georgian Elegance. Sophisticated Shopping. Fine Dining.

*

[Image description: the honey-coloured stone façades; © & courtesy FreeFoto]

*

Grey Street street gently curves down-/up-wards, so even mobility-impaired me can hobble down/up it. Every time I have done so it has been a day not unlike the photograph: blue sky, wispy clouds and a chill in the air or a cool breeze. I always feel at some point in my descent/ascent that I am in some Georgian or Regency novel. This is not an area for discount stores or bargain-hunters, one has to pay for the high-end clothing or haute cuisine.

Worth strolling along even if one's purse does not permit any spending here. Maybe even daydream being in an Austen or Brontë novel. ;)

*

Shoe-Shopping in Munich

On NeuhauserStraße in central Munich one will come across the shoe-shop chain Tretter’s main store at number 39: three expansive floors of footwear. It transpires it is the largest such establishment in the whole of Bavaria. The business’ tag-line is “Schuhe für München”, Shoes for Munich. I suspect most folk looking for more traditional or conservative items would depart after finding something to purchase.

I was actually searching for a pair of dress shoes to go with my DJ (tuxedo) as I appreciate the quality of German-manufactured footwear and thought a pair would probably last much of the rest of my life. However, whilst not chancing on a pair of patent leathers or similar, I did discover Bavarian-style shoes.

The first pair I selected was cut too low around my ankle so that my foot slipped with the shoes. The second pair seen in the image below are by Josef Seibel (a brand with which I am well and happily acquainted) fitted as if bespoke. The Haferlschuhe, sometimes also known in Bavarian as Bundschuhe, are labelled Schützenschuhe in Austria. They are often worn with traditional costume, Trachten, in both Germany and Austria; but folk also wear them as quotidian footwear.

The shoes were that comfortable, that I switched from wearing my Danish Ecco slip-ons and the assistant wrapped the latter in tissue-paper and popped them in my paper carrier-bag.

Before donning my Haferlschuhe, my attentive shop-assistant water-proofed them for no extra charge. She then made out a hand-written bill which I proffered to the cashier. Old-fashioned quality service.

I strolled out of the store with a bounce in my step - well would have done if I physically could have.

Estepona - at last!

In twelve years of visiting the Costa del Sol, despite several attempts, I had never actually managed to reach Estepona. On all previous tries the traffic at San Pedro de Alcántara has literally been at a stand-still, no matter the time of day or day of the week. However, the authorities have finally completed the long-needed and long-awaited by-pass, a tunnel through the town. The notorious delays are now nought but a nightmarish memory.

Come rain or shine I was determined that on this occasion I was going to reach my destination. Naturally, it rained and it rained. Still I was not dispirited. The drive from Benalmádena took less than an hour, with plenty to observe en route, so seemed much faster.

Parking is not the easiest in Estepona as we quickly determined. Thankfully my blue badge permitted us to slot into a disabled parking-bay. Although to obtain this central spot required two laps of the town centre.

Normally an advantage to me as a mobility-impaired chap, the wet marble - in its perilous slippery state - became a slight hazard to the heedless. Thankfully I had foreseen to sport shoes with good grippy soles.

My first priority once out on the streets is to track down a decent cup of coffee. To the caffeine-addict, the wafting aroma of freshly ground beans lured me into a den of iniquity, a café-bar up a side-street. Delicious and cheap - at least compared to the UK (although Swedes might be a tad disappointed as no-one makes coffee like the Swedish, not even the Viennese!).

After a strong café solo (black coffee) I was ready at last to commence shopping proceedings. Cardigans (or jackets or coats for that matter) with patches are de rigeur this winter season in Southern Spain for both sexes. I sourced a linden green cardy with  the en vogue patches and wooden toggles, much easier than buttons for my arthritic hands and fingers to cope with.

My companion purchased several items from Baileys, a Spanish chain. It transpires his body-shape suits Hispanic attire better than British, so he invariably stocks up on pants and shirts whilst visiting the Iberian Peninsula.

Our shopping complete and stowed in the boot of the car, we set off to explore more of the town centre. We were not disappointed: we were mesmerised by how individual streets are distinguished - by the use of a specific colour of flower-pot (macetas), some even with polka-dots! The following are a few snaps of some of the calles.

The more we roamed about, the more we felt convinced that Estepona is a smaller and prettier version of Marbella (not to be confused with Brutalist Puerto Banús!). The main square in Estepona is more peaceful, less commercialised and much more verdant than Marbella’s Plaza de los Naranjeros.

For the gay/bi/queer man and any woman with a pulse still attracted to the homoerotic, the menfolk of Estepona are the most handsome we have encountered on the Costa: taller; well proportioned; beautiful skin; charming; and, well dressed. Even the council workers in their overalls cut a dash. Either there is something in the water or there is a distinct local gene-pool. A great place to ogle, leer and just generally window-shop!

Finally we went in search of luncheon. We found a lovely spot on the esplanade to shelter from the large drops of rain. It looked out upon the Rock of Gibraltar. The chef doubled up as gardener and was busy planting cyclamens around his potted palms. I could not help but feel a pang of homesickness for my own garden back in England. On leaving, the chef-gardener gave us a hearty salutation. Bless him! Cooking and gardening: two of the greatest pastimes in this life; both able to give pleasure instantly and on a daily basis.

We dawdled back to the car, loathe to leave such a welcoming place. My friend and I are agreed we shall re-visit Estepona in April. I can hardly wait… %)

In/accessible Europe (1): Stockholm

During my healthier periods, or sometimes to recuperate from bad patches, I travel to the Continent. As one might imagine, my experiences as a disabled traveller have been mixed. Over the coming months I shall endeavour to recount trips to some of these European destinations.

A couple of Autumns back, my best friend decided to take me to Stockholm for some light-treatment. Why, one may ask, am I writing about somewhere I visited some time ago? Well, the honest answer is that some of my experiences there still rankle. It is the place where I have had my worst travel experiences, though not only so. Read on...

[Image description: map of Sockholm. An interactive version is available here]

Scandinavian Airlines

Flying with perfectly professional SAS (Scandinavian Airlines) was an efficient and comfortable journey. The only minor oversight was that my pre-requested meal was not aboard. Compared to British Airways or Austrian Airlines, in my opinion, SAS were superior; but oddly not as good as Monarch Airlines, a middle-cost flier.

Arlanda Airport & Express

At Arlanda Airport (Stockholm-Arlanda Airport) I was met, as pre-arranged, by disability assistance. They were fantastic: personable, humorous and efficient. They whizzed me through all checks and baggage-reclaim and down to the Arlanda Express (Arlanda Express) platform to Stockholm Central Station (Stockholm Central Station). They even offered to put me aboard the train. Unusually, from my experience in Europe, my two helpers refused any gratuity. Wonderful service!

The express train-service to the city-centre was fast, comfortable, spacious, clean and plenty of room for baggage and wheelchairs. (I found trains in Amsterdam to be similar.) No significant gaps between carriages and platforms at either end of the route meant no embarrassing or painful wheel-sticking. The express was bang on time almost to the second - no exaggeration and top marks!

Nordic Light Hotel

From the train-station (the Arlanda Express has its own mini-station connected to the main Central Station) to our hotel, the Nordic Light (Nordic Light), was less than thirty metres and over a very smooth paved area - no trip-hazards. Nordic Light is an office-block converted into an über-chic boutique hotel. The corridors, common-rooms and lifts are all spacious and accessible and moreover so was the room. The sound-proofing was to be marvelled at: no extraneous noise could disturb. Bliss: the best hotel room I have ever had!

I bet you are beginning to wonder where the bad bits are. Well, they're coming...

Tourist Information Office

According to our guidebook the tourist information office was situated in the main part of the train-station a little further up the road. We attempted to pay a visit only to determine that it had been relocated to the central shopping district. Using maps (yes, I'm old-fashioned!) we navigated to the relevant building. My jaw dropped! The office was in the basement, down two flights of stairs. No lift (elevator) nor stair-lift access. No button, buzzer, bell or 'phone to call for assistance. Thus no-one with mobility impairment(s) could make use of its services. Downright disability discrimination!

Shopping

Stockholm retails some of the most beautiful products in the world - clothing, furniture, fabrics, objets d'art, etc. Alas, it is not as much fun shopping there as in other European capitals. Service - well I hesitate to use the word - is almost non-existent no matter how much money you have to spend nor how disabled you are. Shop assistants will always give priority to their conversations or tasks with which they are already involved. Customers come well down the list of things-to-do. Even in my favourite Svenskt Tenn (Svenskt Tenn) the service is cursory and that was the best shop-assistance I received my whole time there.

Eateries

Paradoxically, the service in cafés and restaurants was excellent. And boy did we drink a lot of cups of coffee! The Swedes prepare delicious coffee: every cup was savoured; as were the cakes & pastries. Chirpy chaps served us every time.

The restaurants treated us regally. We did determine that, despite what the guides state to the contrary, gratuities are gratefully accepted by all waiters. Meals with drinks cost comparably the same as a night out in Manchester city-centre and a heck of a lot less than in London. The cuisine was varied and delicious (- not a rollmop in sight!). We even tried an alfresco luncheon with a glass of bubbly one fine, sunny day. Fabulous! Not all restaurants are accessible. One we used had an almost stile entrance into a bar area and then I had to crawl up a few steps to reach the dining-room. It was worth it though: the reindeer and vodka were delicious.

Tourist sites

The historic district of Gamla Stan (Old Town) is a maze of cobbled streets. It was murder to walk on even with assistance and two walking-sticks. It would have been hell in a wheelchair without decent suspension! Probably best for wheelies to stick to the outer rim with the fabulous views over the Riddarfjardan.

In other areas I found there were plenty of benches, great for pausing and catching one's breath as well as taking in sights and panoramas.

We did take a cruise on Mälaren (Mälaren) a brackish lake. The boat we caught was definitely not wheelchair-accessible; but it is possible others may be. There was, however, a big burly sailor on hand to assist (unsolicited) entry and egress for the mobility-impaired. Bless him! This was much appreciated.

We went to the dance-theatre to see a piece by an English troupe that included disabled performers. At the end of the performance showers of sweets were thrown on stage and there was a loud and prolonged standing ovation. No access issues here.

Going to a music concert was not quite so straight-forward. We wanted to see a performance at the Konserthuset (Stockholm Concert Hall). It started well: there was a ramp leading to the booking-office. Unfortunately the door at the top was too heavy to open single-handedly. There was no means of calling for assistance and no electronically operated system. Another wheelchair-user arrived, a Swedish lady and her friend. Between us all we managed to open the door and enter. Tickets were purchased and then the four of us queued for the lift to take us into the theatre. And we waited...

Suddenly, a ticket-seller leaned over the counter and shouted at us that the lift was out of order. We had to go over to sort out what to do. But why did he not tell us when we were buying the tickets that we could not enter the concert-hall? Could he not have walked across the ticket-hall and quietly explained the situation? I really felt like a second-class citizen. Eventually we had to exit the hall and go round the back of the building and go up in the service lift along with a couple of old dears. It did not end there though. Next we discovered that the concert-hall itself was not accessible due to steps. Another obstacle. Someone did go off and returned some minutes later with a very wobbly mobile ramp to place over the steps. Finally we accessed the hall in time to enjoy the concert. British theatres and concert-halls are far, far better.

Arlanda Airport

Now the part that I doubt very much I shall ever forget. I arrived at check-in at Arlanda Airport with my two sticks and just about ready to collapse, having pushed myself too far. A helpful assistant came over and directed me to a customer-service (misnomer!) desk and there I was to request my wheelchair. The 'customer-service' assistant advised me that I could not have my chair until I had checked-in. Eventually, after some argy-bargy and help from the original assistant, I was given the wheelchair. This time with no disability assistance. So I wheeled myself. We did not have to queue for very long as a check-in clerk beckoned me over to him with a hand gesture and lovely, friendly smile.

Worse was to come. We headed for passport control. I was wheeling myself at my speed (slow as I was tired; but we had plenty of time, so no rush) as it is relatively easy for me to do so on smooth surfaces. I could not reach the passport-controller as there was nowhere for me to tuck the wheelchair under her counter. I had to make a multiple-point manœuvre so as to get the chair sideways on. In order to do so, I placed my passport in my mouth - I have to take similar actions a lot and so am used to not salivating over whatever object is in there. The controller went ballistic. Odd that given I was wheeling the chair, my hands were likely covered in all the crud covering the floor.

Overall Impressions

Stockholm is beautiful and surely romantic. It is full of history, art and culture; but much is inaccessible. The shopping is excellent product-wise, poor service-wise. Service in our hotel and all the eateries we used was excellent and amiable. Service in theatres was mixed. Service at the airport was mixed. Disablism is rife and overt. I felt very uncomfortable, never knowing how I might be treated next. If one is able-bodied, Stockholm is a must-see; not so for the mobility-impaired and wheelies.