Olympics guide to London transport

This summer, London's beleaguered public transport system will be hammered as rarely seen before. The expected mass exodus of the natives to avoid the Olympics is unlikely to happen to any great extent, so millions upon millions of people will have to be squeezed on to our antiquated Underground. This will result in an awful lot of grumpy people (that'll be me, then) muttering in disbelief at tourists' inability to grasp the basics of travelling in London. Here are a few tips to reduce the grumpiness, if only by a smidgeon.

1. How to use the escalator in a Tube station
Patronising title, I know, but believe me, people still need a lesson in this. It all boils down to this: STAND ON THE RIGHT AND KEEP THE LEFT CLEAR FOR PEOPLE TO WALK. Wonderfully simple logic, I know, but hard for many to grasp. It's not just tourists who ignore this, of course. But, really, it's just good manners. That leads me to ...

2. Don't block the entrance
You reach the entrance, or the exit, or the ticket gates, or the train platform, and there they are – a cluster of people who arrive and just stop. And don't move. And then wonder why you're scowling at them as you try to get through the throng. Shuffling over just a few feet will make a difference.

3. How to board a train
More patronising tones, but I'm standing firm on this. A Tube train finally arrives and what do you do? We'll, what you don't do is stand in front of the doors and prevent people from getting off. Because this will just delay your chance to get on the train. Another simple piece of logic routinely ignored. And once you do board, bear in mind that there's a pretty good chance that someone will be behind you and will want to get on the train as well. This is not the signal for you to saunter on and just stand in front of the doors. Expect to get nudged forward, with varying degrees of politeness.

4. A couple of Tube tips
London Underground trains have buttons on the doors that indicate "open". They don't actually do anything. The doors will open automatically. Also, regular Tube passengers are accustomed to a juddering stop-start motion of the train as it tries to leave a station. This means people are leaning too heavily against the doors, which will prevent the train from leaving. So don't lean on the doors. Yes, it is your fault.

5. Other forms of public transport, namely Boris Bikes
London's bike-rental scheme has been a huge success – too much so for many people (yep, me again) who find it considerably more difficult to find a functioning bike now that everyone can rent one easily. The problem is that many people who happily hop on one of these things have no idea of the rules of the road. You wouldn't get in a rental car and blithely ignore the law, yet that's what people do with bikes. Not just naughty, but dangerous. Here are a few basics.

5a. We drive and cycle on the left – gauche – sinistra – links – izquierda – esquerda – levo – etc
That also applies to bike lanes. Do try to bear that in mind. And don't let your kids weave all over the path, even if it's within a park. You might think you're in a safe place, but there are plenty of speeding cyclists (this time not me) who are in a hurry and have little patience with people who get in their way.

5b. Know when to give way to oncoming traffic
When you come to a crossing or any sort of junction and you see broken lines in front of you on the road, that means you do not have right of way. Let other people – be they pedestrians or other cyclists – pass first. I really wouldn't ignore this rule. People will get hurt.

5c. Indicating when you're going to turn would be helpful now and again
Stick the appropriate arm out if you're turning left or right. We can't always read your mind. This inability to indicate applies to cars as well, but that's another story.

What all of these points boil down to is to remember that there are other people travelling with you – in London's case, anything up to nine million people. So take a moment to pay some attention to your surroundings and you might just keep some of the natives (including me) from growling too loudly behind you.

Hotel websites – less is more

It's an easy trap to fall into. A hotel wants to revamp its website and has a quick trawl through the web to see the latest concepts. It finds a web designer who assures the client that all the latest online bells and whistles

will be just the thing to entice potential

guests. The result is a website that is so

teeth-clenchingly annoying that the punter is put off before he even thinks of setting foot in the place.

This is a familiar whinge from travel writers, whose needs are often different from an average holidaymaker. We're usually up against a deadline and need to find basic information very quickly. A phone number, for example. Or an address. These would be quite handy to have on the opening page. Too often they're not. And I don't want to know about a toll-free number that doesn't work for international callers. (US hotels, I'm looking at you.)

But surely travel writers aren't the only people who sit impatiently while an elaborate intro wastes your precious time. If a website gives me the choice to "skip intro", I always will. There's nothing in the intro that shouldn't appear in the main site.

And then there's music. It doesn't belong on hotel websites. End of discussion. No arguments. The mute button goes on at once.

Photo galleries are lovely, useful and all part of the fun. Please make them easier to click through. Don't have each photo open its own window. It's very tiresome.

My biggest bugbear is one that involves a fundamental reason for choosing a particular hotel: the room rates. I want a list of tariffs for all types of rooms and showing the different seasons. A minimum and a maximum. Very simple. What I don't want is to have to input my dates before I'm told what offers fall on those dates. I need to know early on if the hotel is within my price range. Going through the whole inputting-of-dates rigamarole is another time-wasting nuisance. It also doesn't endear me to the hotel, as I automatically assume that it's afraid to be honest in its dealings. Why does price have to be something to hide? I'm fully aware that hotels want to have the flexibility to drop their prices at certain times and will offer incredible discounts. But I'd rather have a reasonably clear indication of the price range to begin with.

When I read flowery prose about the "essence" and the "philosophy" of the hotel, my eyes glaze over. And then I get angry when they neglect to tell me important information about the hotel's layout – such as that new annexe they built that is a 10-minute walk from the hotel.

But all of this matters not a jot when I can't get on to the site to begin with – because it's only in Flash. So that immediately excludes iPhone and iPad users, those people who are being continually bombarded with brilliant new travel apps for their devices. So don't forget to ask that clever web designer to come up with an HTML version too.

I'm curious to hear what experiences hoteliers have had with their websites and how they've affected business. Feel free to pass on your thoughts.

Are excursions worth it?

Some friends of mine were visiting Europe for the first time, and they chose to take a guided tour that zoomed through four countries in 10 days. You know the sort: if it's Tuesday this must be Belgium. I'm not necessarily criticising this kind of tour, as many tourists find that it's their best economical option. What does annoy me, however, is the excursions offered by the tour companies. They argue that it's the way they make money out of these cut-price tours, as the travel costs are kept to a minimum. That might be true, but it's unfair on the customer.

The tour operators rely on the fact that many of their clients are first-time visitors and don't know what they want to see, or that they don't feel confident enough to strike out on their own. Or even that they can't be bothered and prefer to be led. But do the companies really need to charge up to four times what a tour is worth – or, worse still, charge for attractions that are free to begin with?

To take some examples: an excursion in Paris takes in the Louvre and Notre-Dame, charging €45 for the privilege. A full ticket at the Louvre is €14 and Notre-Dame is free. If this hugely overpriced excursion includes jumping the horrendous queues at the Louvre, then people who are pressed for time might consider it money well spent. But it's free to visit Notre-Dame, and the cathedral even organises its own free tours. Similarly, a "special" night-time trip on a bateau mouche (excluding dinner) on the Seine costs €32, when a trip usually costs only €11.

The Rome excursions are just as daft. You can pay €69 to visit the Vatican and Colosseum with the tour company, or pay €30.30 for both on your own. There's even an excursion to Piazza Navona and the Pantheon (pictured) for the ludicrous sum of €32. Both places are free, so why not just buy a map?

It doesn't take much effort to do a bit of research on your own before you set off and make some decisions about what you want to visit. If you have only one day in Paris or Rome, you might just want to take in one major attraction and leave the rest of the time to explore and have a delicious lunch. You might enjoy getting a feel for the place rather than just ticking off a list of places you feel you have to see.

What all hoteliers should know

For the past four weeks, I have been in France researching the latest Frommer's guidebook to Provence. This involved 21 different hotel/apartment stays in 27 nights. Over the years, I've stayed in more hotels than I can remember, but having this prolonged period away from home has really focused my mind on what hoteliers consistently get wrong – as well as what they do right.

First things first: all hoteliers should spend at least two nights in their own hotels – with their luggage. If you're male, then get your wife, sister or other frank female to do the same. Too often no one bothers to get a woman's point of view. This is daft, as it's usually the woman who chooses the accommodation for the family holiday.

Secondly, the bathroom. I've stayed in brand-new five-star hotels with fantastic showers that have leaked all over the floor. And why can't people put a shelf in the shower? All those lovely fittings and nowhere to put your shampoo except on the floor. If a designer tries to tell you that shelves will "spoil the line", slap him. Oh, and a strong hook wouldn't go amiss either for people with hanging toiletries cases. (In fact, hooks in general are a good thing. More, please.)

Beautifully designed bathrooms with very deep basins look lovely. But spare a thought for short-sighted women who need to get close to a mirror to put on makeup. If the main mirror is three feet away, have the decency to put a small makeup mirror on the side wall. To those hotels that have already done so, thank you. It's very appreciated.

A special plea to French hoteliers that, unfortunately, will go unnoticed: put up a shower curtain. Otherwise, if you're determined to have an open shower, then leave a huge pile of towels to mop up the floor. If you've gone to the trouble to put up a shower screen, try to find one that actually works.

Small pedal bins in the bathroom are the work of the devil and should be banned. As are those chrome covers for the toilet roll. It is not aesthetically displeasing to see an uncovered bin or a naked toilet roll. We can handle it, trust me.

Very rarely are there enough plug sockets for today's traveller. These days, not many of us go around without a mobile phone, laptop, digital camera, iPod, etc, and all of them need to be charged up at some point.

And another thing: full-length mirrors. They don't need to take up much space and can easily be fitted behind the door of a wardrobe. Speaking of wardrobes, can we have more than five hangers? And can we have deep enough hanging space for dresses? I recently stayed in a supposedly "superior" room whose wardrobe was too short to hang a T-shirt.

I want to hug hoteliers who have the trust to leave a proper hair dryer in the bathroom – one that doesn't require constantly pressing a button to get the silly thing to work. Some people's hands cramp quickly. Thankfully, some manufacturers have come up with a model that is stuck to the wall but has a proper on-off switch. They do exist; I've seen them.

If you advertise free wifi, do make it clear when it works only in reception and not in the rooms. During this trip, I stayed in everything from two-star to five-star hotels, and not a single one charged for wifi. The luxury hotels that do are just being greedy. Add it to the cost of the room if you feel the need.

I have yet to see the point to a turndown service, except for the chocolates and perhaps a bottle of water. They're intrusive, almost always done when you're still getting ready to go out, and it's not very relaxing to feel compelled to tidy up before you go out for the evening. Leave the chocolates and the water during the morning clean-up.

Hotel breakfasts have become ridiculously overpriced and this is something that deserves its own blog post. Since when did the cost of breakfast equal or exceed the price of lunch?

Most of these suggestions require very little expense, and most hotels can certainly afford the odd hook or mirror here and there. These little things might sound insignificant, but they all add up.

Done roaming – a cautionary tale

You would think, with the amount of travelling I do, that I would have sussed out the confusing world of mobile phone roaming charges. Evidently not, as my recent phone bill from Orange shows. I seem to have fallen into a classic trap of getting severely stung by extortionate roaming charges while abroad. And all thanks to a rubbish little app.

Ever since I got my first BlackBerry, I have been careful to buy additional travel data bundles that would allow me to access my emails without spending a small fortune. The trouble started when I apparently responded to an Orange text while I was in France early this year. As I was approaching the limit of my travel bundle, Orange asked me if I wanted my roaming limit lifted. Although I don't remember sending the text, Orange maintains that I did – even though I hadn't reached my data bundle limit. And no one pointed out that lifting the limit is for all time – not just for that trip.

Two trips to France later, I came home to find a massive bill, even though I had bought data bundles. What on earth was causing my phone to rack up this huge bill? I always turned off the updating facility on Twitter, for example, and even deleted the official Twitter for BlackBerry app that didn't give you this option.

Then I remembered that I had downloaded the only free BlackBerry app that tracks the number of Boris bikes that are in London's docking stations. The default setting meant that the app was merrily updating itself EVERY 30 SECONDS while I was in France. How can I have been such an idiot not to check all the settings? I've since deleted the app (which didn't work very well anyway), put the roaming limit back in place and bought another data bundle for my trip next month. If I bust the limit, so be it. Bear that in mind if I don't respond to your emails relatively quickly.

Right, must get back to work and make some money to start paying off this monstrous bill. By the way, has anyone figured out quite why mobile phone companies charge such ridiculous amounts for roaming? I'd like to hear a rational answer.

When readers fight back

I was happy to see a feature in the Daily Telegraph recently about one of my favourite French ports, Sète. Anthony Peregrine wrote an enjoyable article about this unpretentious town that isn't really on the radar of most UK visitors. It's a bit scruffy, yes, but it's a real working port that has more important business to attend to than pandering to tourists: namely its huge fishing industry. Anthony was up front when he described some parts as run down. St-Tropez it isn't, nor does it want to be. I discovered it accidentally 10 years ago, and have been visiting ever since.

So I was quite taken aback when I saw the scathing comments from readers at the bottom of the article. Several called it a dump, suggesting that people would be better off visiting Slough. Another wondered if Anthony had ever actually visited the place. Considering that Anthony has been based on the South of France for a couple of decades, my guess is that he would have made Sète's acquaintance by now. Then there was that inevitable comment about writers swanning off on all-expenses paid trips and feeling compelled to write something good about a place even if it's a slagheap. (Why does everyone assume that all travel writers are on expenses? Most of us aren't.)

I've been to Sète numerous times over the past 10 years, and – bar one occasion – in a personal capacity. Why do I come back again and again to this place that supposedly makes Slough look good? For precisely the reasons Anthony explains in his article, and in one I wrote a couple of years ago (which you can read here if you fancy). If you want overcrowded expensive beaches, stick to the Riviera. If you want exquisite seafood and long, empty sands that stretch for miles, then give Sète a go. With any luck, you won't run into Sète-baiting Telegraph readers.

In praise of the vaporetto

For regular visitors to Venice, vaporetti are old hat. They're the large water buses that lumber up and down the Grand Canal and back and forth to the various islands in the Venetian lagoon.They're as ubiquitous as the old London Routemaster bus used to be, and just as convenient. What I found odd, though, was the number of people I've spoken to who had visited Venice but never bothered to use this basic and important form of transportation.

Some people confuse vaporetti with water taxis, which are plush and comfortable but very expensive – about €30 for a journey in the centre. And far too many visitors still think that the gondola is the only way to travel on the water. (It would be if you fancy squandering €70-80 for an hour's ride and feeling a bit silly when other tourists gawp at you.) I had one gondolier badgering me and refusing to believe me when I said they were too expensive and that I had no intention of going in one. He then dropped his price to €60, which I'd rather spend on dinner, frankly.

Vaporetti, on the other hand, are big, functional and not very attractive, but they get you around the city and beyond in a scenic yet practical way. Some have an open section at the front, where you can get views of both sides of the canal. Others have the same in the rear. Then there's a central part that's under cover with seats and an open-sided covered bit. Once you've had a few journeys on these, you'll head inside for the comfort of a seat rather than be exposed to the elements. Having said that, my first view of Venice was from the open section in the middle, where even the relentless rain couldn't obliterate the beauty of the city.

Unless you're in Venice for only a few hours, it's definitely worth getting a transport pass which will give you unlimited journeys within a set period. As a single journey on a vaporetto costs €6.50, regardless of distance, this makes sense. Venice Connected is the city's transport site where you can book tickets in advance (and it's in English).

I had a 72-hour pass that cost me €28. It paid for itself in five journeys, two of which I had to take anyway to get to and from the bus station at Piazzale Roma to catch the Treviso airport bus. I ended up taking about 14 journeys in total, as it became much more

fun to walk out to the further reaches of the city, such as Cannaregio, and then relax on a vaporetto for the journey back. It was so easy to pop over to the cemetery island of San Michele, or the church and bell tower on the island of San Giorgio Maggiore. Even the Lido was only 20 minutes from Piazza San Marco.

The final vaporetto journey back to the bus station was on a fine evening, when the sun was just beginning to set. The open section at the rear was empty, allowing us to enjoy the golden views in peace. Now that's the way to take your leave of this glorious city.

Guidebooks vs the web

Guidebooks – past their use-by date or still an important part of travelling? We never tire of debating this, especially as more apps arrive that promise to take the place of physical (and heavy) books.

I was intrigued by an article in the Observer celebrating all the wonderful apps you can use if you happen to pitch up in a place without a guidebook. The writer makes some very good points, but misses a few others. The most important is, of course, access to the web. While he mentions the fact that roaming costs are coming down in Europe, they're still terrible for European users visiting North America. And not everywhere has 3G, as I recently discovered in Montenegro. (Luckily I had my trusty guidebook to read when the hotel's dodgy internet access conked out again and again.)

If you're travelling throughout the UK and you have an iPhone, it can be enlightening and entertaining to explore a new place using only your phone (not so much on a BlackBerry, though). But when I'm walking through a continental city and I want to stop for a coffee, out comes the guidebook for a relaxing read – and one I can share with the people I'm with. I have turned up in places unexpectedly and tried to find decent maps and info on my BlackBerry, but found it a frustrating experience.

There are arguments against guidebooks, of course, one obvious one being that they go out of date in seconds. But I take great pleasure at looking at my shelves of books that remind me where I've been and where I'm off to next. As far as I know, there isn't an app for that.

London on two wheels

It's been a week now since London introduced its bike hire scheme, and thousands rushed to register as a member. I was one of them, on my computer at 7am on 30 July to get in there early. Everything went smoothly until the website crashed just as it was processing my payment. So far, so expected. Things were bound to go wrong with such an ambitious scheme, weren't they?

Straight on the phone, then, to a helpful but not entirely clued-up Transport for London staff member. At least he managed to get my membership sorted and told me the key would arrive within a few days. A week went by – nothing. Back on the phone. They said I hadn't paid for access. Oh, right. Access (daily, weekly or annually) isn't the same as usage (the most quoted one being the first half hour being free). So I've set up an automatic thingy that means I can hop on a bike as often as I like within 24 hours for only £1 – assuming my journeys were less than 30 minutes. As I planned to cycle only from the Tube station to The Independent's office in Kensington no more than three times a week, I thought that was the best option. No journey would take more than half an hour.

I insert my new black key into the docking station near Queensway Tube. Red light. Even if you're not familiar with the system, you can assume that a red light doesn't bode well. Back on the phone. (By the way, use the 020-8216 6666 number from your mobile rather than the expensive 0845 number.) Problem with the system, madam. Can you try again in two hours? No I can't, as I have to be in work in 10 minutes. I trudge through Kensington Gardens in a bad temper, wishing I could swoosh through it on a bike.

I get the chance on my lunch hour. Hurrah! It works. I pootle along Kensington High Street, dock the bike at a station, nip into the supermarket, pick up another bike with my shopping and return to the office. Later, when I'm going home, I cycle through Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park, ending up at Speaker's Corner before I reluctantly dock the bike and head into the Tube at Marble Arch. If Oxford Street hadn't been such a nightmare, I could have gone on and on and on...

Yesterday morning, I try the bikes at Lancaster Gate. Obviously a popular spot, as only two bikes are left. Neither would accept my key. More swearing. I stomp through Hyde Park towards the Serpentine to the next docking station was, all the time on the phone to a TfL staff member. Thousands of people have registered, madam, and only a few have had problems. Yes, and I'm one of them. But I cheer up when my key works and I get a bike. Lovely ride through the park to the office. And then another lunchtime bike ride. Great exercise. Who needs a gym?

Leaving the office to go home, I insert my key. Red light. A man beside me tries his key. All the bikes are dead. We walk to two other stations. Red lights. He gets on the phone to TfL. They've been having problems ... could take up to two hours. Another bad-tempered trudge through the park.

I know a scheme like this would be full of glitches, and I'm not the only frustrated one. But much as London Mayor Boris Johnson annoys me, I have to admit his bike scheme is an excellent idea. I love the Boris bike, and I'm now officially a fan. Just get the sodding thing working properly, please.

Home comforts

Renting a house or a flat for a holiday can be a leap in the dark. What can you reasonably expect to find in your home away from home? How much are you expected to lug from your own house if you're flying with a stingy baggage allowance? I've had a few experiences in recent years that have either restored my faith in humanity or made me want to bash some heads together. I have a lot of admiration for the two young travel writers involved in the Gran Tourismo project (grantourismotravels.com), in which they're spending a whole year staying in self-catering accommodation. While it's a fun and glamorous thing to do, you do end up missing the strangest things.

Little touches make all the differences. Last summer I rented a studio flat in Antibes that was only seconds away from the beach. The English owners, Louise and Paul, thoughtfully leave beach towels, a beach bag and even a sun parasol for their guests. And, unlike some owners, they're very happy for people to leave food behind for the next guest. (What does happen do all those half-drunk bottles of milk and partially used tubs of margarine?) Louise and Paul also provide fresh flowers and keep the store cupboard stocked with cooking essentials such as olive oil. That's one of those things you can't take for granted. (Their property is at www.holiday-rentals.co.uk/83543. I recommend it heartily.)

The little flat I rented in Dubrovnik this past spring (see earlier post below) was remarkably well equipped for such a small place. There was even a kettle, which, as most British travellers will know, is a rare as hen's teeth in the self-catering world. What I liked especially was the bottle of Croatian brandy left on the sideboard. I kept to the unspoken agreement to have just one tot and leave the rest for the next tenants. (That wasn't too difficult, as the brandy wasn't a patch on my uncle's homemade firewater. But you get my point.)

Sometimes you have to think creatively. A flat I rented in Corsica had fantastic views of the sea and the mountains from the balcony, but no table. That made eating out there a bit awkward. Luckily someone had dumped a load of small dusty café tables just around the corner, with no obvious owner in sight. Surely they wouldn't mind if I borrowed a table for the week. I returned the table at the end of my stay, but I did make a point of telling the tour operator that the owner really should provide one himself.

There are times, though, when luck isn't on your side. A couple of winters ago I was in Italy staying in a hotel's new self-catering annex, which was considerably larger than a standard hotel room. In exchange for the space I got a completely empty kitchen. Not a cup, nor a spoon – just empty cupboards. I had my travel kettle and mini espresso pot (well, I was in Italy) but I pleaded with the manager to lend me some cups and cutlery from the restaurant. Nothing doing. I bought cups and nicked some teaspoons from a nearby café. (That's two admissions of theft in one blog.) I left with a bitter feeling and was furious that the manager didn't think anything was wrong about not letting guests know about the state of the accommodation. "That's what happens in Italy," he told me. "Everyone brings their own things." That's utter rubbish and completely at odds with my own experiences of self-catering in Italy. A word of advice: don't rely on the hotel's website to tell you what's in the kitchen. Ask beforehand.